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The driveway is long and winding before opening into a huge valley, the mountains in the distance jut into the sky like a jagged fortress wall. The tree covered hills converge onto a grassy valley and in the middle of it all is a huge three-story farmhouse complete with wrap around veranda and vintage shutters. Jet’s going to get a boner working on this place. My brother loves detail work and he’s always loved the Marchand house.
Me? I loved the girl who lived there. Before she carved out my heart and took off to Vancouver without warning—leaving me and everything else in Raston behind her. The sting of her last words still singe in my skin.
I park my truck next to a vintage motorhome thinking it must be what Lucas is downsizing to. Retiring and becoming a full time RVer didn’t really fit the burly cop but whatever. I’ll be happy to have the last of her memories gone.
The breeze funnels through the valley, bringing with it a cool glacial air that contrasts the burning heat of the noon sun. Voices carry along the breeze and my skin prickles with recognition. Jet’s using the tone of voice he uses with our youngest brother Zeke when he’s doing something reckless or stupid, or usually both.
“Let’s be reasonable, okay?” Jet says, his voice getting louder as I move around the side of the house. My heart thunders and I’m not sure why, and that’s when I hear it.
“I’ll chain myself to the fucking door. You’re not taking down this greenhouse.” Her voice whips around me like a tornado and the thunder in my heart goes dead silent. I hold my breath, stepping around the house to see her.
I blink a few times to be sure but there she is. Small and feisty and as beautiful as the last time I saw her. There’s a hardness to her stare I don’t recognize, but it’s been ten years. A decade since I saw her last.
Her gaze flickers over to me and immediately the color drains from her face. Her fear settles in my gut and shame washes through me hard enough to physically hurt. My stomach twists up as all my good happy memories make way for all the skin shredding anger of our last conversation.
“Xan?” she says and my name across her lips is a shock to my system.
“Briggs?” I stumble over the word having not spoken it aloud in so long.
“You really need to start checking your phone,” Jet cuts in, his arms folded against his broad chest. “I tried to warn you. Briggs is home and she’s as bullheaded as she’s ever been.”
Briggs glares at Jet still standing in front of her mother’s greenhouse. Her eyes keep flickering back to her treehouse and I can see the panic in every tense bit of her. My breathing returns to normal and slowly I pack up all my shock and shame and fear around Briggs and shove it down so I can think. I need to be able to think.
“You’re not taking down this greenhouse. It was hers.” Briggs snaps but the conviction in her voice falters.
Jet throws up his arms in frustration. “Fine. You take that up with your dad. I’m adding it into my quote though.”
He points at Briggs and they lock into a battle, something that used to amuse me. The two most stubborn people I’d ever known.
A shadow catches my attention and it belongs to a young girl running barefoot through the grass her face shadowed by a low baseball hat, long pigtail braids hung down over a loose t-shirt.
Briggs’ face pales further as the girl crashes into her and throws skinny arms around Briggs’ waist.
“What’s wrong, Mom?” the young girl says to Briggs and Jet pauses with his hands in his hair, looking at me then the girl. It takes my brain a moment to realize the girl called Briggs Mom.
Everyone is staring at me. Why is everyone staring at me?
“Nothing, sweetheart. Everything is fine.” Briggs hugs the girl to her side, her eyes burning with visible fear.
“Who are you?” the girl asks my brother and me and I finally focus on her. She’s maybe nine or ten years old, with the same big gray eyes as my sister Del, the same pointed lips as Briggs, the same high cheekbones as Pris...the same deep brown hair as me. Memories hit me from all sides.
“It’s already done. It’s taken care of.” Amalie stabbed me in the chest with her finger. “Leave her alone.”
Why do I feel like I’m going to pass out? No matter how hard I try I can’t get air in my lungs.
I glance over at my brother who looks as shocked as I feel.
“You know you’re not ready. How could you of all people be a good father?” She spewed hatred with each word.
Why does this little girl look like me? Ten years since I saw Briggs. Ten years old.
“It’s not your decision, Alexander. It wouldn’t have mattered what you thought. It wouldn’t have changed her mind.” Amalie took me in like I didn’t matter, like I never mattered.
Holy fucking shit.
“If you really love her, you’ll walk away. You’ve already destroyed my family enough. Do the right thing and let her go.”
She lied to me...
