Another chapter for you. I'm still just so glad that people are liking this story. This chapter will give you a bit of insight into Killian and why he shut down when Emma asked him to sing. I also hope you'll see a little more about Elsa and some of her own fears. Enjoy and let me know what you think!

She was sitting there in the music room when he arrived the next morning, his arms carrying a stack of papers and his bag of cd's that he had sorted through to share with one of his classes. That wasn't where he had expected to see her, especially having shut down on her without plausible explanation the afternoon before. So to find her there with a basket and two take out cups from Granny's was one of the nicer shocks of his life.

Her gloves were still on and the gray beanie covered the crown of her head. While she looked adorable, he was a bit concerned that she also looked ready to escape and run. So instead of demanding to know how she got into a locked room or why she had not returned his one well thought out and agonizingly edited text message the night before, he smiled at her. It took her a second but she returned the smile with a warm one of her own.

"Is this a thing for us now?" he asked, dropping his items beside the office door and walking over to her. "Breakfast in the morning?"

She shrugged, gesturing to one of the steaming cups. "I don't know about you but I always have breakfast in the morning. That's the best time to have it."

He lifted the cup to his mouth and found that she had fixed it his favorite way with half a packet of half and half and no sugar. "I don't know. I am rather fond of late night breakfast in disreputable diners or while watching bad horror flicks on the telly." He pulled in another sip. "I rather fancy a good poached egg while nursing a beer, in fact."

"Classy," she remarked, pulling back on the tied corners of a cloth napkin that was keeping secret the contents of a basket. "I realized yesterday that we don't really know each other that well. We're spending time together, but I don't know what makes Killian Jones really tick. You know?"

He smirked as she struggled with the knot she had created. "Aye, but I would say we are on our way to knowing each other. Isn't that the point of our spending time together? Our date?" He ended it on that hopeful note, as he wasn't sure after her hasty retreat if she still wanted a date with him. Seeing her there helped to ease a few of the doubts, but still it was not in his nature to assume the best.

"Yes," she agreed, celebrating a bit as the knot gave way. "So you should know something about me. I bake. I'm not saying I'm Betty Crocker or Martha Stewart, but when I get stressed or upset, I bake."

He had to admit that it was an adorable little quirk when he imagined her with an apron and a bit of flour on her face where her freckles hid. "No worse than breakfast at midnight, love," he noted, giving himself permission to sit backwards in the chair so that he might face her. "What do you bake?"

"It depends," she said thoughtfully. "When Henry is being all emo and angsty, I usually go for cookies. And no I don't buy the refrigerated things you just plop on the pan. I'm not a box cake kind of girl either. I go for it. I mix and measure. I've even been known to weigh butter."

"Color me impressed. I've been known to be a talent in the kitchen, but I don't believe I've ever weighed butter before."

She smiled proudly at his comment. "When I'm feeling sad and morose, I tend to go with cake. I'm talking layers and fruit flavored jam between those layers. I don't do much in the way of decorating, but I love to dig into it and not think of everything wrong in my life. And when I feel like I've done something wrong and that I've hurt someone I care about…a friend…I bake cupcakes and or muffins." She held out the basket that contained a mountain of mini muffins. "That's why I'm here. I think I may have hurt you yesterday and I didn't mean to do that. So this is my peace offering."

"You act as though you need one, love. You don't. I was not forthcoming with you about my desire to stay out of the music business. You were simply doing your job. If I was another man, I would have seen the compliment in what you were saying and would have been honored at your belief in me."

"But you said you weren't interested and I persisted. For that I'm sorry. I should have accepted your word for what it was." She shook the basket a bit in front of him. "You know what is best for you. I should trust that instead of trying to find ways to fix things for you. So let me apologize and give you some muffins."

"If you will accept my apology as well," he said, setting aside the drink to reach in and pluck out one of the lemon poppy seed muffins. Biting into it, he smiled despite the crumbs that stuck to his chin and landed on his dark colored shirt. "I do have to say that you are much more skilled in the art of apology than I am, darling. I was only planning to say that I was sorry. I had no offering for you other than my regret."

"Let's just call it even." She watched as he munched on another of the muffins, cranberry and orange. "Do you have any hobbies or quirks that I should know about?"

