Page 83 of Sterling Fight

“That’s not what I asked,” Stone clarifies.

I lower my head, not wanting to answer, not wanting to disappoint my brother.

“I know you’ve always felt like you are outside the family, but you are part of us. I love you, Judd.”

Suddenly, my throat is thick, and my eyes are flooding. Three simple words. So difficult to say. And yet, for all Stone has been through, he says them so easily, with so much emphasis. Love is the only reason he would have come back for everyone else. To take care of everyone. To try to keep us together.

“I know,” I whisper. “Love you, too.” My voice is thick, the words clunky on my tongue. This is where I feel weakest. I don’t say the words with the strength they deserve.

Suddenly, Stone is cupping the back of my neck and squeezing. “You ever get to that moment you can forgive him, I promise it will feel so freeing,” he says close to me. “And when you can accept that love is more powerful than hate, an entire world of possibility will open up for you.”

Genie. Her whispered name in my head is the possibility I want. Yet earlier, she reminded me she’s scheduled to leave tomorrow. I hadn’t forgotten but I also hadn’t let the countdown weigh on me. I’ve been too engrossed in enjoying the time we have.

I nod, acknowledging what Stone has said, although I’m not certain forgiveness is part of my vocabulary.

“I’m gonna step upstairs a second,” I say, needing another minute for a new reason. I need to get my head back into this day.

Genie is scheduled to leave tomorrow night, which means I don’t have much time left with her.

“Are you okay?” Genie asks, stepping into my childhood bedroom and closing the door behind her. As I’ve been laying on the double bed in my old room, I realize I might have been up here a little too long.

“This used to be my room. The one I shared with Knox.” I continue to stare up at the ceiling. The space is entirely different from our old twin beds and posters on the wall. A dark navy-blue color covers one wall while the others are a sandy brown. The spread on the bed is a deep plaid, keeping the room masculine while void of any other personal affects.

“Each of us boys had a roommate. Stone and Clay. Me and Knox. Sebastian and Ford.” I chuckle recalling the antics of my younger brothers. “Ford and Sebastian never got along as kids. Funny how they married sisters.”

Genie only smiles when I glance over at her, but her eyes are aimed at the floor. “Has today been too difficult?” Slowly, she lifts her gaze. “My mother might be saucy, but she’s alive to be saucy.”

And my mother is gone.

“Which is all the more reason your mother should appreciate you, Genie. You’re smart and talented. Creative. You have a strong sense of what you want.” I’ve been doing some research on her company. “And you’re beautiful and kind.”

“Still, I’m sorry she behaved how she did. I’m sorry for all of it.”

“Don’t apologize for them. Please, nothing earlier was your fault.”

Forgiveness, Stone said. I’m not ready to forgive Genie’s mother or Heather or Tate. Resentment is a battle. Right now, it is winning.

I watch as Genie glances around the room as if looking for something.

“Ghosts in every corner,” I state, but then realize how wrong I am. This new, improved room is another reminder that this house has changed. My siblings’ opinions have changed, or at least Stone’s has. Love is also running a victory lap around many of my brothers.

Genie steps closer to the bed where I remain sprawled out like an angsty teen, having tossed myself down on the mattress. She lifts a knee to the edge of the bed but doesn’t sit.

I continue to ramble. “Flint and Violet. My parents’ names. Appropriate as he was hot under the collar and quick to spark. But my mother? She was soft and gentle. Sweet. God, she loved to laugh.” My brows crease. “Like you.”

Instantly, I envision my mother running her hand around my younger face, much like Mavis does to Dutton or Halle does to her son, Tim. And next, I see Genie doing the same thing to a little boy that looks like her. Large brown eyes, expressive and carefree. His laughter contagious. His smile wide.

Blinking, I shake the thought, reminded Genie is convinced she’ll never have children.

“There once was a woman named Violet,” she says softly, reaching for my hand. “Her favorite material was eyelet.”

My brows press together. What’s eyelet?

“She was sweet and kind. Miss her all the time.”

My eyes widen at the rhyme in Genie’s words. A strange rhythm to them.

“Now she’s a heavenly starlet.”