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Chapter Two
Zach wasn’t surprised to find Faith and Mina sitting on the front step of the guesthouse he usually stayed in when he was home.
The main house on the Harper estate felt like Faith’s now. Had kind of been that way since Grey had died and Mina had gotten married. He assumed it would only feel more so now that Faith’s fiancé, Caleb, lived there too. He knew his old room upstairs in the big house was still waiting for him if he wanted it, though he’d hauled all his stuff out of it several years ago. But the guesthouses were more private. More space. If he was going to do what he had come here to do, he’d need more space. So here he was.
And here were his sisters waiting for him. Identical pairs of gray-green eyes watching him with carefully neutral expressions. His sisters didn’t much resemble each other. All three had different mothers, though Faith with her long brown-blond hair and tanned skin looked more like him than tall, dark-haired, pale, and slender Mina.
But the eyes—their father’s eyes—marked them as siblings.
Would Grey be disappointed to see the three of them now, silent as a group of cats sizing each other up?
Probably not. He would have told them all to pull their heads out of their asses, have a drink, and make up.
He could try suggesting that tactic, but Zach doubted it would work for him.
For one thing, Mina didn’t drink.
So here they were, the three of them. Face to face for the first time in a … well, longer than he was proud of.
He’d known they’d be here.
Once he’d walked down Main Street in Cloud Bay there had been zero chance of his sisters not hearing that he was home before he made it to the house. He was guessing it had taken no longer than ten minutes for one or both of them to get a call from some well-meaning resident to let them know that the black sheep of the family was headed for the old homestead so to speak. He was probably lucky that Faith’s mom—his stepmom—Lou hadn’t joined in the less-than-welcoming committee.
“Okay, who ratted me out?” he said, dropping his duffel bag at Faith’s feet. He smiled, hoping to lighten the situation.
His sisters exchanged a glance that basically said that wasn’t going to happen.
“Too many people to mention,” Mina said, tone cool.
“And really, the bigger question is why anyone had to tell us at all?” Faith added. “Did California lose all means of communication or something?”
Faith was more pissed than Mina. That had been true for nearly a year. Mina was usually the peacemaker. But from the frown she was directing at him, she was clearly on Faith’s side.
“I’ve been on tour,” Zach said.
“Tour ended two weeks ago, didn’t it?” Faith asked.
He should have known that she paid attention to those things. “Yes. But you know what it’s like when you’re done. There’s still shit to do. And sleep to catch up on.” Also there was figuring out what the hell it meant if your lead singer suddenly wanted a year off. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. But I’m here now. So are you going to let me inside?”
“Be my guest,” Faith said. But neither of them moved.
“What?” he asked. “Is there a secret password I need to know?”
“Why are you here, Zach?” Mina asked. “Is everything okay?”
Definitely less pissed than Faith.
“That depends on your definition of okay,” he quipped.
Faith paled. “You’re not sick?” She reached for Mina’s hand, knuckles white as she squeezed it.
Crap. He hadn’t thought that they might leap to that conclusion. After all, the thing that had sent Grey running home for good in the end had been cancer.
“No.” He held up his hands, palms out. “I promise you, I’m fine.” He looked down at his sisters’ linked hands. “Breathe, Faith.”
She blew out a breath, looking slightly embarrassed. Then tossed her hair back over her shoulder as she let go of Mina’s hand. “Good. So then, what?”
He’d been hoping to put this conversation off for a few days. He needed to sleep some more, shake the exhaustion that had been riding him since even before Ryder had dropped his bombshell, and then get his plans clear in his head before he brought them to his sisters. But apparently there was no grace period for the not-so-prodigal son.
