Chapter 2

Charlie's color was back to normal. In fact, he was way too calm for Don.

"Relax," said his brother, picking up the milk again. "She's only here for a few days." He swallowed, placed the glass back on the table. "She's part of a think tank at MIT now. She just came back to…tie up all her loose ends."

"You knew she was coming." Don could tell just by looking at Charlie.

"Yes. Of course, I had heard that she joined the tank at MIT. Then last week she e-mailed me."

"Has this turned into one of those weird internet relationships?"

Charlie frowned. "They're not weird." At Don's head shake he added, "but, no. I hadn't heard from her in any way since that e-mail I got the week after she left."

"So how did you end up at Torino's last night?"

"I had a class at Cal Sci yesterday afternoon. She came by to pick up her things from storage. We all went to dinner — Larry, too."

"Larry definitely was not doing the salsa. That I would remember."

Charlie grinned. "I'll bet. No, she and I went out later."

Don waited, but Charlie didn't offer any more details. Finally, he pressed. "Why?"

"We…we just wanted closure, I think. Wanted things to end on a happier note, maybe."

"So you won't be seeing her again?"

Charlie refused to meet his eyes. "I didn't say that."

Don didn't like the way that sounded. "Charlie…"

His brother abruptly stood, and turned from the table. "I missed her, Don. She was a friend."

"What she did was not very friendly." When his brother didn't answer, he tried something else. "Do you remember 'Alias Smith and Jones'?"

Charlie turned back and smiled, leaned against the counter. "The TV show, or the dog? I loved them both."

"The dog you named after the TV show. After you begged Mom & Dad to keep this…this mutt you found, it bit you. You managed to convince them it was your fault, so they wouldn't get rid of the dog. You cried until you made yourself sick, and they caved, like they always did with you. Next thing we know, we're all in the ER and you're getting an ear sewn back to your head."

Charlie bristled. "There is so much wrong with that story, I don't even know where to start."

"Like?"

"First of all, Amita is not some "mutt" I found."

Don tilted his head. "Point taken. I'll give you that one. Next?"

"Mom and Dad did not always 'cave' with me."

"Sure looked that way from where I was sitting," Don answered. "Not giving you that one. More?"

"I just got a few stitches. I didn't have my ear sewn back to my head."

"Twenty-eight stitches in an 8-year-old's ear, Charlie? Close enough. Not giving you that one, either."

The two brothers regarded each other in silence for a moment. "I am a grown man, you know," Charlie finally said. "Shave, and everything."

Don held up a hand. "I do know that, Charlie, I do. It's just that you don't have the hardest heart around. That's not bad," he hastened to add. "I just don't want to see you get hurt again."

Charlie smiled at his older brother fondly. "I can appreciate that, Don. I appreciate you, for always trying to protect me…but…"

Don arched an eyebrow, and Charlie's smile faded. "My heart's getting a little harder. It's been a tough couple of years."

Don didn't know how to respond to that, so he asked the question that had been begging to be voiced since last night. "Where did you learn to dance like that?"

Charlie laughed. "We took a class. When we first started dating. We thought it might give us something else in common." He turned and headed for the door, effectively ending the conversation. At the doorway he turned back long enough to toss Don a wicked grin. "You should try it. It has certain…aphrodesiac… qualities."

"Too much information, Charlie," protested Don, watching his brother leave. He sat at the table a little longer, feeling his heart sink in his chest. He just didn't have a good feeling about this.