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“Surprise,” Logan replies sheepishly.
Joel shoots him a look for that, then sighs. “You should’ve called.”
The living room looks different. New color on the walls, different furniture. Family pictures hanging around that don’t include me. Not that I’m surprised.
Salem clears her throat. “Sorry, we should’ve given you a heads up.”
“It’s fine,” Sarah says quickly. “Of course it’s fine. You’re all welcome.”
Her eyes keep flicking back to me, and I can’t tell if she’s worried that I'm here or worried that I might leave.
Joel gestures toward the dining room. “Dinner’s almost ready.”
Nobody moves.
The silence stretches uncomfortably until the sound of loud laughter echoes down the hallway. My stomach drops when three boys come barreling around the corner like a small stampede, socked feet sliding across the hardwood: identical faces, identical messy brown hair. I haven’t even seen them since they were babies.
The triplets skid to a stop when they see us.
“Logan!” one of them shouts.
Another crashes into his side. “You’re late!”
“Mom said you might not make it,” the third adds accusingly.
They start tugging at his sleeves, talking over each other about video games and snowball fights. I watch them swarm him, their older brother. The only one they think they have.
A set of eyes finally notices Salem and me lingering near the doorway. “Who’re they?”
Sarah inhales sharply. I can feel it before she speaks, the rejection coming. Briefly, I wonder what she’ll tell them—long lost uncle, maybe, or Logan’s friend. Hell, maybe I’m Salem’s friend. Anything other than the truth, which is—
“Salem is Logan’s wife,” she says quietly. “And Devon is your older brother.”
Shock ripples through my system and the room spins. I have to grab onto the wall to keep from stumbling.
All three boys blink at her.
“… Like, older than Logan?” one of them asks slowly. I hate that I can’t tell who is who.
“Yes,” she replies. “He’s my firstborn.”
Their gazes snap back to me in unison.
“So you’re old,” another one says, making Salem snort. “Do you play video games?”
“Sometimes,” I rasp, still in a complete stupor.
“Do you like football?”
Logan watches from the doorway, eyes wide and warm. Joel looks as stunned as I am.
But Sarah doesn’t back down. She steps closer and places a hand on my arm. “He’s been gone a long time, but he’s home now.”
Home now.
Those words settle into my chest, ripping it wide open.
One of the boys shuffles forward to peer up at me. “Why didn’t we ever know about you?”
