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Matt finally matched his speed at the one-mile marker. “You’re running like the hounds of hell are after you,” his brother said.

“Yeah,” he ground out, glad his brother didn’t press him for more conversation.

At mile two, Andy had lost track of how far ahead he was. Honestly, he didn’t care. All he could think about was how the most important friendship in his life hung in the balance because of a spontaneous kiss on the mouth.

It hadn’t even been agoodkiss, but a hard, fast kiss fueled by pent-up longing. He increased his speed again.

At mile four, he finally looked over his shoulder. Matt was still behind him, but he was pretty far back now. The girls were nowhere in sight. Even though he didn’t want to talk to his brother, he slowed his pace until Matt caught up to him again.

“Don’t spill your guts yet,” his brother said, shaking his head. “If you do, you’ll only have to repeat it when we get back to the park.”

His mouth twisted. Crap. He hated talking abouthimself, and Lucy sure as hell wouldn’t want him talking about her. “There’s nothing to say.”

“Bull,” Matt said in a hard tone. “Brace yourself for Sibling Sharing Time.”

Leave it to Matty Ice to call it that. Andy increased his pace again, leaving his brother behind in the dust. When he returned to their starting point, his sisters were talking by the edge of the park, a good ways from the path. Obviously, they had turned around at some point. They turned when he slowed, twin frowns twisting their features.

The realization that they’d all taken time from work save Moira to talk to him—before he picked Danny up—made his gut quiver. Matt stopped beside him, breathing hard.

“You kicked my ass today,” he panted. “I think you were running an eight-minute mile.”

“Too bad I wasn’t competing in the New York marathon,” he said wryly.

“You should consider it when you’re pissed,” Matt said, bending over at the waist. “I haven’t seen you run like that since…”

His brother trailed off, unable to say it. They never could call it out.

Andy’s heart wrenched. “Since Kim got sick and died.”

Back then, he’d run until his body couldn’t continue in the hopes it would drive away the fear and the pain. Or make him tired enough to sleep. But it never had. All it had done was release all the pent-up emotion inside him, and, trying to be scientific about it, he’d let himself cry out the grief, knowing it was as much of a natural body function as urinating.

His brother put a hand on his shoulder. “Come on. It’s time to tell us what the hellis going on.”

When they joined Natalie and Moira, he blew out a breath. “You must be pretty worried to have joined us for a run.”

“We are,” Natalie said, not mincing words. “Why couldn’t Lucy drive herself home last night, Andy? We know something’s going on.”

“I can’t tell you that,” he said. “Lucy made me promise, okay?”

Moira put her hand on his arm. “Is she sick? I know she said she wasn’t, but…”

He shook his head. “No, she’s not. Thank God. But what’s going on is tough, and that’s all I can say.”

Matt started stretching his calves. “I don’t like this. You’re bottled up tighter than I’ve seen you in forever.”

His brother still couldn’t say Kim’s name. “You can say it.Since Kim.And you’re right. I haven’t been this upset since Kim got sick and passed away.”

He hated the way Natalie’s lip quivered, and Moira’s eyes went blank. They’d all dealt with their pain in their own way.

“I know you’re worried,” he told them. “And I appreciate your concern. But it doesn’t change anything. Lucy needs a friend, and that’s me.” Something he might have blown to smithereens with that kiss, but he wasn’t about to tell themthat.

“Fine,” Natalie said, all matter-of-fact, a clear sign she was frustrated. “We won’t ask you to break a promise to her. All we want you to know is that we’re here for you. We can help out with Danny if you need to be with her more.”

“Where were you and Lucy this morning?” Moira asked, putting her hands on her hips. “It’s not like you to take off work.”

He staredher down. “You’re one to talk.”

She frowned. “You can be such an ass sometimes.”