He chewed through his thoughts, watching her anxious expression and saying nothing when she removed her hat and gloves with the realization that she was going to stay for a bit. "I suppose gardening," he said offhandedly. "You already know that I like to sail and I've mentioned my love of books. The one you don't know about is my love of the dirt. It soothes the soul, a bit like the feel of the ocean spray and the sound of a sail snapping tight in the wind."

"You have a way with words," she commented, standing up and frowning as he joined her abruptly. "Sit. Enjoy your breakfast. Your students will be here soon and I've got work."

"Thank you, Swan. For the breakfast and the company."

"Maybe I'm just trying to butter you up for better chaperoning responsibilities. Last field trip I worked, Henry's classmates threw another kid in the swimming pool at the hotel. He was sputtering like he couldn't swim and I dove in to save him. My suede jacket and brand new watch did not survive my heroics."

He chuckled, his hand landing on her waist just inside her jacket as he pulled her closer. "I don't know if muffins are enough to bribe me. We might have to consider the price."

Brushing off the crumbs from his stubble and from the front of his shirt, she smiled. "You forget that I'm the queen of negotiating. I don't think you're ready to go up against me." Lifting up onto her toes, since she is not as tall as she usually is without the impossibly high heels, she pressed her lips to his once and then again before he responded in kind, mouths mingling and their bodies folding together as though they can't get close enough.

***AAA***

"That's too shiny," Emma directed as she looked over the woman's shoulder at Elsa. "I want a more natural look."

"Emma, I'm wearing 10 tons of makeup and you're screaming about natural. Are you high?"

Sitting the chair, Elsa's hands were folded in her lap and her long blonde hair was being curled and styled in an artful and messy way that Emma was directing from her own perch. The woman applying her makeup had two rather large boxes that reminded the woman of fishing tackle boxes filled with shadows, creams, and lip glosses. Two other women were darting in and out of the room with clothing and accessories that Emma accepted or summarily rejected without asking for any input from her friend.

"I've done this hundreds of times," Emma said, scrolling through her text messages. "Trust me. It's your first photoshoot. You want it to be perfect."

While Elsa was on edge, Anna was clearly in her element. She instructed her makeup artist to stay away from certain colors and refused the offer of highlights in her rust colored hair. She had cut out pictures from magazines and printed out others from websites that spoke to poses and compositions she thought would work. The photographer was already enthralled by her. He had barely glanced at Elsa, calling her beautiful on his way to chat with Anna about some photoshoot he had just completed in Morocco that Anna had seen on television.

"You're in a better mood now," Elsa commented, having called Emma the night before in the midst of her cooking frenzy. "Did you and Killian talk?"

"This morning," Emma confirmed. "And stop worrying about me. You do realize that you're the client. I'm supposed to be taking care of you and worrying about you."

"Friends first," Elsa reminded her of the toast they had made when Emma first signed the two sisters to a development deal. They had been sitting in the middle of Emma's living room, lounging on throw pillows and eating popcorn and watching Dirty Dancing when the text from Regina giving the go ahead came in. Grabbing the first bottle they could find, they had toasted on cheap wine and promised that they would not forget that they were friends first and foremost.

"Of course," Emma said. "I just don't want you worrying about my dating life when we've got a photographer making more in an hour to do this photoshoot than I make in a week. We can commiserate over the brothers later."

"You think I'm having a crisis?"

"I think you don't know how to calm your brain down and let things happen. It's not a bad thing. I do it too, but if I know you, Elsa, you're freaking out about something right now. He did something. Something nice. Something sweet. And you're having that internal dialogue about why he did it and do you deserve such things."

"And it's written on my face?" Elsa said, wincing as another hot roller is removed from her hair and strands snarl in its grasp.

"God, I hope not because I don't know how to get someone to Photoshop out love sick fool."

Elsa did not return her friend's jovial smile. "Do you think that maybe…"

When Elsa paused, Emma took the opportunity and told the makeup artist to go and look at the lighting to ensure the finish was right. Sending the hairdresser on a similar mission, she waited until both had left the room. "What's wrong?"

"He wrote a song," Elsa said, as if those four words explained everything.

"The bastard," Emma said with mock horror. "Seriously, you've got to give me more than this. What song? What's it about? Why are you upset about a song?"

Taking a deep breath and concentrating on the luminous pink shine of her nails, Elsa opened her mouth and then closed it again. "He wrote a song about me. About us. About me and him." She frowned. "It just feels like a bit too much too soon."

"I see."

