Jordan was busy with his nose in a book most days, which was a given when a man was his in final days of law school. But it did leave Hadyn with one of the more time on his hands than he rightly deserved. His junior year at Columbia was going smoothly, his love life was... well, it was going as normal, and at some point he was going to start preparing for medical school. Five years ago he wouldn't have pictured this, though he also had not pictured being alive. Or maybe he just hadn't pictured being able to walk.

"You going to go out with us?" Jax asked him, turning to Hadyn curiously before waving a hand in front of the other man's eyes.

"Mm?" Hadyn said, looking up at Jax before pursing his lips and shaking his head. "Oh...no. I have a paper for Professor James to finish, and you know how that goes." He'd be up all night, yeda yeda yeda.

"Oh, yeah....I know." Jax muttered, raising a brow. "You do know it is highly frowned upon to have affairs with your professors, correct?"

"Um, well...only if you get caught." Hadyn replied, before getting up from the table, lowering his voice, he leaned into Jax. "And no one would get caught if you'd keep your fucking voice down, yeah? Besides, sleeping with Professor James hardly improves my grade. More like...I've made it a lot harder to get that A, because he wants to grade me on my 'other' skills as well." He grinned as Jax rolled his eyes and turned to walk away.

Though, Jax did have a point. He was pretty sure it was against at least two rules to have affairs with your professors. But, hey- Professor James definitely had been the one to make the first move, and who the hell was Hadyn to say no? The forty-five year old man was, in a word, hot. Turning away from the park bench, Hadyn started off toward his home, idly wondering if giving the Prof a call tonight and the offer of sex would get him an extension on that deadline.

Mm. Probably not. Probably just make it worse, really.

Georgios Kattalakis wasn't strictly speaking fond of the idea of sending his twenty year old daughter - not even old enough to purchase firearms legally in a few places - to meet a new contact, but occasionally it was unavoidable. And for all she projected the air of innocence that was invaluable to keeping certain authorities off their scent, Zoe enjoyed it, too. Part of it was the challenge, because she was smart and clever and underhanded enough to be very good at her father's business, but part of it was the inevitable shock and surprise when someone arrived at the designated location and found their arms contact was a girl with curly dark hair and a penchant for feminine dresses instead of a dangerous looking Greek national with silvering hair and the same wary and guarded look that almost all their clients had.

And for the same reason, naturally.

Zoe was armed with a description, a time and a place, not to mention a litany of words of warning and orders to abort at the first sign of something shady. The last was a little laughable, though she didn't laugh. Everything was shady, after all. Every person she met was shady. Zoe could count on both hands the number of people she'd had regular contact with in her life who weren't circumventing the law on a regular basis, and almost all of them she'd met at school. Still, she knew what her father meant, and her light blue eyes were sharp and watchful as she stood in the park at the exact arranged location. It was dusk, early enough not to be automatically suspicious, but late enough that not so many people would be around.

She arched a brow when she saw him. Her father still had the illusion of giving her some kind of plausible deniability, so her background was thin, but her contact was tall, with pale skin and dark hair that looked like it might have the tiniest trace of auburn in it, and she could extrapolate. Irish, probably, which mostly meant one thing when it got down to it. Not that she was going to say anything about that, she thought as she turned just slightly.

No names, either. "Hello," Zoe said. "It's a beautiful evening."

Two years before, when he'd told Gael Shaw that he was looking at Arsenal, and Monaco, it was with the bravado of a college kid who thought he might have his pick of places. But the truth is, while the U.S. was growing it's soccer talent, it wasn't like the European leagues were fighting over who got a goalkeeper from Stanford. Arsenal had been interested, but ultimately decided to use their cash on a midfielder from Sweden. Monaco had been considering, but same sort of thing, and ultimately Carlos Sánchez landed in Belgium, at Club Brugges.

