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“Yeah,” Jared said.
Feeling much less drunk and angry than he had two minutes before, he turned to Ty with a sheepish expression. “I’m an asshole.”
“No, you’re just a damn emotional volcano,” Ty replied with a resigned shake of his head.
Earl and Freddy, two other occasional friends who sat at the sticky bar, nursing their dollar beers and making flirtatious remarks to the weary-looking waitress, nodded in agreement. “Not good for a man to only get mad once every few years,” Earl mumbled. “It causes testicular cancer.”
“Colon,” said Tommy helpfully. “You don’t even want to know what the doctor has to stick inside you to check for that.”
Jared just rolled his eyes. “Come on.”
Mick mumbled another apology to Ty, who shrugged it off with a look that said, “No problem.” Then he followed his cousin out into the cold night, feeling like a younger sibling bailed out by a big brother.
Once in the parking lot, Jared handed him the foam cup he’d been holding. Mick hadn’t even noticed it.
“Black. One sugar.”
Mick sipped at the coffee gratefully, then nearly spit the mouthful out. “Christ, this tastes like motor oil. No way did you get it from Al’s.”
Jared nodded, not even breaking into a grin. “Last cup from the bottom of the pot at the truck stop. Liquid tar. Good for cleaning sewer drains and sobering drunks.”
“Thanks. I think I’d prefer to clean the sewer drain than drink any more of this.”
“Tough. Drink it or you’re not getting in my car.”
Mick glanced toward Jared’s ride, a sleek black Viper that had been his cousin’s number one priority until he’d met Gwen.
“You eventhinkyou’re going to hurl in my car, and I’ll push you out without slowing down,” Jared added.
Mick finished the coffee and sucked in a few deep breaths, clearing away more of the beer-induced cobwebs in his brain. He leaned against Jared’s car. As his cousin shook his head, Mick straightened back up. “You’re so anal.”
Jared didn’t miss a beat, replying, “You’re so stupid.”
“Oh, thanks for the support.”
“You want nice and supportive?” Jared reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone. “Call your mother.”
Mick groaned. “Don’t even think about it.”
Jared put the phone back into his pocket. Mick watched his cousin from under lowered lashes, for a minute or two, feeling the coffee do its magic and the cold air put a normal thought back into his head. “Thanks for coming down,” he finally murmured, able to meet his cousin’s unflinching stare.
Jared gave him a brief nod. “I should have let you get your ass kicked as repayment for the whole secret agent thing.”
Mick shrugged, knowing Jared didn’t mean it. Blood made them cousins. Genuine emotion made them brothers. He trusted Jared more than anyone else in the world.
“Want to talk about it?”
“Talk about what?”
“About why you’re in a bar picking fights with your best friends when the woman you’re crazy about is alone in your house?”
Mick’s jaw dropped.
“You think I don’t have eyes? And ears?” Jared’s lips curved into a tiny smile. “Or a decent memory? I did see the condition of your dorm room, you know. I remember the name of the girl who inspired your, er, rather memorable reaction.”
Mick didn’t know of anyone better to share his problem with than Jared, who could be counted on not to repeat a word of anything he was told. His cousin’s years of training in the FBI and in writing true-crime novels had taught the man how to keep secrets.
“So,” Jared said after Mick briefly told him why he was here nursing his sorry-ass wounds with beer, rather than home straightening things out with Caroline, “youhavebecome a monk.”