"I should feel honored, right? I should be flattered that I inspire him, but I don't. I want to. I want to feel normal about this. But right now I'm five seconds from running out the door, changing my name, and starting a new life. I'm acting like you."

"Ouch. That's not fair."

"Okay maybe not, but still. I'm not ready for this. He's writing songs with titles like Until You and I'm not sure I can handle that. Emma, I'm not…"

"You're not ready?" Emma suggested, covering her friend's entwined hands with her own. "I know you're not. You just need to be honest with Liam about it. Tell him you want to move slower." She stood up and crossed to the spot where the hairdresser had been standing. Using her fingers she tried to separate a few of the curls in Elsa's hair. That busied both of them for a moment longer.

"I'm not sure I'll ever be ready for that."

"It's a responsibility."

***AAA***

"So what was eating at Killian?" Robin asked before tossing the bag into the back of the car. "Your brother is an active bloke, but I don't see him taking two hour walks often."

"Woman trouble," Liam said distractedly. "Don't you have anything more professional than that to carry this stuff in? It looks like a duffel bag."

"Forgive me for not having a man purse. I couldn't even order one on Amazon what with this Regina woman calling us with fifteen minutes to prepare. I can appreciate that Emma is trying to give us a boost, but I'm not sure that us being dragged into a meeting with the head of the label unprepared is much of a help."

Liam could not exactly disagree. Last time he had spoken to Emma she mentioned that she would try to get them a spot at an upcoming showcase. She couldn't promise a recording contract, but that performing with other signed acts would be a step in the right direction. He had been grateful for her interest and swore he would do whatever he could to make sure they were ready for the stage. However, when his phone had chirped that morning with Regina on the other end, he was surprised.

Fumbling for his sunglasses, Robin squinted into the deceptively bright sun. It was still cold and there was a threat of snow for the following week, but to look outside and see the rays of light was to believe it to be much warmer. "Emma seems to be fighting awfully hard for us. She fancies your brother that much?"

Liam slid behind the steering wheel and Robin into the passenger seat. "I rather think she does, but it is my brother I question more. He's not really known for his interest in dating since Milah. It is understandable to a degree, but with this lass…I fear he might lose what is left of his addled mind if he was to not win her heart. I don't know that we could put together the pieces again."

"That's a bit dire given that they only just started seeing one another," Robin noted, pointing the way to where they were to meet with Regina. "He's a grown man, as you said yourself."

"Aye, but Killian is not a halfway sort of bloke. He loved Milah and would have married her had that driver…" He broke off with the realization that same drunk driver had taken life of Marian, Robin's wife. "I think that my brother has two speeds – hiding from the obvious and jumping into the deep end with all force. I only hope that he doesn't get his heart broken."

Robin nodded in agreement, turning the conversation to that of their meeting. They fell into a 10 minute discussion of which songs were their best choices and which would offer the best view of the assets of the band. "I can appreciate that your brother is making baby steps and jumping into this whatever it is with Emma, but I would prefer he have recovered his willingness to sing instead. Those two songs are brilliant, but they would be more so with Killian on lead vocals. Can't you hear it now? It would be fantastic."

"Aye, but that's hardly a battle I'm going to fight. My brother much prefers chattering on about my cleaning habits than he does about the songs I am writing. You remember well enough how he used to have that glow about him when singing or making music on that guitar. He barely even flinches any more when I attempt to drag him into it."

"Bloody shame."

***AAA***

"Did you always want to teach music?" Henry asked as Killian passed him a bottle of water before they began their afternoon session. "Did you ever think about doing anything else?"

"It is an enjoyable career," Killian broached delicately. He was sure that Henry's question was meant to delve a little deeper than simply career choice. Not knowing the student's true intent, he was programed to be vague. "Can't say it was one I considered at your age though."

Henry looked thoughtful, the plastic of the water bottle crackling as he took a swig. "My dad thinks that music is a waste of my time and that I should do something like play baseball."

So that was it, Killian thought as the young boy looked hopefully at him. Henry strived for acceptance, not only from his mother but everyone. It was a plight of many children as they began that transition to adulthood, wanting to strike out on their own but also please those around them. "And which do you think you would prefer?"

"I like music. I mean a lot."

"And you are quite good at it. I told your mother that when I suggested these lessons. What does your mother think?"

