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Nearly three weeks after West hired a lawyer, I was sitting in my living room with him and the kids, playing a bloodthirsty game of Monopoly, when the doorbell rang. Since it was a little after seven p.m. and we weren’t expecting anyone, I frowned. “Were any of your siblings coming over and you forgot to tell me?”
“No way. Monopoly has caused more fights and resentments in my family than any other game, and we’re not allowed to play it together.”
“What, did people flip up the board and start a fight?”
West remained quiet, but Wyatt asked, “Did you, Dad?”
He sighed. “One time. But only because your Uncle Beck cheated.”
Avery sat up taller. “What did he do?”
The doorbell rang again. I waved for West to tell his kids the story and went to answer it. I looked through the peephole and stopped breathing.
No. No way. It can’t be him.
With shaky hands, I opened the door to reveal the tall, lean form of my brother—same dark hair and dark-brown eyes, but his skin was tanned a deeper brown than mine. “Rafe?”
He shifted his feet, looking awkward, before his gaze turned stubborn. “We need to talk.”
The command in his voice stirred my temper. “Why?”
If he noticed my tartness, he didn’t show it. “If you won’t talk with me, then I’ll cut off access to the money I gave you. I know you finally touched it and probably need it. Just see me this once, and I’ll never threaten you again.”
I clenched the door handle in my fingers hard enough that my bones ached a little. On the one hand, seeing my big brother in the flesh made the little girl I’d once been want to hug him and patch things up.
The grown woman, however, wasn’t about to just forgive and forget that easily. He’d abandoned me, and it still hurt.
My eyes prickled with tears, but I willed them away. I wouldn’t cry in front of my brother. I just wouldn’t.
I cleared my throat and raised my brows. “I think it depends on what you want to talk about.”
He ran a hand through his short hair, and I noticed the tattoos peeking out from his short-sleeved top. I’d seen a few pictures of my brother over the years, but it was hard to match this much older version of him with the teenager I’d adored.
Rafe finally answered, “Fine, if you want to do this on the porch, we will. And I’ll be blunt—my latest injury ended my soccer career, at least as a player. While I try to figure out what the hell I’m going to do next, I’m going to divide my time between England and one of my places here in Starry Hills. And, well, I figured I should let you know so I don’t shock you.”
“Wait, you can’t play soccer anymore?”
He glanced away. “No. My body finally gave out.”
I studied him and saw what he wasn’t saying—he was terrified of what came next. Even growing up, soccer had been his entire life. When he’d signed with a team in England, it had become not only his life but also his career.
And now? His dream had crashed down around him.
The kids laughed at something in the living room, and Rafe frowned. “Who’s that?”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “Why should I tell you?”
“I know you don’t have any kids, Emmy. I’m just curious.”
Rafe hadn’t been around during the years I’d gone by Millie. And hearing my childhood nickname on his lips, so familiar and right, only reinforced that I’d been hiding when I’d asked everyone to stop using it.
I sighed, stepped out onto the porch, and gestured toward the swing. “Let’s talk out here.”
After I shut the door, we both walked over to the porch swing, and I noticed Rafe’s pronounced limp. Which only made me feel awful for keeping him standing so long.
Once we settled down, Rafe’s legs were a lot longer than mine, and so he rocked us in silence.
Even as kids, Rafe had been the quieter one, so I knew I’d have to get the conversation rolling.
