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“No,” Jane said. “It was good, actually. Dad ended up buying a house in my old neighborhood so I could stay at my high school, and that meant Robin transferred into my old middle school. I gave him a makeover, and he walked into the school as Jane Chadwick’s cute little brother. It didn’t hurt, either, that he was getting taller every day. It really turned things around for him.”

“Except your mother was a continent away from you.”

Jane tried to make a joke. “That was just as good. I mean, can you picture me in Vermont?” She stood up. “Why won’t Jules call?”

“You gave up a lot for Robin,” Cosmo pointed out. “No wonder he’s forgotten the bad stuff.”

Jane’s intercom buzzed. “Excuse me, guys,” PJ’s voice came through the speaker. “Patty’s here, says she needs to see Jane. I wasn’t sure—is this an okay time?”

Jane went around her desk, pushed the button. “Send her up.” She shot Cos a look. “They think we’re getting naked up here. Gee, we had twenty minutes. Why didn’t we think of that?”

Patty knocked on the door, and Cosmo opened it. “Hang on a sec,” he told the intern, closed it in her face, and turned back to Jane. “I think your mother was wrong to give you up without a fight.”

Her eyes filled with tears. “Oh, Cos, I really don’t blame her. I was impossible. And she’d just found out that she was pregnant with the twins. . . .”

“She was wrong, Jane.” He kissed her. “Some things are worth a little kicking and screaming.” He went back to the door. Opened it. “I’ll be downstairs. I’ll let you know as soon as Jules calls.”

“I have good news and bad news,” Patty announced as she came into Jane’s office.

“Bad first,” Jane told her, bracing herself, wiping her eyes. These days she couldn’t have so much as a conversation with Cosmo without misting up.

“You haven’t been watching the dailies, have you?” Patty was brandishing a videotape.

“I haven’t,” Jane admitted. She’d been a little distracted. Murphy and Angelina in the hospital, Robin dropping off the map, Cosmo turning her life upside down . . .

“You may want to get Robin in here to explain
this.
” Patty marched over to the VCR.

“Um,” Jane said.

“Don’t tell me,” Patty was scornful. “He hasn’t come home yet. I hate to break it to you, Jane, but your brother’s a snake.”

Okay. Jane had been expecting this particular meltdown for days now, ever since Robin went into avoid mode. But Patty’s timing was a little off. Jane would be far more in the mood for some solid Robin-bashing
after
Jules found him, safe and sound.

“Actually,” Jane said, “he didn’t come home and I’m very worried about him.”

Patty snorted. “Did you try calling Charlene, from Costume?”

“We think we might’ve found him,” Jane said, not wanting to make it worse by telling her exactly where. “I know you must be very upset, but please remember that I’m the one who told you, months ago, that he was a turd.”

“Wait’ll you see just how much of a turd.” Patty savagely punched the TV’s power button.

In the picture that appeared on the TV screen, Robin was gazing at Adam, his heart in his eyes. “I love you,” Adam breathed.

“I know that, too,” Robin whispered, and lowered his head to . . .

Okay. Yeah, Jane had written this scene. It was the farewell between Hal and Jack, but watching her brother kiss Adam like that was just a little too weird, considering.

Patty, however, was surprisingly unperturbed. “Wait a sec—I must’ve rewound it a little too far.” She fast-forwarded through to the end of the scene. “Here.”

The scene started again, with Jack opening the door to find Hal standing there. There were several lines of dialogue, but nothing that Jane could see warranted Patty’s crossed arms and “what do you think about that” attitude, other than the fact that this time around, her brother was playing Hal totally flat, as if they’d filmed a blocking rehearsal, his dialogue little more than marked.

Jane opened her mouth to speak, but Patty cut her off. “Watch your brother. Don’t you see it?”

On the TV screen, Robin said, “They need someone who speaks fluent German.” He was providing zero energy, considering this was a hugely emotional scene.

Patty spoke over Adam’s line. “Wait for it. It’s coming.”

“I came to say I’m sorry,” Robin said, sounding about as insincere as humanly possible. “And good-bye.”

“Good-bye?” Adam repeated.

“See?” Patty said.

Yes, Jane did see. This was where Hal was supposed to give Jack an envelope containing a letter he’d written.
Open in the event of my death.

“We’re leaving tonight,” Robin told Adam.