"She said it is my choice, but I know she would rather have me play the trumpet." He looked downward. "My parents are kind of always arguing about stuff like this. My mom will tell me to choose something. I choose because they both say it is my decision. Then my dad disagrees. My mom yells at my dad. My dad tries to tell me that he was just trying to help me. My mom tells me not to listen to my dad. And then I end up feeling like I disappointed someone." He frowned. "I really just want to play the trumpet, but not if my dad is going to be upset about it."

That was a mouthful for a preteen to say, as Killian knew from his teaching experience. Most of the time his students were more of the monosyllabic answer types. He would ask questions and their answers never varied much from yes or no. He had given up expecting well thought out solutions to essay questions or discussions. Instead he tried to interest and involve them in other ways. "It sounds to me as though you are a lucky lad, Henry."

"Lucky? Are you joking?"

"No, I'm not joking, Henry. You have two parents who love you very much. They want good things for you. And because of that you have great opportunities. Yes, that can be frustrating sometimes. But Henry the great thing is that your parents love you no matter what you decide. They can be disappointed, but they can also be really proud of you. I know I am proud of how hard you've been working and how far you've come with the trumpet. You can almost play this entire piece brilliantly without mistakes."

The young boy blushed at the compliment. "You really think I can make it? The audition?"

"I think you have a great chance at it. And if you chose to play baseball, I think that you could be quite good at that too. I'm sure that your mother would cheer you on from the stands." Killian was well aware of the coach of the younger team. He was demanding but a kindly man who had the respect of most of the teachers and parents. Henry would certainly not suffer.

"But I wouldn't get to do these practices with you." He watched Killian's features soften a bit.

"Perhaps not, but that is the one thing you will see in life that is a challenge. You won't be able to please everyone all the time. You won't be able to do everything that you want to do. So life, in many ways, is about balance. You must make time for the things you love and want to do and find a way to not ignore the other aspects of your life. But Henry, your responsibility is to be the best you that you can be. You are not responsible for pleasing your mother or father with your activities and hobbies. They will be happy if you are happy."

Lifting the trumpet in a move that showed his dedication was toward music, Henry placed it close to his lips. Then he paused, realizing he still had a question. "Did you have to do that? Did your parents make you feel that way?"

A slight cloud fell over Killian's features. "Not all parents are able to focus so much on their children for whatever reason. That's why you are a very lucky lad."

***AAA***

Liam sat in the most uncomfortable chair he had ever experienced, his knees feeling like they would brush his chin in a moment. He could not quite figure out how to rearrange himself to a more comfortable and attractive position though Robin had somehow mastered the technique. The former naval captain was about to ask his friend's secret when a side door opened and in walked the petite raven haired beauty. While beautiful, he would hardly have called her a delicate flower. Her features were angular and her eyes dark and forbidding pools of power that frankly intimidated him a bit. A plainer looking woman walked in with her, dashing over to replace a half full glass of water with one that was colder and fresher. The assistant even took time to twist a bit of lemon before placing a single dossier on Regina's massive desk. He was surprised the woman didn't bow and ask if anything else would be required.

Regina was dressed quite conservatively for a woman running a record label. She wore a steely gray pants suit with a silk black blouse underneath. Other than a silver chain around her neck and matching silver studs in her ears, she wore no jewelry. Giving the file folder a cursory glance, she gave them a tight lipped smile as she sat and performed a miraculous task of drinking from the water glass without leaving behind her red lipstick.

"Liam and Robin," she said as if trying to remember their names. "I'm assuming that," she looked down, "Will can't join us today."

"He's seeing to personal matters," Liam offered, shocking himself with his own formality. This woman clearly brought that out in him as though she demanded it. "I know he is disappointed at not being here himself."

Not looking at all convinced, Regina crossed her legs and leaned over her desk with her eyes still on them. "Emma has been bragging about your sound for a few days now. I asked her for a sample, which she provided. I've finally gotten around to listening to it."

Robin eyed the woman a bit warily. "And you liked it?"

"Mr. Locksley, I don't bring in talent that I'm not interested in promoting in some way, shape, or form. The recording that she shared with me is a bit raw, but I can tell there is something there. I am curious about where you're wanting to go with this. You aren't young men by any means. Are you seeing yourself with a contract? Are you just wanting to stay local?"

The question posed was not one that had been ignored in the past. Liam was older than Will and Robin by a couple of years. Robin was a widower and father. Will and Anastasia were trying to start their lives together. None of that would really lend itself to touring and the lifestyle that would be required for it. However, all certainly had a passion for music that they wanted to pursue. Robin tried to explain that the best he could with Liam chiming in that he was open to seeing where they could go with this.

