I turn to see a woman walking toward us, her steps confident but fluid. She’s tallish, with black hair that falls just past her shoulders. Her eyes are keen and intelligent, carrying an air of both quiet authority and warmth.
“Del,” she says warmly, her accent faintly European. “I was hoping I’d run into you.”
“You’ve got perfect timing,” Delilah says, gesturing to me. “Galeana, this is Nysa. Nysa, Galeana.”
“Ledger’s wife,” I say, standing to shake her hand.
She smiles, her grip firm but friendly. “The one and only. I don’t think I’ve heard of you.”
“It’s nice to meet you,” I say, genuinely meaning it. “I live next to Hopper and Maddie, heard some about you.”
“Oh, Hopper. I haven’t met him yet,” she states.
The three of us fall into easy conversation, and I find myself relaxing more than I expected. It feels . . . normal. She tells us about her honeymoon in Seattle. I’m tempted to ask if she met Atlas there, but that’s silly. Atlas and Ledger . . . those two will never be friendly. They’re too complicated. I wonder if Ledger would ever change if he learned how he defended him from their father.
Would he even care?
I don’t understand messy families, but then again, I don’t have one of my own. Would things be different if my parents had lived? Maybe I would be fighting with them because of my life choices, or my brother and I . . . times like this make me want a family so much. Will I ever find one?
Chapter Twenty-Two
Hopper
The Timberbridge family has never been good at talking—or at doing anything together. We’re fucking great individually. Ledger was a hockey star until his injury. There’s Mal, a former kick-ass FBI agent—turned small town sheriff. Let’s not forget Kier, whose successful business has done a lot for people and of course made a lot of money. Add Atlas, who is a famous tattoo artist that everyone seeks. I might not be rich or famous, but I’m a good damn veterinarian.
But together . . . well, together we’re nothing.
Fighting among each other is our best trait. We obviously learned that from our father, who made sure we hated each other, which meant sometimes he didn’t have to do the beatings himself. Our fights would end up with bloody noses and purple eyes that our father enjoyed. After that, we excelled at ignoring each other. For years we went no contact, unless our mother forced us. Therese Smith was a force; we loved her even when we resented her.
But sitting in a room, laying everything out on the table, and actually working through a problem? That’s never been our strong suit.
We never tried it, not even when Mom died.
Once she died and we learned about her will, we fought. She had left everything to her children—all five of us. The thing is that Atlas wasn’t one of us. Ledger, Mal, and Kier fought the will because he wasn’t Therese’s child. I honestly didn’t care then or now. By that time I understood that family isn’t blood. You can love a child even when they aren’t yours. Even if you’re hurting. When Maddie came to me, I was physically and emotionally hurting, but I fell in love with my daughter almost instantly.
I do believe Mom had hated Dad for bringing his son, but also that she learned to love Atlas like a mother should.
Once my siblings realized they couldn’t take away the inheritance from Atlas, we tried to agree on what to do with Old Birchwood Timber. But we even failed at that. Kier and Atlas want to sell. I don’t give two fucks, but Mal insists that we keep it.
Ledger is in charge of doing something with it. And what did he do when he came to town? Not what he was ordered. Nope. Instead, he married Galeana Adele Monroe. Granddaughter of Dante Doherty and heiress to his fortune.
Nobody knew her, but he married her anyway. He invited me to the wedding, but I didn’t want to bother. Maddie is too young to last through a ceremony and a reception, more so when I believe that he’ll get divorced before the end of the year.
It sounds like I don’t have faith in my brother, but we Timberbridges suck at relationships. Not any one of us has had luck with that. None. Of. Us.
And even with our story and the little faith I have in becoming a family, here we are.
Ledger, Malerick, and me, sitting around my dining table, bourbon in hand, talking about the Hollow Syndicate like we’re some kind of task force instead of just three brothers trying to make sense of something bigger than us.
Malerick is almost sure that they’re the same people responsible for the bodies buried in the backyard.
“I had no idea Erick Stinson died. Why haven’t we heard of it?” I ask, concerned about the safety of my child. There’s a real organization trying to fuck over us all and we’re treating it like it’s nothing. “Are you sure it’s safe that we stay?”
Ledger leans back in his chair, his expression unreadable, while Mal sits hunched forward, elbows on the table, his brow furrowed like he’s trying to solve an equation that doesn’t add up. I sit between them, arms crossed, my own drink untouched in front of me.
“It is safer than running away,” he states. “If you leave, they’ll think you know something is wrong. You don’t want them to hunt you, do you? Stinson’s family doesn’t want anyone to know what happened to him. And as far as they’re concerned, you’re not aware of anything. The fire being arson, or . . . Nysa’s property.”
“I knew about the fire,” Ledger finally says, his voice even, measured. “Didn’t know about the bodies. If I had known, I wouldn’t have come back, Malerick. I . . . I can’t put my wife in danger.”