It's been fine, he thinks; better than, he likes his teammates, and the initial skepticism in the face of the Mexican-American goalkeeper melted away when Carlos showed them his best impression of a wall and helped pull Brugges to the top of the league again, and then into the finals of the Champions League. But all that aside, it's good to be home, and he squints at the sun as he steps out of LAX before sliding his sunglasses on.

And then back down again as he spots a familiar face looking for his car. Their car, probably, he thinks, and he approaches Gael and taps his shoulder. "You must be my date for the carpool," he intones, and smirks. "How's tricks, Shaw?"

Gael wasn't sure this had been his best idea since the moment he'd boarded the plane in London. His manager had tried to keep him from reading the news, but it was just a matter of time before someone said something. His blissful ignorance had lasted until he stood up to board and someone screamed out 'wanker!' at him. When he'd turned to look back, the man was wearing a Chelsea jersey and pointing at him aggressively before straight out flipping him the bird.

Things hadn't gotten any better by the time he'd landed. British Airways had Sky News on as their default entertainment, and forty minutes into the flight Gael had the chance to relive the worst game of his career at Chelsea followed by a break down of the 'American' being called up for the USMNT. That was followed by what seemed endless speculation about just why he wasn't playing for England. 'Sure, he was born there. But lets be honest, The Americans have offered him something to get him to play for them,' the man had said. Followed by endless talk about the World Cup qualifiers that detailed how he'd probably made the worst choice in going to play for the US. England was on a bloody tear.

The US...not so much.

Still, with the plane headed straight on to California there was no turning back. He'd agreed to play for the US, and even if he could go back to London and sign up for the Lions- they wouldn't take him.

Getting off the plane, he immediately felt out of place. Sure he'd been back to the US across the years, but the sun was high and bright in the California sky. It was almost alien to him, as he couldn't even recall Chicago being that bright and sunny. Or maybe it was that he spent most of his time indoors, or surrounded by buildings as tall as mountains.

Pushing it back, he grabbed his bags and headed out into the heat of the west coast summer. It only took him a moment to find the car waiting on him, and 2 hours later- he was walking into the newest USMNT training facility.

"Alright, your gear is stored in there, we'll have shuttles pick you up from the hotel and take you back every night. But you're the last one here, so get changed and get out to the field. They've been waiting for you." The trainer said, before leaving him alone and looking more than a little out of place.

"Great, not a problem." He muttered to himself.

Getting changed, he made his way to the field, and looked about. It only took him a few moments to make his introductions, get his marching orders, and again wonder if he'd just made the worst decision ever. So far, no one seemed overly pleased to see him. And to make things better, his first task was apparently to help the keepers warm up.

"'Ello," he said as he came up to the group, "was told to head over here. Shaw, Gael Shaw." He held out his hand as he looked at the other men- all looking at him oddly. Right.

He was going to die, Hadyn thought as his foot sank deeper into the snow and he stumbled. Catching himself against a tree, he winced as snow scattered to the ground around him. Looking down he could see the blood that was slowly oozing out of the wound at his side. A knife wound, not particularly deep...but it was enough to slow him down. It was probably what that damn Rook had had in mind when he caught the Spade with the blade. At first Hadyn had pushed it aside, determined to worry about it after he got home, but he didn't even make it half way to the Deck.

His back tire hit the black ice and spun out from under him fast than he'd really had time to react. In truth, he was probably lucky that he had be flung head first into the pavement of the road, and left as road kill. Instead he'd landed roughly in the snow, skidding and tumble across the ground before coming to a stop. His cracked visor hid the wreckage of his bike from his view, but he could make out the flames as they licked up toward the sky. And then everything had faded to black. He was lucky again, he thought, that when he came back around, the Chess Pieces hadn't found him where he was buried in the snow. Or at least, he didn't think they had as he pushed himself up and looked about.

