"You were ignoring my texts." Dylan heaved a crate of beer onto the counter.

I continued to wipe the glasses clean, stacking them back in the racks along the bar. "I wasn't ignoring them. I read them to make sure the place wasn't on fire. But you seemed to have shit under control, so I just didn't respond."

Dylan turned and leaned against the counter and tossed a lemon back and forth in his hands. "You're smiling, so you finally got some. Did you meet someone at the conference?"

"Nope."

"Well, did you at least learn something? That ticket was three hundred bucks."

"Then the bagels should have been fresher." I looked up at him. "I did learn something. Considering we were both fairly new at this when we started, it seems we've done a pretty good job. We've been doing most of the stuff that the presenters talked about."

"Huh.” He nodded. "Good for us. Guess that's why that one suit keeps coming in here and asking if we're interested in selling the place."

I put the glass I was drying down on the rack. "What suit?"

"Some dude in a nice suit. I've seen him in here before. On Saturday, we were short on help because Penny called in sick."

My face shot up. "What did you do?"

He held out his hands. "Nothing. Fuck. She said she caught a cold at school."

"Yeah because she still goes to school. Because she's too damn young to be working here." I waved off the topic. "Finish your story."

"Yeah, thanks," he said gruffly. "I was waiting tables, and I was serving him his beer. He asked if I was the owner and I said yeah. Then he said he had investors interested in buying the place."

"Yeah? Well, did you tell him to fuck off?"

"Nope, I took his card. You never know."

"Whatever. Guess that's true." I thought about Rebecca saying that she could never return to Camden Beach, but I was sure I could convince her to change her mind. I knew the place was filled with memories, both good and bad. I understood how Rebecca felt. After I moved back home, I realized that there was hardly any place in town that didn't remind me of Emily. But if Rebecca couldn't bring herself to ever come back to Camden Beach, that was going to make everything harder.

Dylan started slicing lemons. "You never said where you went this weekend."

"I went to the beach." I turned and walked away to get a new towel and to let him know that was all the information he was going to get out of me. I wasn't ready for a conversation about Rebecca. In fact, I wasn't completely sure I'd ever be ready to talk to Dylan about it. I had no doubt he'd be pissed and consider it a betrayal to his sister. Dylan was just another layer of complication in a heavy duty confused mess. It seemed as long as we didn't try and reason it out and discuss semantics, Rebecca and I were happy as hell to be back in each other's lives. At least I knew I was happy to have her back. I'd convinced myself long ago that she was gone for good, and it was still feeling a little unreal.

My phone rang as I grabbed a clean, dry towel from the cabinet. I reached into my back pocket, but it was empty. I'd left it on the bar counter. I headed back out with the towel.

Dylan was standing with my phone in his hand. He looked up at me. "It's Rebecca."

I scowled at him for being a nosy fucker and grabbed the phone from his palm. I walked to the back with it. "Hey, Rebel, what's up?"

"It's been a lousy Monday."

"Uh oh. What's the matter?"

"The rude woman in the claims department got the last banana nut muffin."

"That muffin stealing bitch." I closed the backroom door for privacy, trying to forget about the conversation I was no doubt going to have with Dylan.

"Right? Anyhow, I was grinding out stupid data charts for my boss, Cruella, the puppy eater, and I remembered something."

"Yeah? What's that?'

"I miss you."

"Yeah?" I smiled into the phone. "Do ya?"

She lowered her voice to a sexy whisper. "Yes, and I wish you were between my legs right now."

"Fuck, you just wiped out the rest of my day. I'm not going to get anything else done because being between your legs is all I'm going to be thinking about."

"Good, that was my intent. I know it's an hour drive, but if you wanted to come see me tonight in my crummy little apartment, I wouldn't say no."

"I'll be there with fucking bells on. The bar's closed today. Dylan and I are just getting a jump on the week. Hey, speaking of Dylan—"

"Let's not," she said sharply. "The morning has been shitty enough."

"All-all right," I said haltingly. I knew Michelle had turned a cold shoulder on Rebecca after the accident, but I was still confused about how Dylan fit into it all. He hadn't been around much and especially not during the summer of the accident.

There was a long pause, which she quickly filled with her light, frilly phone voice. "Hey, my dad sent more pictures of the vineyard. He wants me to help him run it."

I sat on the stool in the workroom, feeling as if someone had just punched the air from my lungs.

"Josh? Did you hear me?"

"Yeah, I heard you."

