Page 28 of Weight of Guilt

He wasn’t sure if he should alarm the sisters by telling them what he’d found. But he didn’t feel right keeping it from them either.

Wren lifted her head as she spotted Nash heading back toward her. She and her sisters stood huddled together, and Mason had his arms around her waist. Christian stood on the porch as if afraid to get too close. His hair was wet as if he’d showered, and he wore some sweats and a T-shirt Wren thought might have belonged to their father.

“Who’s he?” Mason nodded at Christian.

“He’s . . .” How did she even answer? She’d told Mason before that she had a brother, but he wasn’t around anymore. She hadn’t been sure how much more his seven-year-old brain could handle. She’d told herself she’d tell Mason the whole story one day.

That day hadn’t come yet.

Before she could find her words, Mason peeled away from Wren and made a beeline across the yard toward the porch. The boy had never met a stranger—a fact that terrified her.

Probably because Christian had once been the same way.

“Mason—” Wren started.

But he was already gone.

Christian straightened, visibly tensing as Mason approached.

Mason stopped a few feet short of Christian, head tipped back to take in the whole of him. “Who are you?”

“Mason.” Wren raced across the yard.

“It’s fine.” Christian’s eyes hadn’t left Mason. Something moved behind them, there and gone too quickly for Wren to name it. He leaned over, bringing himself level with the boy instead of towering over him. “I’m your uncle. Christian.”

Mason’s eyes widened. “You’re Uncle Christian? But I thought . . .”

Christian offered a half smile. “I know.”

Part of Wren felt relieved she didn’t have to hear the explanation, that they’d chosen to cut it off when they did.

“I climbed really high up a tree.” Mason announced it like a credential, his chin lifting with pride despite their panic. “Everybody was really scared, but I found a good spot.”

“I heard.” The corner of Christian’s mouth moved, not quite a smile. “You know, I used to like climbing trees when I was about your age.”

Mason’s whole face opened up. “Really? Could you go all the way to the top?”

“Higher than I was supposed to.” Christian glanced past him, toward the oak at the property’s edge. “Your mom used to yell at me to get down the same way she probably yelled at you.”

Mason nodded solemnly as if they’d just discovered they belonged to the same secret club. “I’ve always wanted an uncle. Are you gonna live here now?”

Christian’s jaw visibly tightened. “I don’t know yet.”

“You should,” Mason said. “Then you could watch me climb it again sometime. I bet I could go higher.”

“I bet you could.” Christian’s voice became garbled. “I’d like that.”

Mason grinned. Then his attention snagged on Bo as the dog trotted past toward the porch steps. He took off after the dog, already shouting something about showing Christian his soccer ball sometime.

Christian remained on the porch, and something passed over his face. Grief over the childhood he’d lost maybe? Longing to go back in time?

He straightened slowly and caught her watching. “He’s a good kid.”

“He is.” Wren studied her brother’s face, filing the moment away. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” Christian looked back toward the spot where Mason had disappeared around the barn, Bo’s bark trailing after him. “He just—” He shook his head, didn’t finish it. “He reminds me of someone.”

Wren didn’t ask who. She thought she already knew the answer.