Hell they hadn't found the wreck yet- but he wasn't going to waste time waiting for them. Looking about the area, he wasn't sure it mattered if they chased him down or not- there wasn't a damn thing out there that he could see. So he'd picked a direction, away from the road, and limped his way into the woodland landscape. What had started as small wound, he thought as he looked away from it, was now just as likely to kill him as the fucking cold. As the Chess Pieces if they caught him. Hell, just as likely as Jordan to kill him for being an idiot if he survived all of this to begin with.

"Well," he muttered to himself as he pushed off the tree and swallowed back the pain. "At least Mother will be happy- I'm finally dead, out of her way. Something, fuck....something good out of this." He didn't have to look down to know he was leaving a trail. Looking up though, he saw the faint outline of a cabin ahead, smoke rising out of the chimney. He almost cried, both for the good fortune and the fact that fate was obviously mocking him at that moment. "Well...freezing to death didn't sound that great, Hadyn." He said to himself as he started forward with renewed vigor. In the distance he could here sounds coming from the road, likely the Chess pieces finally giving chase now that dawn was here.

Moving to the Cabin as quickly as he could, Hadyn started running through all the things he could tell this unsuspecting soul- 'sorry, I don't want to die in the cold, but we're both going to probably die' just didn't seem likely to go over well. Not that he was coming up with anything better as he stepped onto the porch and banged on the front door of the cabin. "O-open up," he shouted as he hit the door, "F-fuck, please.....Open up."

If someone had told him ten years ago that he'd be a Nine of Spades by 22, he would have laughed in their face. He was more, or less, convinced that by 20 someone was going to have put a knife through his back long before he could imagine what being a Nine of Spades felt like. But here he was, he thought as his breathing slowly calmed, his chest heaving less and less as the seconds passed. He looked down at the face of Aylmar Woodward, empty- glassy eyes staring back at him as the blood pooled around the body. Looking up, he could see Jordan given him the standard expression- caught between disapproval and mild relief. Over his brother's shoulder, Hadyn could see Katya looking back at him with even more disapproval, and possibly annoyance. Accidents happened, but he imagined that few people thought it was really an accident that Hadyn's knife had seated itself between the older man's ribs and into his liver. By the time the medics arrived there was nothing left to be done.

If you had also told him that by 22 he would have personally been the cause of four people's deaths in a challenge, he would have been very hard pressed to believe it.

Turning away from the scene on the floor, Hadyn bent down and picked up his knife before he walked slowly toward the bench that marked out his side of the arena, barely glancing at Julien as he cleaned the blade and set it down. His mentor's face was harder to read, like a blank canvas that watched the scene play out without much concern for the outcome. After a moment of silence stretched out between them, there was a slight 'hmph', before the man turned and looked Hadyn over.

"Quite the body count you've started," he said, looking back at the corpse that was being collected. Looking up, Hadyn regarded him carefully, trying to gleen whatever he could from the empty, mild look on Julien's features. Ever a difficult man to read, Hadyn thought, frowning just a little.

"It wasn't planned," Hadyn said, "but...."

"Had to make Nine, mm? With Brother dearest's promotion...." Yes, that was one way to look at it. Two ranks, that is what he'd had to jump to get there, and that had been no easy feat. Jordan, generally, kept his pace moderate as he moved up the ranks. Slow and steady as he kept his eye on Hadyn's progress almost as much as his own. Their mother had determined Hadyn should never been far behind Jordan- logically because should Jordan become King, he could appoint Hadyn to Ace and it looked more reasonable if Hadyn's rank matched the responsibilities. Illogically, Hadyn wondered if Laureline hoped he would get himself killed trying to keep pace with his brother. "Well, to each their own I suppose."

Hadyn rolled his eyes a little, picking up the towel as he watched Julien move away and blend into the departing gawkers. Ah, well....From 7 to 9. Two ranks. It wasn't the first time it had ever been done, at least.