"From what I gather, your guitarist is not original to the group. You just met him this week."

"Aye," Liam said. "He's learning some of the songs and coming around to help put some music with lyrics that I've been toying with a bit."

She nodded, lifting a single sheet of paper up in her hands. It was the run of show for the showcase, penciled in acts and nothing firm. She had it memorized, but the sight of her scrutinizing it did bring apprehension to both men. "Emma has suggested that we bring you in and let you do a song or two at our upcoming showcase. I assume that since you haven't had a lead guitarist and don't appear to have anyone capable of carrying the vocals that you haven't performed in…"

"It's been a few years," Robin supplied. "But I assure you that we are ready."

She gave a haughty but amused laugh. "No vocalist and a guitarist still learning the songs. Yes, that sounds like you're ready to me." Both men looked at each other as she paused. "Let's see what we can do. I have a few studio bands we can pull from. You bring your little group here on Saturday morning. We'll see what we can piece together. Now mind you this does not mean I'm signing you to a contract."

"We are appreciative," Liam said, attempting to stand without a groan or awkward gait. He failed as he almost fell forward onto her desk. Regaining his balance, he flushed red and stuck out his hand. "Thank you for the opportunity."

***AAA***

Killian draped the tarp over the boxes and used his foot to steady the corners as he tightened the rope and bungee ties. He did not even want to think about what his brother had been doing on his boat, as privacy never seemed to be a stumbling block for the elder Jones. He guess he could understand it a bit, as he had followed his brother around for years and inserted himself into the elder's life. There were numerous times that Liam had come home as a teenager to find Killian searching through his belongings or reading some note he'd received from an ardent admirer. When Liam had his first date to a movie, Killian had convinced his friends to see the same show, appearing two rows behind with a crooked grin and a look of triumph when Liam turned to see him.

Once it was just the two of them versus the world, the lines of boundaries became blurry. Everything was open and belonged to the both of them. They worked and slaved together to build their lives. It was why Killian's accident and his early exit from the navy had thrown both of them for a loop. Liam had called them lifers and fully intended to be happily commanding a ship that included his brother for the rest of his life. But without his hand, Killian was not eligible and that meant changes for both brothers. Killian had fled to the United States and fallen into teaching after trying a few ventures. Liam stuck it out a few more years in the navy until he could no longer remember why he was there. He kept his reasoning to himself but after a mistake that threatened and cost lives, he had taken his commanding officer's advice and returned to civilian life with no plans and no direction.

It was not that familiar of a position for either of the brothers. Liam had been the one looking for stability while Killian sought more. If he was honest, that was what had been wrong in his relationship with Milah. After 18 months of dating exclusively she was not hinting about wanting to get married. She came out and blatantly said it. He told her more than once that he was not looking toward marriage until he was in a place in his career that he could contribute. Milah said she understood, but always there were plans. She wanted him to try out for talent competitions and try to make it in the music business. She encouraged him to sell the songs he wrote, even submitting a few without his consent.

"It can be as bad as all that, brother," Liam said, arriving with one beer in each hand. He gracefully stepped onto the deck and thrust a bottle out to Killian. "Don't you have your date with the fair Emma to look forward to and your little excursions with the munchkins?"

"You're mistaking my look of concentration for one of melancholy," Killian said, accepting the bottle. "I am simply focusing on the task so that this weather does not do more damage to her."

"Very well, little brother. Don't drink yet though. I have some news we should be toasting." Liam raised one foot to rest on the bench, his smile growing in the artificial light of the boats working electrical equipment. "Your brother and Robin had a meeting today with Regina Mills. It went brilliantly."

"I would expect no less," Killian said proudly. "So you are signing?"

"Not exactly, but that could be on the horizon." Liam went on to tell his brother of the meeting and Regina's concerns that they had no lead vocals and a new guitarist. "We haven't really had a true singer in the group since your…you left. I realize it is asking quite a bit, but perhaps you could sit in on a song or two. It wouldn't be a permanent thing. Just give us a bit chance to show what we can do and buy a bit of a time before we have to find someone. I swear you wouldn't have to do much of anything. It'll be a simple couple of numbers. You can sit on a stool and sing them any way you feel most comfortable. The guys and I can play however makes it easiest for you. I know that it is asking a lot, but I'm coming here with nothing more than this favor to ask…"

The coldness of the chilled bottle felt like burning in his hand as he stared hard at the dark glass of it. "I suppose that is what you wish to celebrate? Me blindly following you and your dream again?"

