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Mike shrugged. “Good.”
“Good.” Adam nodded, not bothering to push for more.
Unlike Jimmy, who spread his arms out wide. “You’re practically the prom king of this shindig, and you’re not enjoying it? Not even a little bit?”
Jimmy was the definition of the baby of the family, a spoiled rotten attention-seeker.
Mike ignored him and pointed to Emma, in his brother’s arm, her tiny head covered in wisps of curly hair. “Mind if I…?”
Adam didn’t hesitate to pass her off, and he waited patiently for Mike to get her settled in his arms before he sat back down. The baby whimpered and crinkled her little nose, kicking her legs before nestling back into his crook of Mike’s elbow, but she never even opened her eyes. He found himself wishing she would. He loved those big brown eyes of hers.
He hadn’t been around when Maggie was born, but he was there to hold Emma in the hospital. When everything in his life felt like it had crumbled to ash around him, she was one bright spot. She was so tiny and delicate, he’d been afraid to hold her, but with some practice, he’d come to love holding the little girl. Good thing too, since Adam and his wife, Lauren, named him her godfather and the baptism was a few weeks away.
“Where’s your other half?” Mike asked his older brother, looking around.
Adam pointed over Mike’s shoulder, and he turned to spy Lauren and Maggie, his energetic four-year-old niece, playing with a border collie. Mike jerked his chin in their direction. “Whose dog is that?”
“That’s the Kohlers’ dog,” Jimmy said, waving at someone.
Mike followed his brother’s line of vision to a woman standing opposite Maggie and Lauren, and he squinted. She looked familiar, in denim shorts, the kind with the pockets hanging out of the bottoms as if she’d cut them herself, with golden tanned legs and brightly colored hair. He couldn’t remember anyone in the neighborhood who—
“Is that…?”
“Sam,” Jimmy supplied.
Mike sat up to get a better look. “Sam? As in Samantha Kohler?”
The woman in question clapped and laughed then crouched to pet the dog before taking a tennis ball from its mouth and tossing it. The dog jogged after it, but Mike couldn’t tear his gaze away from Samantha as she stood up.
“You want to wipe that drool off your face there, Mikey.” Jimmy nudged him with an elbow.
Mike immediately slanted his eyes away from her, ignoring his brother’s laughter. Last he remembered of Samantha Kohler, she was a young girl with braces, running around with Jimmy. Now, she was a woman.
Mike had been away for so long, he’d missed so much. He had changed, those around him had changed, and even though he’d adjusted to his new life over the last year, it was still jarring to find new pieces to fit into the puzzle.
“Look at my boys! All together again!”
Mike jerked his attention to his mother and amateur photographer.
“Stay like that! Exactly like that!”
She pulled out her DSLR and snapped away. She was forever taking pictures. They had dozens of photo albums filled with documentation of every important and inane thing that happened in their lives, but since Mike had come home, it was as if she was on special assignment to make up for every birthday, Christmas, and Thursday she didn’t get to capture with her middle son.
“Come on, Mom.” Adam waved her off. “We’re trying to relax here.”
“And it’s perfect. A candid moment.” She pulled the camera away from her face long enough to admire the three men in front of her before hiding behind it again for a few more clicks. When she finally put it down, she walked around the table, ruffling Jimmy’s hair, then reached for Emma. “The food’s ready. Mikey, are you hungry? I can make you a plate.”
“No, thanks,” he said, standing up. Even after all this time, she still coddled him. People often treated him on opposite ends of a spectrum. They either stayed completely away from the subject of his injury in the most awkward way possible, or they overcompensated and wanted to do everything for him.
Although, his mother would baby him no matter what. She was happiest when she could dote on all three of her adult sons. Jimmy lapped it up. “I’ll take a plate.”
Mike knocked his brother upside the head as their mother rolled her eyes.
Making his way to the table covered in platters of food, he noted Samantha there already, grabbing a few carrot sticks. He picked up a paper plate and helped himself to some chips and macaroni salad.
“Hey,” he said, and she lifted her eyes as if only just now noticing him, although she’d definitely watched him approaching the table. She apparently wasn’t great at hiding her observations.
“Hey, Michael,” she said then cringed. She scratched at the side of her nose with the tip of one finger, where a silver ring crisscrossed up to her knuckle, and cleared her throat. “H-how are you?”