Carlos had been at work, something he'd apparently volunteered for, so it made slipping into his rooms by mid-afternoon. He'd spent the morning and most of the afternoon with his father and sister, the three of them gathered in Daniel's kitchen and happily watching Leon's favorite Christmas movies in honor of their missing member. They'd opened gifts and ate. At least until Daniel had kissed the heads of both his children and told them to go- see their friends, lovers, which ever they wanted. Gael suspected it had been more for his benefit than Noelle's as his sister seemed content to stay put on the couch.

He took that time to set up a tree with a small gift in the otherwise cheerless living room. He then set about cooking a dinner, which with a little bit of Ty's help, that he was certain would be ready before the other man finally came home. He set the table after dinner was done, and poured the wine before he glanced at the clock and wondered if he should have just waited and done a dinner for Carlos and his siblings tomorrow. His nerves kicked up, and there was an anxious knot in his stomach as he found soft instrumental music to play in the background as he looked over the scene.

He'd changed while the food had cooked, but suddenly felt over dressed as he looked at himself in the hallway mirror. Was he really going to do this? Was he really doing all of this with the express intention of admitting to Carlos something he didn't think he could do more than once. For that matter, what the hell did it say about him that he felt sick to his stomach, nerves firing off as worry and doubt crept into his being as a whole. Who was he to think this was all a good idea?

Not that he mattered, he thought as he heard the door start to open. He really didn't get much chance out of this, did he? He was stuck, he had to go through with it... Lightheaded, dizziness aside, he was without escape and that meant all he could do was.....

Move to the bedroom and close the door to hide just a few moments longer. At least until he felt less like throwing up and more like he could handle this like a grown up.

So, Ollie thought, he was having a meltdown. That's what Sam would have told him if his eldest sister was still alive to. Then she'd tell him to give himself twenty minutes to embrace the meltdown and then go deal with the shit. Lenore would have prescribed a long walk somewhere quiet. Carine....would have poured him a drink.

In a way, he did all three before he came back to Ty's wing - sitting with his head in his hands in a quiet corner of Club Castle, then walking through Town and the gardens at Heart Castle, and finally getting Cailean James to pour him a whiskey at his dad's bar on the edge of the Spade and Diamond districts before he walked back. By then, Elisha and Hadyn had left. He imagined Sarah had been by, and Carlos, too, but the hall was empty now except for a nurse in a chair in the hall, and he checked his watch. Just past six, he thought. Still early, but then, every person who cared about Ty was bent on making the people who'd done this pay - including him.

"I brought apology food," he said, lifting a bag up. "It is, unfortunately, the daily special at Mackinnon's, but Cailean assured me it was one of their cook's better attempts."

Christmas in London was, theoretically, magical. Bas didn't see a whole lot of it, really, not with the hours he worked, but both Whipps Cross and the houses in his neighborhood had started to light up with it. Then there were the volunteers who'd started showing up dressed as St. Nicholas. It was, really, a bit odd for him, even after four years of university. On the Deck they ostensibly celebrated Christmas, but in reality it was closer to Yule.

Still, he thought as he sipped the coffee he'd gotten at the cafe across the street from the hospital before he'd started the trudge home, it was nice, it put people in a better mood, and certain bits - like the carolers - reminded him of home. It was the more old fashioned traditions the Deck always seemed to adopt from Outside. He smiled a bit as he trailed a group of singers down his street, starting to move around them as they paused at one of the row houses. But then he stopped himself, tilting his head at a familiar tenor singing "God Rest Ye Merry, Gentleman." Last time he'd heard that voice singing - was probably last year's revue. Last time he'd heard it at all?

When the owner had pinned him down in the ER a month or so back. Bas slipped behind the group and tapped Gael's shoulder.

"Moonlighting, cheri?"

Ty's eyes fluttered slowly, and for the first moments he was lost as to what was going on. He had no recollection of where he was, though he could quickly put together that was he in some sort of hospital room. He could also feel his toes, and move his hands- so...that ruled out, well...something. There was a steady beat on a machine to his left, the loud beeping keeping time with his remarkably steady heart as he stared at it before he spotted Ollie sitting in a chair- asleep from everything he could see.

