But if I object to this, O’Shea will no doubt make my life miserable. Same way he did back in high school.

“Nope, it sounds like fun.” I force the words out and resist from giving him the finger.

He nods in approval. “Well, look at that. Maybe you have changed. The Dean Di Laurentis I knew only cared about one person—himself.”

The jab stings more than it should. Sure, I can be a selfish bastard at times, but I hadn’t done anything wrong back then, damn it. Miranda and I had been on the same page…until suddenly we weren’t.

But I guess it doesn’t matter who was in the wrong, does it? Because it’s pretty fucking clear that Frank O’Shea is never going to forgive me for what went down between me and his daughter.

6

Dean

First thing I do after I stalk out of the arena is call my older brother. It’s Sunday, so I try his cell first, though there’s a good chance he’s at the office. Nick works long hours at the firm, including most weekends. I think he’s trying to impress our dad with his dedication to the law, and honestly, I think it’s working.

The cheerful voice that slides into my ear, however, doesn’t belong to Nick.

“Dicky! Yay! I haven’t spoken to you in ages!”

The nickname never made me cringe when we were kids, but now that we’re adults, it’s fucking mortifying. As far as I’m concerned, once my little sister learned how to pronounce Dean, our folks should’ve ordered her to kick Dicky to the curb. Then again, ordering Summer to do anything pretty much ensures she’ll do the opposite. My sister is a stubborn brat.

“Why are you answering Nick’s cell?” I ask suspiciously.

“Because I saw your name and wanted to talk to you first. You never call me anymore.”

I can envision the pout she’s no doubt sporting, and it brings a smile to my lips. “You never call me either,” I point out.

Summer goes quiet for a second. Then she heaves a colossal sigh. “You’re right. I don’t. I’ve been a terrible sister.”

“Naah, you’re probably just as busy as I am.” I head down the cobblestone path toward the back of the training center, making my way to the parking lot.

“I have been pretty busy,” she relents.

I hear a loud snort over the extension. “What was that?” I ask.

“Nothing. Just Nicky being an ass. He’s been driving me nuts all weekend. Has he always been this uptight, or did it happen once he became a lawyer?”

She says “lawyer” as if it’s a dirty word. Though to Summer, it probably is. My sister had declared at the age of twelve that law is “hella boring”, and eight years later her stance remains the same. She only agreed to attend an Ivy League college to placate our parents, but last we spoke, she told me she wants to go into interior design after she graduates.

“Compared to you, everyone is uptight,” I tell my sister. “Which isn’t to say I approve of all the batshit crazy things you do.” Summer is two years younger than me, but she gives me a run for my money when it comes to grabbing life by the horns and seizing the day and all that crap. I’m surprised our parents haven’t disowned her yet.

A thought suddenly occurs to me. “Why are you in Manhattan? Shouldn’t you be at school?”

“I felt like visiting my big brother.”

Her tone is way too innocent for my liking. “Bullshit.”

“It’s true,” Summer protests. “I wanted to see Nicky. And I want to see you too, so don’t be surprised if I show up on your doorstep sometime soon.” She pauses. “Actually, I’m thinking of transferring to Briar.”

An alarm goes off inside me. “Why? I thought you were happy at Brown.”

“I am. But…uh…yeah.” Summer sighs again. “I’m on probation.”

I halt mid-step. “What did you do?” I demand.

“What makes you think I did something?” There’s a sniff over the line.

“Save your Little Miss Innocent act for the parentals.” I snicker. “Not that it works on them anymore, either. Now tell me what happened.”

“Let’s just say there was an incident at the sorority house. Togas were involved.”

I choke down a laugh. “Can you be more specific?”

“Nope.”

I groan in exasperation. “Summer—”

“I’ll tell you all about it when I see you,” she chirps. “Nicky wants to talk to you now.”

“Summer—”

She’s already gone. My brother’s deep voice comes on the line half a second later. “Hey,” he says.

“What’d she do?” I ask him.

Nick gives a hearty laugh. “Oh no, I’m not spoiling it for you. All I’m going to say is, classic Summer.”

Fucking hell. I’m not sure I even want to know anymore. “Do Mom and Dad know?”

“Yup. They’re not thrilled about it, but it’s not like she got kicked out. It’s just two months of probation and twenty hours of community service.”

The last bit distracts me from Summer’s woes. “Speaking of community service…” I quickly fill him in about O’Shea’s new gig at Briar.

“Shit,” Nick says when I’m done. “Did he mention Miranda?”

“No, but it’s obvious he still blames me for everything that happened.” Bitterness clogs my throat. “A part of me is tempted to track her down and talk some sense into her, maybe ask her to speak to her dad.”

“She didn’t bother doing that back then,” Nick points out. “Why do you think she’d do it now?”

Good point. “I know, but…” I reach my car and jam my finger on the key fob to unlock the door. I’m still on edge from O’Shea’s unexpected reappearance in my life, and I just want to get the hell away from the arena. “Whatever,” I say darkly. “I guess it’s stupid of me to think Miranda would want to help me. I’m the monster who broke her heart, remember?”

“You want my advice? Just keep your head down. Show up for practice, do what O’Shea says, and don’t start any shit. Spring will be here before you know it, and then you’ll graduate and never have to see that bastard again.”