"Is that how you see it? You following me? Killian, I have done everything I can to make sure that you have the opportunities that our father didn't stick around to give us. I chose my life to keep you safe and secure. I stayed…"

"And other than thank you, what do you want from me? Oh that's right. You want me to do the one thing I swore I wouldn't do." Pushing the beer bottle back into Liam's hand, he shook his head. "Eventually you have to stop using our father as an excuse. He left. We dealt with it. Plenty of people have crappy fathers. They don't build their whole lives around trying to forget or show up the man who didn't care enough to stick around."

"And that is what you think I'm doing?" Liam shook his head as though the movement would somehow remove the topic from the air. "You think I'm just a little boy looking for his papa?"

Sighing, Killian drew a line through the air with his hand. "I think that you live your life in the hopes that our father will somehow hear about us and what we have done. I think you want him to be proud r somehow regret leaving us. But he hasn't, Liam. All these years and he's never reached out. Not even once. What we know of him is from cyber stalking. It's not a fairy tale ending, but that is how it is. Did we really have it so bad? We had each other. We loved each other."

"We love each other," Liam answered in an almost whisper. "Killian, I don't regret anything I've done for you or to help you. I should not have asked. I know that you aren't ready and maybe will never be ready to face that part of your life again. I only thought that maybe with your dating Emma that you were facing some of those things again. You loved making music, writing, composing, performing, before Milah. I just wanted you to feel that again…to know it isn't tied to her. Your talent goes beyond that."

Killian was quiet as he opened the hatch door and began to climb down into the cabin. It took a moment before Liam followed along, using one hand on the rungs of the ladder and one to hold the two bottles. "Do you know what Milah and I were talking about right before that car crossed over the line?" Killian asked after the brothers both sat on the tattered fabric of the dining booth that he had not yet reupholstered. He didn't wait for an answer. "She wanted me to go on that bloody talent show audition. Said I was too good to be performing in pubs with you blokes."

Liam tried again to hand his brother the beer, sliding it across the Formica table that was bolted to the wall. "She was right, you know. You wrote the majority of our music. You were brilliant."

"But I didn't want to do that show. I wanted to be with my mates and make music. I wanted to play our songs until we all split apart with our lives and responsibilities. I wanted to look back on it as a fond memory like all groups do. But Robin was in the car that night. He and Marian started in on it too. They all put the pressure on me. They all thought it was such a good idea. I wasn't paying attention to the road or the other drivers, looking at my phone rather than…I was trying to find a reason that I couldn't. Perhaps I had missed the deadline or perhaps I wasn't the right age. Something that would prevent this from being a reality. Then I heard the crunch of the metal."

Liam's solemn face was testament to the fragility of Killian's words. His younger brother never spoke of that night, never talked of how it came to be that the driver had struck directly on the passenger side and those final moments when Milah's eyes closed to never open again. It was at times as if Robin and Killian had some unspoken pact about that night, some accord that they would not speak of the horrors that transpired. And while he had wondered and wanted to ask, he had restrained himself and fed on the tidbits they had shared. "It was not your fault."

"I know what the authorities said, Liam. I know that the other driver was twice the legal limit and had been observed wavering over the line for a full five miles before we encountered her. But had I not been scanning that phone, I might have noticed. I might have done something to maneuver us to safety rather than…I may not be the one who was at fault legally, but I do hold some of the blame. I was not doing anything more than I do now. I was looking for reasons to hide. I was looking for reasons that I would fail."

Liam picked at the bottle's label, pulling the paper from the damp glass. It took a moment of his concentration. "It wasn't your finest moment or smartest decision, but I knew Milah. If she was bothered by it, she would have ripped that phone from your hand and done the searching herself. She always wanted what was best for you, brother."

"Did she?" Killian asked, looking at the strips of paper his brother was pulling off the bottle. There was now a small stack of them. "You see, I've done quite a bit of thinking on that these past few years. I'm not sure that I agree. Milah was never quite content with the man I was or the man I was trying to be. She always wanted more. Wanted me to do more and be more. And sometimes I wonder if that was motivation or her own desire to live a life that I could not give her without that push."