“No.” Adam was playing it upset, but not heartbroken.

“I’m sorry. I’m already late. I have to go.” Robin had either jumped several lines of dialogue, or yes, Patty, someone had indeed changed Jane’s script.

On the TV screen, the two men clasped hands instead of embraced. “Godspeed,” Adam said.

Patty triumphantly pushed the pause button. “Robin’s been providing HeartBeat with rewrites of the Jack and Hal scenes. In this version they’re friends, not lovers. They’re shooting everything twice.”

“Yeah, but look at what he’s doing,” Jane said. “He’s phoning it in.” She had to laugh. “He was keeping them off my back.” She shut off the TV. “He had no authority to make those changes. And as long as I never saw the dailies and didn’t know what was going on . . .” She sighed. “I know you didn’t mean to make things worse, but now I’m going to have to call HeartBeat and duke it out with them.” And they were probably going to pull their funding. “Shit.”

“No,” Patty said. “They just called.”

“HeartBeat?”

“Yeah. They said the D-Day sequence was definitely a go for day after tomorrow,” she told Jane. “The beach and the helicopter have been secured, and the extras have been hired—they’re taking care of all the arrangements for a four-day shoot, including catering and a special tent for the press. We just show up.”

“HeartBeat?” Jane said again. They’d originally told her she’d have one day—at most—to get the location footage for that scene. She’d been planning to film the dialogue and close-ups inside, on the soundstage. “The studio previously known as Those HeartLess Bastards?”

“They’ve just released a statement saying that they’re behind you two hundred percent,” Patty told her. “That they absolutely are not trying to change a single word of
American Hero
—hah!—and that their thoughts and prayers are with Angelina and Vinh Murphy and their families, and that they are doing everything in their power to ensure your safety.”

Jane couldn’t believe it.
“What?”

“Jane, that was the good news.” Patty had clearly expected Jane to be upset by the fact that Robin had “betrayed” her and thrilled by HeartBeat’s sudden unexpected support.

“It’s because of the attack—it’s made national news, hasn’t it?” Jane was practically foaming at the mouth. It had taken this, a brutal attack, to make HeartBeat offer their complete support. And the pathetic thing was, it could just as easily have gone the other way. She could picture the studio executives having a meeting to decide how to respond to this latest event. That’s how they saw it—an event that would make their stock prices either rise or fall.

Meanwhile, Murphy and Angelina were lying in the hospital, fighting for their lives. And Robin was missing.

A knock on the door.

Jane leapt for it. It was Cosmo. “Got him,” he said.

Oh, thank you, God! “Was he . . . where we thought he’d be?” At Adam’s?

Cos nodded.

“Holy shit,” Jane said. Robin had been serious, the other night in the car.
I might be gay.
Either that, or his role-playing game had gotten way, way out of hand.

“Where did you think Robin would be?” Patty asked, her voice tight, and Jane looked over and into her eyes. Eyes that were filled with far more hurt than anger.

Oops. Jane met Cosmo’s eyes briefly before he shut the door behind him. “You’re going to need to talk to him about this. I just don’t think I—”

“If it’s not Charlene, then who?” Patty asked. “Alana from makeup? Or what’s-her-name—doughnut girl—from craft services? Or one of the Karens in accounting?”

“Does it really matter?” Jane asked as gently as she could.

“No,” Patty answered. “You’re right. It doesn’t matter.” She laughed the way women sometimes laughed when they were hurt but trying not to show it. “As long as it’s not, you know,
Adam.
”

Jane didn’t bat an eye. She didn’t move a muscle. She absolutely didn’t react.

But somehow Patty stopped cold. “Oh, my God,” she breathed, staring at Jane. “Robin was with . . .
Adam
?”

“Maybe you better sit down,” Jane said, but Patty turned and bolted from the room.

The expression of shock and dismay on Adam’s face when he opened the door was all Jules had to see.

That, and Robin’s backpack sitting right there by the front door.

Still, as his stomach twisted, as he dialed Cosmo’s phone number, he requested verbal verification, looking up from his phone and into Adam’s face. “Is Robin here?”

Amazingly, Adam considered lying. Jules could see it in his eyes. The same eyes that glanced over at that telltale backpack.

But even Adam knew when not to push it. So he nodded. Now the emotions on his face were a mix of guilt and remorse. “Yeah.”

