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“Hannah, can you please tell this man that I do not need him to pay for another suitcase?” I ask as soon as the call connects.

“No,” she says, way too quickly.

“But—”

“He earns millions a year just from his contract, let alone his sponsorships, which he has about a thousand of, so just stop it for now, okay?”

There’s no way, even if I get a job next week—fucking unlikely in New York City—that I’ll be able to pay any of them back.

“Sunny,” Hannah sighs in that caring way she does.

I obviously don’t remember the first time she did it, but as far as I can remember I’ve folded like a cheap lawn chair every time she’s used that tone on me.

“Fine.” I turn to Joe—Smitty. “Thank you.”

His smile is all the way back even as he hands the airline employee his credit card.

“You’re welcome.”

The shutdown happens the second I see Hannah.

Standing under the front porch light, one hand over her mouth and the other gently cupping a growing belly.

She’s pregnant, and probably over the three-month mark if the size of her bump is anything to go by.

My little sister is pregnant and I didn’t know.

I would’ve fallen on the driveway pavement of the beautiful mansion I didn’t know they’d moved into, but Barry uses his hockey reflexes to hold me up by the arms.

He was kind enough to pick me up from the airport, didn’t comment on my appearance, and after a quick hug, picked up my suitcases as easily as Smitty had.

Now he half carries me to the house.

I want nothing more than to crush my little sister in a hug, but I’m afraid neither of us would survive it.

“It’s okay, Sunny. You’re okay now.”

That’s all my nervous system needed apparently, because everything goes black.

1

TUCKER BARCLAY

May 22nd

Despair, heartache, grief, or just plain sadness.

I should be feeling all those things—my father did just die, supposedly—but I really don’t care. At least not about Jim, or about the fucking Turris, which is clearly what most of Eli’s mind is focused on.

All I want is to see Mason and Maddox with my own two eyes, hug them, make sure they’re safe and that their bitch of a mother didn’t hurt a single hair on their heads.

I might be overcompensating with the whole not caring thing because . . .

Well, it’s a sad fact when you’re kind of happy that your father died, isn’t it?

I never thought number five had it in her, though.

The truth of how everything happened is only bringing out a smidge of curiosity inside me right now, but I’m sure that’ll change after I’ve seen my brothers with my own eyes.