Free So This Is Love by Barbara Freethy

across the table at his mother, who seemed intent on sending him some sort of silent message. She wanted him to break the tension; he just wasn't sure how to do that. His mother and Spencer were far closer to each other than he was to either of them.
    But he had to try something. He pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and slid it across the table. "I looked through some online employment sites earlier, and I wrote down a couple of possibilities."
    Spencer didn't bother to pick up the paper. "I can find my own job," he said flatly.
    "I'd like to help."
    "So you can stop feeling guilty?" Spencer's gaze filled with anger. Apparently, his brother was done hiding his feelings.
    He knew Spencer was baiting him, itching for some kind of fight, although he didn't know why. Spencer should be happy to be free, but instead he was extremely pissed off. Obviously, he found some comfort in anger, but Max was tired of being the focus of his brother's rage.
    Actually, he was just tired, another reason he should bite his tongue.
    "Nothing to say?" Spencer persisted.
    "You obviously have a lot to say, so say it."
    "Let's not do this now," his mother interjected, giving them both a worried look. "Can't we enjoy the fact that we're finally together again?"
    "I don't think Spencer can," he said, staring at his brother.
    "No, I can't." Spencer looked him directly in the eye. "You let me go to prison. You let me rot in that hell-hole for seven years."
    "I tried to help you. There was nothing I could do."
    "You were thinking like a cop and not like a brother."
    That was so untrue, it was almost laughable. He'd almost lost his job for interfering with the investigation. But Spencer had never understood the difficult position he had been placed in. No amount of explanation would ever make Spencer see things differently, so Max was done trying.
    Spencer threw down his napkin and stood up. "I've had enough."
    As Spencer strode out of the dining room, his mother gave him a disappointed look. "I was hoping you two could make peace, Max."
    "I'm not the one you should be talking to."
    "I know Spencer is angry and bitter, but who can blame him? He tried to save the life of the woman he loved, and he went to prison for it. You have to find a way to reach your brother, Max. It can't be on him. He has enough to deal with. He needs your support whether or not he asks for it or wants it."
    He hadn't heard his mom so passionate about anything or anyone in a very long time.
    "Please, Max," she said, desperation in her eyes. "He's so angry. I'm worried what he'll do. I'm afraid I could lose him all over again."
    "I'll talk to him," he said, getting to his feet. It probably wouldn't help, but he'd give it a shot.
    He found Spencer out on the back deck. He was sitting in a deck chair, staring out at the night.
    Max took the chair opposite him and for a few minutes there was nothing but the quiet of the night, and in the distance, the sound of the waves crashing on the shore.
    "Do you want to talk?" he asked after a moment. "Fight some more? We might as well clear the air."
    "I don't feel like fighting anymore."
    He was surprised but also relieved. "All right."
    A few minutes passed, and then Spencer added, "The flowers smell so strong. It's been a long time since I smelled anything so—pretty. I'd forgotten that the world could smell this way, that the stars could be so bright, that the air could feel so crisp against my face. I can taste the salt in the air, and it's both familiar and very odd."
    There was less anger in his tone now, more of a dreamy quality, as if he was experiencing some surreal moment.
    "I feel like a stranger in a strange land," Spencer continued. "I don't know how I'll fit in here."
    It was the most his brother had said to him in years and revealed some of the vulnerability that Spencer had been hiding behind his anger.
    "You have to give yourself some time, Spencer."
    "Time has passed so slowly the last seven years. I don't want to waste