"I mean it seems crazy because what the heck do I know about running a vineyard? But then my muffin was stolen and the whole idea sounded a little sweeter."

"Rebel?"

"Yeah?"

"One minute you're taking my breath away by talking about me between your legs, and the next you’re taking my breath away by talking about leaving to Europe."

Silence.

"Rebecca?"

"I haven't told him yes. I was just telling you about it."

I was being an idiot and reading way too much into what was happening between us. I had to slow myself down. "Yeah, I get it. It actually sounds pretty cool, especially if you're working with puppy eaters and muffin stealers."

She laughed lightly. "Are you still coming tonight?"

"Yeah."

"Good. But no bells. My neighbors are total grumps." She hung up.

I sat there staring at the backroom. The wine rack was filled with every shade and type of wine, and the beer and ale was stacked high on the shelves. Dylan and I had done a good job. Obviously good enough that people were interested in buying the place. It was my first real success in a life that was full of mistakes.

I headed back to the bar, my head still mired in the idea of Rebecca leaving for Europe. Dylan was wiping away lemon juice and seeds from the counter. He didn't look up from his task. I relaxed a bit, deciding maybe he wasn't going to grill me about the call.

I picked up a glass from the drying rack and rubbed the towel against it. Dylan put the knives and cutting board back with more clamor than usual. He walked over a little closer than might be considered correct for the unspoken personal space rule. Dylan was about two inches taller than me, but I'd still be a formidable opponent to him in a fight. Not that I had to ever think much about that. We'd had plenty of fights, but neither of us had ever thrown a punch at the other.

"So what the fuck is going on?" Dylan asked.

"I'm drying glasses."

"Don't be an asshole. You know what I mean. How the fuck am I supposed to take it if you're hanging out with Rebecca?"

I put the last glass on the rack and dropped the moist towel over my shoulder. "You don't have to take it any way at all. It's really none of your business."

Dylan kicked at the trash can beneath the counter and put a dent in the metal side. "Bullshit. It is my business. My sister is dead, and I'm pretty fucking sure she wouldn't be happy if you took up with her sister."

"Stepsister, and again, I don't think this is any of your damn business." I walked away and almost expected him to cold cock me from behind. He was angrier than I'd seen him in a long time. I knew he wouldn't be happy about any of this, but I didn't expect him to be so mad.

"So, you're fucking her? You're fucking Emily's sister?"

I clenched my jaw tightly and took a deep breath as I walked into the storeroom to finish shelving beer. Dylan stomped behind me with heavy, angry footsteps. Maybe today would be the first time we fought with fists.

I turned around to face him. "You just need to let this drop."

"Can't fucking do that. I know about the text. Mom told me about it. The police gave her Emily's belongings, and Mindy's text was frozen on the phone screen."

From the inside, it felt like I was peeling apart like old paint on a crumbling building. I knew they'd gotten Emily's things back, and I knew the phone was included. Her body had been twisted and broken in the wreck, but her phone had survived without a scratch.

Dylan pointed at me. "I can see by the look on your face that I just nailed you with a big punch to the stomach, and I didn't even have to make my hand sore. Why the hell do you think things went south so fast in that marriage? That's why Mom didn't want you around anymore either."

I stared at him. I had a million responses but only one came out. "Fuck you, Dylan."

"That's it? Fuck you. That's all you've got to say?"

"Yeah. That's it. Take it or leave it. I don't care."

He walked out and slammed the door shut behind him. I stared at the rows of beer bottles in front of me. I was seething inside enough that I actually visualized dragging my arm across the entire shelf and throwing them all on the floor. Then I realized I'd gotten off too easy with my response. Dylan had gotten off too easy too.

I swung open the door and found him in the office going through receipts. His instant defensive stance, with shoulders taut, assured me he was just as angry as me. "Actually, I do have more to say. First of all, that kiss, it was nothing. I pulled Rebecca out of a bad situation. She was drunk and upset and it happened. That's it. But if you think for one fucking second that I wasn't turned inside out about losing Emily, about being the driver in the accident, then you don't know me at all. Emily and I were having plenty of problems at the end, but losing her was like having my heart ripped out of my chest. I drowned myself in booze and drugs, and the whole time I was in that intoxicated haze, I wished I would just float off for good. So fuck you, Dylan. And whatever happens between Rebecca and me is none of your damn business. She's not even part of your family anymore."

His jaw shifted from side to side as if he was ready to pummel me, and I almost wished he had. But he said nothing. He stared at me for a minute and then returned to the receipts.

I walked out of the office.