Lyle set down his beer on a water-ring stained nightstand and handed Rafe’s back without thinking about it. He’d almost died. Once through no fault of his own, and the second time…that would have been around the time that Randy showed up. What had brought on that slip in destiny? The fact he’d pursued Randy at all? Or was it something deeper, like deciding to confront Randy with the truth of the O’Connell bloodline? Was it turning away from his father when what he’d really wanted to do was rip his father’s throat out? Or had turning away been the thing that saved him?
Except the timeline didn’t make sense; it couldn’t be any of that. Rafe hadn’t dreamed of him again until Lyle had made the decision to…what even? Follow his nose? Listen to his instinct? Or until he had the dream of his mot
