Chapter One

Olivia Reed walked off of the plane with more swagger than when she'd left. The five years away from home had served her well. Self-sufficient and struggling to keep a sense of self-confidence, Olivia felt she had done her best putting the child in her to rest.

But just because she was an adult didn't mean she couldn't be excited to see her daddy, now did it?

He caught her when she came bulleting forward, wrapping her arms around his neck, happily choking him. "Easy there, Livvy, do you want to choke your old man to death?" She released him only to squeeze him a second time upon seeing his face.

"I missed you, Pop." He chuckled and ran a hand over her ponytail when she finally loosed her grip on him.

"I missed you too, Liv."

She glanced around the terminal, searching out familiar faces. When she saw none, she turned her gaze back to her father. "Where are Mitch and the guys?" Olivia regretted the words the instant they left her mouth and she cringed at the way her father's face hardened "Never mind, I'm sure I'll run into them eventually…" She turned to grab up her gunnysack, swinging it over one shoulder.

"Olivia. I don't want you hanging around the band anymore." His tone made her shoulders scrunch and in that instant she was that gawky teenager, desperate for her father's approval, all over again.

"But Pop…"

"No 'but Pop', all right?" He held out a hand for her bag. "You're not getting caught up in that crowd."

Olivia handed him the bag, frowning. "But…"

"End of discussion."

The tone annoyed her. It was as though she could see him, picturing her in pigtails, or - more than likely - diapers again. "Dad. I'm almost twenty-two; you don't get to order me around anymore."

He gripped the strap of her luggage tightly in a fist. "You lost your manners out there, Olivia."

"I lost a lot of things out there, Pop." They stared at each other for a long minute and Olivia remembered just how much she hated fighting with her father. Finally, she sighed, arranging a crooked smile on his face. "I don't want to fight. Can't we just go home?"

She saw Mitch the instant she stepped out of her father's second-hand sedan. Her big brother was sitting on the front stoop, his long legs crossed, the smile on his lips so like their father's.

"Mitch!" she cried, racing toward him. He was on his feet the instant before she launched herself at him. "Hi!"

"Welcome home." He laughed and gave her a quick squeeze before setting her back on her feet. "Happy to be home?"

"I am." She looked up at the graying sky and spun in a small circle, beaming. "I missed New York so much…and everybody. I can't wait to see them again."

Mitch sighed, sobering. "Well, don't be surprised when things aren't exactly the way you left 'em, all right, Liv?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" she asked, her good mood evaporating. "What's happened?"

"Roger's out of the band, for one." Mitch shook his head at her confused expression. "It's not your business anymore, Liv; just leave it alone."

Olivia pressed her lips together, ignoring her brother's words. "I'll get it out of Rog eventually."

"It would be best, for everyone, if you let him be, Olivia."

Her anger flared. "What if I don't want to leave him be?" Inwardly she winced. She sounded like a petulant child.

Biting her lip to keep the pout from forming, she squared her shoulders and stared up into her brother's darkened countenance.

"I catch you near him," his voice dropped dangerously. "And I won't be responsible for what I do to him."

"God, Mitch, you're acting like a Neanderthal," Olivia forced a laugh past the ache in her chest. She hadn't even been home for an hour and already she'd begun feeling like a child. Her jaw tightened and she glared defiantly into her brother's reddened face. "It's absurd. I'm heading down to their place as soon as I get unpacked."

He grabbed her arm, fingers digging into flesh. "You're not, and that's final."

"Mitch!" Olivia scowled at him, trying to wrench her arm free. "Stop it."

"All right you two," her father passed between them, loaded down with luggage. "Let's worry about getting all of Livvy's junk inside and unpacked before you start waging war. Girl hasn't been home an hour and already the pair of you are ready to spill blood on my front stoop." He rolled his eyes as he headed up the stairs, muttering the whole way.

Glaring daggers at the back of Mitch's head as her brother bent to pick up a cardboard box, Olivia followed their father into the house, arms laden with pillows and two backpacks slungover her shoulders.

"Out of the question!" Mitch blocked the doorway leading from the kitchen into the living room. His scowl might have frightened her into submission when she was a girl, but now it just pissed her off.

"It was never a problem before!" She kept her voice a few decibels lower than a shout, barely. She was above this, screaming at her idiot brother. But, her maturity took a back seat to the red-haze covering her vision.

Two sets of eyes turned her way, waves of disapproval radiating off of the pair of them. Even though her father had been silent throughout the entire argument, she could just tell he agreed with her moronic brother. The thought rankled.

"I'm old enough to make my own decisions now, you know; I've been making them for myself for years. It would be nice if I got a little more respect from the pair of you."

Her brother scoffed. "You'll get respect when you show good sense."

She stared at him for a moment. Surely he hadn't just said that to her? His closed expression was enough of a clue. She made a noise of disgust at the back of her throat and whirled around and stalked from the room. Before she was halfway out of the kitchen, Mitch's hand closed around her arm again, jerking her to a halt. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Over to Roger's."

"Did you not hear a word that I've said to you? You aren't going anywhere near him."

"Mitchell…Olivia…"

The warning tone seemed to have opposite the desired effect on the siblings. Olivia turned on her heel and charged from the room and Mitch darted after her, bellowing the whole way. Their father sighed grouchily and followed them into the living room where a tug-o-war had begun over Olivia's jacket.

"Let go!" she sniped.

"No."

"Damn it, Mitch, this was eighty dollars! You're going to rip it!"

"I'll let go when you say you're not going."

They fought over the jacket some moments longer, before she threw up her hands, releasing the denim. "Fine!" she spat. "Keep it."

She shoved past him and out the front door.

Mitch looked at his father expectantly, exasperation clear on his face. The older man just stared back. "Best let her cool off," his father suggested finally.

"But-"

"You go after her now, and she's liable to plant a fist in your face, boy."