The Devaney Brothers: Michael and Patrick: Michael's Discovery

There was no mistaking the return of bitterness and despair in his tone. Kelly desperately wanted to make things better, but she wasn’t sure if she could find the right words. She made herself try, though.

“You know, Michael, it seems to me that in some ways it takes as much bravery to face a future all alone without the SEALs as it does to take on some dangerous, covert mission surrounded by an entire team of highly trained experts,” she told him.

“In other words, if I don’t get over myself and face this whole therapy thing head-on, I’m a coward?” he asked.

“Your words, not mine,” she said.

He sighed heavily. “Then maybe that’s exactly what I am,” he conceded, his expression bleak. “Because if I’m no longer a SEAL, then I don’t know who the hell I am.”

Kelly could have offered a whole string of platitudes that would have meant nothing at all to him, but she didn’t. Instead, she merely touched his shoulder. “But you’ll figure it out,” she said quietly.

“I wish I were as sure of that as you seem to be.”

“You’re a smart man, you’ll find your way,” she insisted. “Trust me.”

His gaze captured hers and held. “Which brings us full circle.”

She gathered up her things and headed for the door. “I’ll see you Friday night and we’ll work on it,” she said, because suddenly there was nothing on earth more important to her than gaining Michael Devaney’s trust...unless it was giving him back his faith in himself.

4

Bryan was staring at Kelly as if she’d suddenly grown two heads. “Tell me again how this came about?” he demanded, when she invited him to join her and Michael at Ryan’s Place on Friday night. “You asked Michael—your patient—out on a date? How many rules does that break?”

“None precisely,” Kelly retorted defensively. “And it’s not a date. Michael admits he has issues with trust. I find it’s impossible to do my job if my client doesn’t trust my judgment. I thought it might help if he got to know me better as someone other than your baby sister. Apparently he agrees, because he suggested going to Ryan’s Place on Friday night. Now do you want to come along or not?”

“Oh, I’m coming,” Bryan said, his expression grim. “If only to make sure you don’t do anything stupid. You seem to forget that I can read you like a book. It may be an issue of trust for Michael, but it’s a whole lot more for you.”

Kelly found her brother’s attitude extremely annoying, to say nothing of patronizing. “I am not going to try to seduce him, if that’s what you’re worried about,” she said heatedly.

“What if he tries to seduce you? Will you take him up on it?” Bryan asked with the sort of bluntness he normally reserved for the patients he counseled in his psychology practice.

Much as she wanted to believe that Michael attempting to seduce her was a possibility, Kelly was a realist where Michael Devaney was concerned. He was not going to try to get her into bed, not Friday night, most likely not ever. More’s the pity.

She regarded her brother with a sour look. “I’ll let you know if the issue arises. Then, again, maybe I won’t. It’s not really any of your business.”

“How can you say that? Of course it is. I’m your brother, and I’m the one who talked you into taking this job.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Bryan, you didn’t talk me into anything. You mentioned it. I spoke with Ryan and then consulted with Michael. He and I were the ones who agreed to give it a try. At best, you gave me a lead on a job. You’ve done it a hundred times before without working yourself into a frenzy over the outcome.”

“But this was different.”

“Why?”

“Because we’re talking about Michael,” he replied with evident impatience. “I knew you’d jump at the chance to help him because you always had a thing for him.”

She kissed her brother’s cheek. “Too late for regrets now, worrywart. I’m a big girl. I can handle this.”

“You can handle Michael’s therapy,” he corrected. “I don’t have a doubt in the world about that. But this? This is social. Michael’s not thinking straight these days, and neither, apparently, are you. You’ll end up getting your heart broken.”

She frowned at him. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“You know what I mean. I thought for sure you’d be over your crush by now, but you aren’t, are you?”

“I was barely a teenager when you first brought Michael home. He was gorgeous. Naturally I was intrigued by him,” she said, ignoring the fact that none of those feelings had gone away. She was still very much attracted to Michael, something her big brother definitely didn’t need to have confirmed. Maybe it was time to turn the tables, put him on the hot seat. “Now let’s talk about your love life—or should I say your lack of one.”

His scowl deepened. “Nothing to discuss,” he said tightly.

“Oh, really? Then that fling with what’s-her-name is really over?” she pressed, in part because she knew of someone else who was ready and willing to take on Bryan, if he’d finally wised up.

“It wasn’t a fling,” he said defensively. “And you know her name. It’s Debra.”

“Short for dim-witted,” Kelly muttered. “You know, for an intelligent man who has a degree in psychology, you have exceptionally lousy taste in women.”

“Thank you for sharing your opinion,” her brother retorted. “Next time you feel so inclined, bite your tongue.”

She grinned at him. “Advice you should consider following when it comes to Friday night.”

Bryan sighed heavily, picked up his jacket and headed out without saying another word.

Now it was Kelly’s turn to sigh. She should have kept her mouth shut about Friday, because if she knew her brother at all—and she did—he was on his way straight to Michael’s, probably to warn him to behave or get his teeth knocked down his throat.

Kelly considered calling Michael to warn him, but why bother? Bryan was a great guy, but he definitely leaned more toward intellectual pursuits than physical prowess. Michael could probably use a good laugh. He might be in a wheelchair, but she had a feeling he could still take her brother in a fight. Maybe it would do both of them good for Michael to remember that.

* * *

Michael was watching the Celtics game on TV and cursing the fact that there wasn’t a beer in the place, when the doorbell rang. Since he’d all but banished his brothers from stopping by uninvited, he figured he shouldn’t just tell his visitor that the door was unlocked. He wheeled across the room and found Bryan on his doorstep, a scowl firmly in place and a six-pack in his hand.

“Talk about your mixed messages,” Michael said, moving aside to let his friend in.

Bryan stared at him blankly. “What?”

“Hey, you’re the psychologist,” Michael reminded him. “Shouldn’t you understand that arriving with a frown on your face and a peace offering in your hand could be a bit confusing?”

“Was I frowning? Sorry,” Bryan said, though the apology sounded halfhearted.

Michael studied him curiously. The Bryan he’d once known had always been upbeat, always able to put a positive spin on things. He could spot the silver linings on the cloudiest days. It was a trait that probably contributed to his skill as a psychologist. Clearly, something had to be weighing mighty heavily on him to put this scowl on his face.

“Something on your mind?” Michael probed cautiously.

“You could say that.”

“Why don’t you pour a couple of those beers and tell me all about it?” Michael suggested. Listening to somebody else’s problems for a change would be good for him, he decided. It might make him forget his own.

While Bryan headed for the kitchen, Michael went back in the living room and muted the sound on the TV. He didn’t have to listen to the game, but he wasn’t going to skip it. Basketball was the one thing he’d missed when he was off in various godforsaken locations. Of course, he’d also missed playing it, but for now he’d have to settle for the vicarious thrills of watching a good game on TV.

Bryan returned, handed Michael his beer, then sank down on the sofa, still looking worried.

“Woman problems?” Michael asked.