“Stay away? Seriously?”
He sighs and wraps his hand around the back of my neck, fingers flexing before holding firm. “He hates me. Always has. I have no idea why. I could see him trying to use you to get to me.”
“That sounds ominous.” I squirm on his lap.
His fingers tighten, holding me still. “I won’t let him hurt you. He’s an ass, not a predator. His forte is of the verbal nature. I’m the only one he beats up—or used to.” He smirks.
Rowdy is a big guy at 6’5” and 230 at least. I can’t image him ever being small enough for someone to hurt.
“I won’t let him get near you. I just wanted you to know what the deal is.”
“Okay, I’ll avoid him.” I’m good at being invisible. Operation Avoid Rowdy’s Asshole Brother underway. Check.
“Right by my side is where I want you. Where I’m keeping you.” His lips graze my forehead, and I shiver for a whole other reason.
Stepping into my family home, my mother’s absence hits me square in the chest.
She should be here to greet me, running down the front steps if she saw me coming or dashing from another room if she heard the front door open.
She was always the first one to wrap me in a hug.
Comfort. Warmth. Home.
That was Mom.
Now, we’re greeted by an empty foyer. The silence, the stillness, the emptiness seems cavernous without Mom to warm it up, filling it with her voice, with her hugs, with her love.
Breaking the silence, Chuck advises he’ll put our bags in my room.
My room. Shit.
I turn to tell him to put Reese in the guest room closest to me, but her hand rests on my chest, and her next words steal my voice and my next breath, “I’d like to stay with you. If that’s okay.”
Her big blue eyes shine as she gazes up at me. All I can do is kiss her blessed mouth and say a silent prayer of thanks. I won’t have to sleep alone in this menagerie of memories and haunting rooms my mother will never occupy again.
“God, yes,” I find my voice. Forehead to forehead, my pulse evens out. “Let’s go find my family. Get the introductions over with. Then I’m stealing you away.” Though there are a million things to be done, napping with my Kitten sounds like a brilliant plan.
As I hold on to Reese, we trek to the back of the house toward the kitchen, keeping my eyes off the other rooms where my mother could usually be found.
“This is gonna suck,” I mumble to myself seconds before entering the kitchen, where I can clearly hear my family moving around.
Reese squeezes my hand, and with one quick glance of reassurance, we come face to face with my family—what’s left of them.
If trepidation was a cologne, Rowdy would be bathed in it. He’s usually so confident and commanding. It should throw me off, make me uneasy, but it emboldens me to straighten my spine and give him the strength he needs to get through this.
I don’t know what I thought I’d find beyond the walls of this glittering fortress, but it wasn’t the slight man standing before me, hugging his son like he’s the second coming of Christ.
“Dad.” Rowdy’s shoulders shake as he dwarfs his father in a soul-encompassing embrace.
God, my eyes burn, and my chest aches at the emotions thickening the air in the room.
His dad pats him on the back repeatedly, his face buried in his son’s neck, shaking just the same. “I’m sorry I didn’t call you sooner.”
Someone moans in agony. I look away, unsure if it was me or one of them.
“Hey.” A teary-eyed blonde about my size and age tentatively approaches. Her eyes dart to the heartbreaking spectacle of a son finding comfort in his father, or maybe it’s the other way around. “I’m Taylor. Cam’s sister.” She sticks her hand out. “You must be his Reese?”
His Reese?
Ignoring the shock of her even knowing who I am, much less claiming I’m his, I shake her hand without hesitation. It’s not women I fear.
“Yes.” Strangely, I find myself wanting to hug her, give her more physical comfort than just a heartless handshake as though I routinely hug people I’ve just met. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”
Her head dips as her smile fades. “Thanks.” Her gaze lingers on her brother then rests on the buffet of food on the counter. “Helga made more food than we can ever eat. Please make a plate and join me.”
“Helga?”
“Our cook,” she says matter-of-factly, like everyone has their own chef.
“Ah, it looks amazing.” I don’t have the heart to tell her I couldn’t eat even if I were hungry. I spoon up eggs, bacon, and biscuits from the chafing dishes.
Chafing. Dishes.
Lord, I’ve hit my head and found myself in an episode of Dallas.
I only know that show because the grandmotherly lady who used to watch me when I was young watched it on an endless loop from her massive DVD collection.
“Coffee?”
“Yes, please.”
She shrugs at the men in her life talking low and staring into each other’s eyes. “They’re going to be a while. It’s the prodigal son returning, you know.”
I follow her to the dining room.
The. Dining. Room. Who eats breakfast in the dining room?
Oh, right. Dallas or maybe this is Dynasty. My surrogate granny used to watch that one too and Knots Landing. Her TV viewing tastes ran in the incestual shows genre. She said you can’t find good shows like they had back then.
I beg to differ, but I was five. What did I know?
A cool brown gaze halts my progress. He tips his chin. “Taylor, aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?”
She sighs and pats the seat next to her. “Reese, this is our oldest brother Drake.”
I sit, keeping my stare guarded. Ah, so this is the asshole I’m supposed to avoid.
He doesn’t look a thing like Rowdy or Taylor. He’s short like his dad, small stature.
“Drake, this is Reese, Rowdy’s girlfriend,” Taylor continues the introductions.
His brow hitches. “You’re his?” The distain in his tone can’t be missed.
“Yes. She’s mine.” Rowdy’s hand finds the back of my neck as he practically growls at his brother.
Possessive much? Not that I mind. I’ve known brotherly protectiveness, but when it comes from Rowdy, it’s different—so, so different—a make-my-panties-wet kind of different.
“It’s nice to meet you.” Not really, but we are in a TV show, so we must keep up appearances.
Drake’s lip twitches as he sneers. “That it is.”
Rowdy sits with two plates piled high like a bunkbed. “You missed the pancakes, Kitten. Helga’s pancakes are not to be missed. Share mine.” His smile is sweet and sorrow-free. He may have dreaded coming home, but it’s obvious he needed the time he had with his dad.
Speaking of…
“I’m sorry, Reese. It’s been a while since I’ve seen my boy. I needed a minute.” Rowdy’s dad offers his hand over my shoulder and a kiss on my cheek.
Panic tightens my spine and steals my breath. Rowdy’s hand finds my thigh, easing me just as fast. “Dad, Reese doesn’t like to be touched.”