But...that still didn't explain why he was there. Or, actually, why Ollie was there. Maybe they'd gotten into some sort of bar fight. He doubted he'd drank too much, he wasn't a particularly heavy drinker even when he could afford to drink as much as he wanted. Reaching up, he ran a hand over his face, before he sat up. He seemed....alright.

Why couldn't he remember what had happened? The last thing he remembered had just been him....going to bed. So why....

"What's....what's going on?" He asked, reaching up to rub his temple as he tried to message the dull buzz out of his head. There was a persistent fog in his mind, he thought. Maybe after he just woke up more he'd manage to work out that the fucking hell was going on.

Hadyn had hardly left his son's side since Oliver had brought him home. He'd not seen the boy's eyes open in the time since, either. Coma, the doctor said, was a mixed blessing- it would allow the boy to heal without him suffering through the worst of the pain. But the longer it went, the doctor also said, the less likely that his eyes would open. Thus far it had been 2 weeks, 2 very long and exhausting weeks. Jordan had of course come, it had been his brother who had first managed to pull him away- partly on Elisha's insistence that he needed to go sleep....that nothing would happen while he slept. Afterward, the brothers had sat and quietly discussed the hunt for the people behind this attack.

Jordan was doing what Hadyn could not, at the moment- hunting down not just those responsible, but everyone who had a hand in this malicious act...and their families. Hell, he thought, would rain down of the Clubs once he found them. Even if Elisha cautioned him, promised he would find the man or woman responsible and deal with it accordingly. Hadyn also suspected that Oliver and Sarah were working to uncover it with Carlos' help as well- given the three of them after seemed to meet up to speak in hushed voices. Gael Shaw, at least, seemed uninvolved and relegated to merely delivering the man food and coffee with a bit of idle conversation to go with it.

Today had been much the same as other days, at least until Oliver showed up and all but pushed Hadyn out of the make shift hospital room to sleep or eat...or do anything that didn't involve staring helplessly at his comatose son and trying to will him to wake. A part of him, even, was a little grateful. He hadn't said as much, but rather put a hand on Ollie's shoulder and nodding slowly before moving out of the room and across the hall to a door that lead out into a small courtyard in the castle. It was there he sat, instead, as the smoke from a cigarette curled up around him...staring at the wall across the way instead of his son.

Hadyn was in his office, nearing lunch and making some vague plans with Jordan to meet for lunch- not that his brother was being particularly helpful in planning. Mostly it was a series of 'yes, lets' and 'sure', 'sounds good'. It was enough to make Hadyn roll his eyes, and if it weren't for the fact that he was probably no better it would have sniped at Jordan for it. He'd even turned his focus to actual work when his phone went off again, and this time he did roll his eyes expecting it to be Jordan- once again. Only, it was not.

Carlos Sanchez might not have legally, or biologically been his child- but Hadyn thought of him as one. He'd been a constant in the house since the boy was 8, and at 18 he had been brought into their home without question or hesitation when his own had tossed him out. Hadyn, in fact, had been there for many of the big moments in Carlos' life. From discussing his sexuality, to his first challenges. Elisha had trained him in krav maga, and taught him to draw. They invited him to celebrate every major holiday with them. Carlos was his child, in so many ways outside of name. And so when Ty mentioned that Carlos had not come to work that day, and someone else had spotted Gael Shaw stumbling through the castle toward Carlos apartments, it was without hesitation that Hadyn was on his feet and out the door.

Moving to the younger man's apartments, he knocked lightly on the door, a look of concern on his features as the other man opened the door. "Well..." He said as Carlos looked at him, "you seem to be in one piece at least. Perhaps you'd care to share lunch with me? Unless, you've a guest you need to worry about?" Jordan, alas, could wait until later for his lunch.

