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his dysfunctional family routinely stole the joy from happier moments. Why should his pleasure to have Megan’s company tonight be any different?
    “My father was a good man, but not very attentive to his wife. My mother tolerated his preference for work over her—for the most part. Despite that, I think they had a relatively successful marriage. Outside of her liking to pretend we’re part of some sort of secret Ohio based aristocracy, she’s mostly a decent person.”
    Megan tilted her head at his dry tone. “I never met your mother, but I met your father several times. Teenagers clue in fairly easily to people with an inflated image of themselves. I never felt anything remotely inflated from your father. He was very down to earth despite all the money he made.”
    “Dad wasn’t without his faults, but yes. . .you’re right. Mom is not going to be happy when I show up with you. She may be a bit condescending. Don’t let her get by with it.”
    “David said your mother remarried.”
    Nicolas nodded. “Yes. My stepfather is not worth our breath to discuss him, but I know we have to. Just don’t expect me to say anything good because he’s a leech. When Ross moved in with her, he brought two other bloodsuckers with him who are older than me and don’t work. The net is my stepfather doesn’t work, doesn’t pay attention to my mother either, and for the most part, doesn’t act like he loves anyone but himself. To this day, I have no idea why my mother married him. Disliking Ross is the closest I’ve come to hating another human being.”
    Having expected Nicolas to offer up ages and personality assessments, Megan blinked at the enormous outpouring of emotional information about his personal life. Not knowing exactly how to process the information, or soothe his distress over it, she reached over and curled her hand over his tightly-clenched fist. The physical contact started the whole flutter thing up in her stomach again, but she ignored the discomfort it caused to act like his friend as much as she could. She tightened her grip, not really surprised when Nicolas unwound his fist and gripped her firmly back.
    “I’m sorry I wasn’t here when you lost your father. I tried to get leave, but was denied it because I was shipping out the following week. It was probably the only time I served where I got fed up with what I was doing. I thought about you for months but couldn’t get up my nerve to contact you after the fact—not even to send a letter. I regret my lack of action more now. I don’t like knowing you were alone with no one to talk to.”
    Nicolas shook his head and gripped harder. “Not your fault for doing what you had to do—what you’d committed to do. Dad was sick for less than a year and then one day it was just—over. I think his death was a relief to everyone but me. In fact, I’m still not used to him being gone. And I never once expected you to shirk your duty to come home. There was nothing you could have done to change things. At least where you were, you were doing something productive.”
    Before she could second-guess the action, Megan scooted to the middle of the seat and pulled their still linked fingers onto her thigh. It felt so good, she scooted even closer until they were touching arm-to-arm. More words would have broken the moment, so Megan didn’t use any. Instead, she ran a thumb over his knuckles. His hands were smooth and free of calluses. Hers were rough and textured from the life she’d led.
    When she lifted her gaze from their hands to his face, Nicolas moved his mouth near her ear. The warmth of his breath as he contemplated his words lightly touched her.
    “You’re the only person who’s ever had the ability to comfort me, so please don’t go away again. I don’t think I could survive it a second time.”
    His whispers had the same effect they’d had in his office. She shook all over—first in anticipation and then in sympathy for what he shared.
    Megan