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After taking a quick shower, he grabbed his keys and headed out. Since she only lived a few blocks away, Seb opted to walk and not drive. In Los Angeles, he’d had to drive everywhere he went. Part of the charm of living in Whisper Lake was that so many things were within walking distance.
He was turning onto his mom’s street when he looked up and saw a familiar face leaving his mother’s house. Michael Dawes, Kennedy’s dad. Not wanting a confrontation, he waited at the corner for him to climb into his car and leave before heading up his mom’s front walkway.
Before he even got a chance to knock, the door opened. His mom pulled him in for a hug and when he walked in, he was impressed at just how homey the space was. When he’d seen it the day Kennedy had shown it to her, he’d thought it had good bones, but that it felt cold and sterile. But she’d added a lot of plants, and natural wood elements that really created a very cozy atmosphere.
“Your brother is upset,” she said as she closed the door.
“So I’ve heard.”
“Can you talk to him?”
“Do you actually think Ford will listen to me?”
“Yes. I do,” she stated firmly.
“I think you’re overestimating my influence on him.”
His mom just stared at him, giving him the look that told him she didn’t agree with his statement. “He will listen to you. You each have your strengths, and Ford knows yours.”
“What? That I can draw?” Did she want him to paint his brother a picture?
“No.” She shook her head. “I mean, yes, you can draw. You’ve always been very artistic. But I’m talking about your emotional intelligence.”
“My emotional intelligence?” Seb repeated.
“Yes. Ford is the strong, steady protector. Knox is the charismatic genius. Keaton is the sensitive athlete. And you are the artistic, emotionally intelligent one.”
This was the first Seb was hearing about this.
“You got it from your father. He was so empathetic and could read people even if they weren’t being honest with themselves.”
He had?
Seb’s grandpa always used to tell him that he reminded him of his dad, but he’d just assumed he meant in appearance. His mom and Ford sometimes told stories about his dad, but Seb had never heard anything about him being able to read people.
Hearing that he could have inherited that trait honestly, gotten it from his DNA, made Seb feel connected to a man that he’d never really known or felt a bond with.
“Talk to him before the party tonight, because I’m bringing Michael,” his mom instructed.
“No,” he told his mom.
Her brow lifted. “No, you won’t talk to your brother?”
“No, you can’t bring Michael tonight.”
“Listen, Ford is going to have to—”
“I don’t care about Ford. I don’t want Michael there because Kennedy—”
“Kennedy knows he’s coming,” his mom stated matter-of-factly. “She’s fine with it.”
“She is?” he questioned.
“Yeah.” She nodded.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure.” His mom picked up the picture. “Now, can you help me find a place for this? I’m thinking above the couch.”
