Page 56 of Coming Home

"Ralph?" I whispered into the dark.

"Yeah, Ems?"

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"For pulling me out of the deep end."

His arm tightened around my shoulder, pulling me so close there wasn't a breath of space left between us. He pressed his lips to the top of my head and held them there, his steady, unbreakable heartbeat lulling me into the first real, dreamless sleep I'd had in three long years.

Morning arrived through bedroom curtains I'd never woken up behind before. The light came in soft and gold, spilling across the dark hardwood in wide, warm stripes. I was hovering in that delicious, half-asleep twilight against Ralph's bare chest, his arm still heavy around my waist, his breathing deep and perfectly even.

The sheets smelled like us—like sweat, rain, and a clean warmth that only exists after a storm has passed. I was currently deciding that I never needed to leave this bed again when a door violently banged open at the far end of the hallway.

Footsteps. Fast. The unmistakable, aggressive click-click-click of high heels on hardwood.

Before I could even process the sound, the bedroom door swung wide on its hinges.

A woman stood dead in the frame. Keys clutched in one hand, her phone in the other, her dark hair tossed up in a messy bun. Her face cycled through shock, horror, and absolute, wicked delight in a sequence so rapid it was like watching a film reel glitch.

Athena Brandt.

I yanked the comforter up to my chin so fast I nearly gave myself whiplash.

Ralph sat up slowly, unbothered by his own bare chest, and gave his sister a flat, weary look he'd clearly perfected over years of her barging in exactly like this.

"There's a beautiful modern invention called knocking, Athena," he said, his voice deep with sleep.

"There's a beautiful modern invention called locking your front door, Brandt," she shot back, her eyes sparkling.

"Well," she said, leaning her shoulder against the doorframe and crossing her arms with an air of supreme satisfaction. "At least the pink suitcase mystery is finally solved."

CHAPTER 19

Emma

"He used to practice his gold medal speech in the bathroom mirror. Covered in foam and all."

I nearly inhaled my morning coffee.

Athena was perched across from me at Ralph's sleek marble kitchen island, her legs folded underneath her like a tiny, chaotic Buddha on the leather barstool.

She was wrapping both hands around her giant mug, wearing an expression of such pure sisterly glee that it was clear she had been waiting a literal lifetime for an audience worthy of her blackmail archive.

"He was nineteen," she continued, ignoring the muffled, wheezing choking sounds I was making into my sleeve. "I used to sit out in the hallway with my back against the linen closet and just drink it in. He'd do the whole bit, Emma. The humble, breathless wave to the imaginary cameras. The choked-up thank-you-to-my-sacrificing-family. He even had a dedicated three-minute section about his coach that he rehearsed with aggressive hand gestures."

"Hand gestures," I wheezed, my chest heaving.

"Full, dramatic choreography. Like a highly emotional TED Talk in speedos."

I was crying. Actual, hot tears were streaming down my face, my ribs aching from the kind of deep, violent laughter I hadn't produced in three years. "Athena, stop. I'm begging you, my lungs are collapsing."

The heavy click of the door echoed down the hall, and Ralph walked into the kitchen. His damp, golden-blonde hair was pushed back from his forehead, and he was wearing a clean black T-shirt that stretched violently across his chest, paired with gray sweatpants. But it was his face that caught me off guard. Framed by a pair of matte-black, square-rimmed reading glasses I'd seen him wear once before, he looked so utterly, devastatingly hot it made my throat instantly dry.

The second his eyes landed on our conspiratorial huddle, the stoicism on his face cracked straight down the middle. He ripped the glasses off, his ears turning a magnificent shade of crimson.

"Whatever she's telling you," he said, pointing a long, warning finger at his sister, "is actionable defamation of my character."