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She grinned. “It shouldn’t. I just had to send a few texts. First, to let Ivy know I was right.”
I followed her out of the coffee shop, the bell above the door dinging gently. “The brother’s girlfriend?”
Poppy nodded. “Cameron’s, I’m sure you remember him. She’s new in town, so I’m constantly having to give her everyone’s background.”
I chuckled. “The Wilder family should come with a brochure for newcomers.”
Poppy’s grin was infectious, and I saw hints of her parents and siblings in her wide smile. Setting a hand on her arm, I stopped walking. She turned with a question in her eyes. “I’m sorry about your dad,” I said. “I should have led with that as soon as I saw you.”
There was a specific way the face changed when someone was reminded of their grief. A pinch of pain in the brows, a straightening of the shoulders when they took a great deep breath.
“Thank you,” she said quietly. “Some days, I wake up and have a minute or two when I forget he’s gone.” Her eyes glossed over, and she blinked rapidly until it dissipated. “Then I remember, and…” Poppy sighed. “It’s not easy, even if it was expected.”
“I’m sure.” I swallowed. “How’s the rest of your family doing?”
The way Poppy glanced at me with an understanding curl of her lips, she saw right through my question.
How is he?
“We’re doing okay.” She gave me a meaningful look. “But I’m sure he’d love an extra friend right now.”
My eyes pinched shut, heat blooming through my cheeks. “I wasn’t even sure if he checked his old email address. He always hated phones and computers.”
Poppy laughed. “That has not changed, believe me.” She paused, pulling a key fob from her purse and clicking the button.
My eyebrows arched slowly while she unlocked the doors of a massive white truck with a Wilder Homes logo on the side. “Big truck.”
“Obnoxious, right? Mine is in the shop, so I’m borrowing this until it’s fixed.”
Even though my legs were long, I grabbed the bar on the inside of the truck to hoist myself in. The interior was immaculate and smelled like hot guy. It had been so long since I’d smelled an actual hot guy who came with a scent profile this good—crisp and clean and woodsy and wonderful—so I didn’t feel too terribly embarrassed to inhale deeply.
The truck’s engine rumbled loudly when she turned it on, and she started backing out of the spot, turning the wheel so she could head down Main Street.
When she went in the opposite direction of the one I needed to be going, I arched an eyebrow. “I can text you the address,” I told her. “My parents are about ten minutes south.” I pointed behind us. “Thataway.”
Poppy blinked. “Oh. Your parents, right.”
I eyed her suspiciously. “You are driving me home, right?”
“Mm-hmm.” Her gaze cut in my direction. “Eventually.”
“Poppy,” I said in a warning tone.
She sighed, shoulders deflating a little. “I was hoping to surprise you both.”
“Surprise who?”
“Did I mention my brother moved back here recently too?” she asked innocently.
This time, I didn’t have to ask which brother. There was no need for clarification. It was written all over her face. It was my actual job to string together words for a living. Clever words and interesting sentences had no place at this moment because any semblance of rational thought flew the fucking coop.
He was here.
He was here.
Oh good Lord, Ian Wilder was here, within a ten-minute radius, and I wasn’t entirely sure my breakable bones and fragile skin could hold back the supersonic boom of everything happening under the surface.
So many years, I thought, sadness and nostalgia and elation surging in a big, messy clash. For so many years, he’d been the anchor of my life. And so many years had passed without him in it.