Cosmo picked up. “Richter.”

“I’ve found him,” Jules reported. “I’ll see him safely home.” And wasn’t that going to be a treat. He snapped his phone shut over the SEAL’s thanks, pocketing it.

As he came inside, shutting the door behind him, he let himself look at Adam.

His ex wore a pair of ratty sweats that he’d obviously pulled on to come to the door. He was leaning against the wall as if he were too tired to stand. His hair was a mess, his eyes were bloodshot, he needed a shave and a shower.

And a serious beating.

Jules worked to unclench his fists. “You look like shit.”

“I feel like shit,” Adam said. “Jesus, J., I don’t know what to tell you. I was drunk and he was all over me, and—”

“Stop.”
He was all over me.
How many times had Jules heard that? The next part of the speech was
I didn’t mean for this to happen,
and if those words came out of Adam’s mouth right now, in this situation where they both goddamn knew that Adam had meant for
exactly
this to happen, God only knew what Jules was going to do.

“Where is he?” As if he had to ask.

“In the master bathroom,” Adam said. “He’s been riding the porcelain bus all night. Ask me how much fun
that’s
been.”

Jules had never hit anyone that he wasn’t on the verge of arresting, and as badly as he wanted to, he wasn’t going to start now. He took off his jacket and hung it neatly on the coat tree near the door.

He could see into the living room from here. There was no furniture, just a few boxes. Beyond that, he could see a kitchen.

He went in, rolling up his sleeves.

It was spacious and beautiful with a tile floor, maple cabinets, and granite countertops. Stacks of more boxes that hadn’t yet been unpacked sat in a corner. He opened the refrigerator, which was stocked—as he’d expected—with bottled water. Adam didn’t drink from the tap.

“For the record,” Adam said, following him into the kitchen, “for half the night, it was all about Jack. Jack this, Jack that. The rest of the time, he called me Jules. I think he’s in love with you.”

Jules managed not to throw the bottle he’d grabbed, but just barely. He closed his mouth over words that would only give Adam satisfaction. The bitch had to goddamn make it harder. He had to make it hurt worse than it already did.

How could it have come to this? Adam had loved him once—Jules knew that he had.

Adam opened his mouth to add some additional pearl of wisdom, but Jules spoke right over him. “Make some coffee, and then sit here with your mouth shut. Do not leave the kitchen.”

“You know, you can’t just come in here and tell me what to—”

“Make. Coffee. Mother. Fucker.”

Adam grabbed the coffee beans. “All right, all right. Chill. God . . .”

Jules carried the bottle of water into the living room and down the hall that led to the back of the apartment. He had to go through the bedroom to get to the bath, and he tried not to look at Adam’s king-size bed. Tried and failed.

He failed so badly, he stopped walking. He just stood there, taking in the sheets and blankets that were twisted and askew, at the pillows that had been knocked onto the floor along with the color confetti of condom wrappers.

God damn it. So much for the hope that nothing had really happened.

“So, okay,” he said.

Life was filled with tragedies of all sizes. And, frankly, compared to Murphy and Angelina lying in that hospital over at UCLA, this didn’t even register.

And yeah, maybe if he repeated that to himself, over and over, this would hurt a little less.

But probably not.

I think he’s in love with you.

Yeah, right, A. Thanks for taking advantage of Robin, for giving him yet another reason to loathe himself, for making everything that he was going through right now more difficult than it had to be.

Jules went to the bathroom door, took a deep breath, and pushed it open.

No surprises here.

The bathroom was as nice as the kitchen, with a shower stall big enough for two and an enormous jacuzzi tub. The most eye-catching feature, however, was the extremely well put together naked young man stretched out on the tile floor.

Robin was sleeping or unconscious—hard to tell which—with his head between the toilet and the wall.

Buck, stark, shiny-white-ass naked.

God, but it smelled bad in here. Jules stepped over Robin to flush the toilet, then stepped back to open the shower door and turn on the water, letting it heat.

He set the bottle of water on the sink counter and moved to get a closer look at the best way to extract Robin’s head from— Ah, jeezus, he was sleeping with his cheek against the toilet bowl brush. Gross.

Someday this was going to be funny. Someday, years from now, he’d have lunch with Alyssa and they would laugh and laugh and laugh.