She couldn't blame either of her dads for waiting to call her until the next day. Elisha had, she imagined, had Carlos and Ty and Oliver to deal with, on top of Gaël. Then Daniel Prochazka, then Noëlle almost first thing the next morning. Hadyn had had...well, the theatre. And with all the dramatics, it was natural that no one thought to call the person on the periphery of the situation until she'd been making coffee in the apartment above her store. Patrick Zeitlin hadn't seen her with Gaël, after all.

Though she couldn't help but think - if she hadn't been so distracted with the suite of jewelry she was designing for a new bride in the Diamonds, and had let Gaël drag her away from her blowtorch and welding materials, would they all have been better off? Then, at least, with Ollie calling Ty too, that bastard would have been hopelessly outnumbered, and she might have been the one to make sure he was dead. Sarah wasn't usually one for might have beens, but she couldn't help considering the possibilities as she stood in her kitchen letting her coffee get cold. Was she isolating herself from her family by living away from the Castle? How was it that Gaël's insane ex hadn't even seen her? How did she get to a place where she was so apart from what was happening to her friends - and her family, because Carlos was as much her brother as Ty was. Those increasingly turbulent thoughts were why, in the end, she listened to Daddy, and didn't rush into Carlos' suite at Club Castle. She leaned on her stores of patience instead, and waited.

Waited until Dr. Prochazka and Gaël had gone back to the Victorian style house she'd spent half her teenage years in before she showed up at the door, a ridiculously cheerful bouquet in hand and a smile pasted on her face that didn't reach her worried dark eyes. "If I'm the first person to bring you flowers, love," she said though, "then I'm worried that our friends don't really get you, and I'm just going to have to retrain them. Of course, Ty is hopeless, but I've got hope for Oliver and Carlos."

The text message almost didn't wake him up; it was only because, by some coincidence, he gone to Mooseknuckle tonight and ended up upstairs with Eric that he even picked up the phone after the bartender elbowed him in the side. And even then he just stared, uncomprehending, before he made his fingers move in reply to Hadyn Novak. "I've got to go," he whispered as he tossed the covers back and pulled on clothes. "I'll explain later today," he added as Eric leaned up on his elbows. He'd come up with something, at least, when he could think past the feeling in the pit of his stomach as he nearly ran down the steps outside the bar and turned towards Club Castle.

None of the guards tried to stop him - one, in fact, laid a hand on his arm and said he could take him - and it was less than ten minutes between Hadyn's text message and Daniel's arrival at Carlos Sánchez's apartment door. He raised his brow just a bit as the door was opened by a handsome Latino man with Elisha Kagan at his back, but then he was inside, and the King of Clubs led him to the bedroom door before leaving with the man who couldn't be much older than Gael. Leaving before Daniel could demand to know what the fuck had happened.

And then there was Gael, and what happened paled in comparison. "Gael," he murmured as he sank down into the chair that had been pulled close to the bed. His hand lifted and smoothed over his hair. Somehow he had a suspicion he knew what - who had happened. Someone he'd asked to be sent away years before in return for a favor he'd done for Jordan Novak. Someone who damn well better be dead now.

He smiled, though, as Gael blinked up at him, and pushed his glasses up on his nose. "Rough night, mm?" he said, switching to French. It wasn't his native language the way it had been Léon's, but it had always been the private language between them and their children.

Ty had run off to fight dinosaurs at the edge of the Deck - or check on odd reports at the Outposts, one or the other - and Carlos was, as usual, half-convinced it was all a ploy to avoid paperwork. He didn't understand that, really; paperwork was just a matter of reading, signing and foisting it off on Krista, the Four who was trying to be a guard but right now was mostly an assistant in a uniform. The real challenge when sitting in for Ty Kagan, he always thought, was dealing with the other Suits. The Hearts were fine; the Diamonds just required patience, but the Spades?

