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sort of thing. Kid stuff. No leads, but…”
    “Yeah.” Del cast a dark look through the window at the back of Blake’s head. “I’ll try to talk to him again. Anyway, he’s grounded until further notice, so even if he was involved, he won’t be in the foreseeable future.”
    “How are you going to ensure that? What’s to keep him from sneaking out again?”
    Because I told him not to and he wants to live. He swallowed the words. Tick’s even voice echoed the doubts that had circulated in Del’s mind since he’d laid down the restriction. He was in a damned-whatever-he-did situation—come down too hard and alienate the kid further, do too little and watch the kid sink. It didn’t help that these days he felt like a visitor in his son’s life.
    He pushed his hair back from his forehead and shrugged. “I guess I’ll camp out on the couch at ho—” He cleared his throat. “…at Barbara’s for a few nights until he gets the message.”
    One of Tick’s eyebrows angled upward, his expression one of supreme amusement. “Does Barbara know that yet?”
    “No.”
    “Can I be around when you tell her?”
    “No.”
    “You’re no fun.”
    “I’m glad you get so much amusement out of my problems.” The words emerged on a snarl and Del cringed. Sweet Jesus help him, he sounded like Blake.
    Tick stepped back, hands lifted in a gesture of surrender. “Sheesh, Del. I was kidding. Chill out, brother.”
    “Do I make fun of your problems?”
    Tick’s face closed, the polite mask of his law enforcement training slipping into place. “What problems?”
    The ones that have you looking like a damn ghost. “According to Tori, you’re nursing a broken heart.”
    “And Tori watches too many of those flippin’ old romance movies.”
    “So you’re not pining for someone, huh?”
    “No.” With a savage twist of his wrist, Tick flicked his cigarette butt into a nearby ash can. “I’m not pining for anyone. Listen, I’ve got to go, but if you need any help with Blake—”
    “I can handle it.”
    Tick nodded, a shadow of disbelief in his eyes. “I’ll see you, then.”
    “Later.”
    He watched his brother walk back to the dusty pickup he’d driven for almost ten years. Tick’s normally fluid gate seemed jerky, the whole line of his body tight with a deep tension. Worry nagged at Del’s gut. Maybe Tick wasn’t pining, but one thing was for sure—his health wasn’t up to par.
    Inside, he nudged Blake’s shoulder. Blake looked up and pushed the headphones back. “Sir?”
    Del gestured toward the empty practice area. Girls gathered near the exit, greeting mothers and giggling in small excited groups. “Where are your sisters?”
    “Getting dressed.” Pulling the headphones back into place, Blake nodded toward the locker rooms.
    Ten minutes later, with no sign of Lyssa and Anna, Del sighed and moved toward the locker area. How long could it take to change? It wasn’t like they had several outfits to choose from. He resisted the teasing nostalgia pulling at him again. Barbara’s penchant for changing clothes two or three times before deciding on an outfit had driven him crazy more than once. If he’d given Blake a gene for stubbornness, Barbara had passed the slow-dressing gene to their girls.
    The locker room possessed open doorways, with a concrete block divider to prevent those outside from seeing into the dressing area. Del paused at the water fountain on the outside wall.
    “Anna, you saw it.” Lyssa’s excited voice, as hushed as she ever got, carried to him. “They were going to kiss .”
    His heart sputtered like a gas-deprived engine. Lord, he hadn’t even considered the idea that the girls had seen the near-kiss he’d shared with Barbara. And it sounded like not only had Lyssa seen it, but she was putting together fantasies of Mama and Daddy together again.
    “Lys, come on.” Anna’s voice emerged muffled for a second, as if through a T-shirt being pulled over her head.