Maybe it was because Esteban was old enough to be his father, really, he thought as he propped his boots up on Ty's desk and aimed a bland stare at the wall in front of him as the the Spade captain muttered a stream of Spanish in his ear.

"You know, I can speak that too," Carlos said it the same language, affecting a bore tone even as he aimed darts at the board in front of him with what was probably unwarranted force. "It doesn't really change that I need you to send me the report. I'm not asking for blood, here." Might be easier to get, though, he thought as flung a dart towards the target and the door opened to the right. He glanced up, expecting Krista, and blinked when it was...not.

"Hasta Luego, Esteban," he said before he hung up the phone and smirked a bit at Gael. "What, are you here to report a crime?"

He rather hated fittings. They were usually uncomfortable, and consumed with needles and standing still and just....annoyance. And then, currently, he was also uncomfortable with the questioning look Phillip Durand was giving him as to the bruises that littered his torso. Luckily the man didn't actually comment on it, and the fitting went on without much worry. Even if it was utterly boring, and Phillip kept sniping at him to stand still. Christ, it was a body suit with fur on it, just why did it take so long?

"Darling, might I change back into my clothing now?" He asked leaning down to peek at Phillip. "Pretty please, darling? I don't want to embarrass myself with, well..you know. And you are right there, and just imagine how uncomfortable we'll both be."

He smiled gleefully as Phillip grumbled at him and waved him off. Skipping away from the man, he moved to find his clothing before he started trying untangle the costume and slip his own clothing back on, all the while singing softly to himself. If he was quick, he thought, he might catch up to Carlos before the man disappeared in the company of Tyler Kagan for the night- and five beers in.

A couple of Threes had told him he looked smug today, which had earned them nothing more than laps. Carlos wasn't a harsh captain, he didn't mind being friendly with the other guards, but he knew well enough that if he didn't draw line somewhere, he was going to lose all authority. Besides that, he thought, tilting his head as he watched them round the track again, it was fun.

"Are you going to tell me I look smug too?" He asked blandly as Ty paused next to him. "Because, you know, I can probably convince Lady Eileen that you need to run laps too." He very much doubted he could pull it off, actually, but it was his favorite card to pull, if only because of the immediate eyeroll.

She'd insisted on finishing out the semester - because, for God's sake, there was only two weeks left, and she didn't want to be that girl who was making up her finals. Even with what Elisha kept reasonably pointing out (at louder and louder volumes) was a perfectly valid reason to be making up her finals. She wasn't going to let Jesse win the battle of public relations, a statement that had had her dad groaning theatrically and wondering out loud why his children were basically his father.

The dads had, therefore, spent the next two weeks at the Park Plaza while Sarah had thrown herself into her NYU classes headfirst and refused to think of anything but Greek Architecture and the History of Urban Design until she'd passed all her exams. Then, of course, she didn't have that to concentrate on, and she was on a plane home with her parents and one very worried older brother.

In Chicago, it was kind of easy to pretend none of it had happened, Sarah thought as she spun in the swivel chair in her dad's study. Not entirely; neither of her dads were going to let her do something like...pretend it hadn't happened, as much as she sort of wanted to do just that. But she sure as hell had no risk of ever running into Jesse. She wrinkled her nose as she caught the direction her thoughts were starting to go - she could transfer to a college in Chicago and get almost the same program. She'd definitely never run into Jesse Vaughn-Mackenzie in Chicago. He'd told her a dozen times that he was amazed someone like her came from the Midwest.

God, she thought, why hadn't she dumped him in the first week? The world would never know.

Sarah shook her head as she heard the front door slam, and spun in the chair again as a way too serious-looking version of her baby brother (she had fifteen minutes on him, it counted) started past the study. "You took your damn time," she said, and half-smiled, half-smirked as he swung his head to stare at her. "I was thinking maybe that Ollie got scared by the idea of Kagan Family Togetherness and the two of you were hightailing it back to L.A."