He waggled his eyebrows. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
“Oh god. Stop. Stop right now.” I gagged and pushed the image away before it solidified in my head.
His face got serious. “Devon, we really have to go. You’re only prolonging the inevitable, and Ceci made it real clear my ass was due home with a quickness.”
I scowled and looked at the sun rising on the horizon. I didn’t want serious. Serious made me think, and thinking wasn’t helpful. Especially for me. So I took a breath and focused on the deep oranges and pinks pricking at the dark blue sky above.
Rick got out after a minute, rounding the front of the SUV to stand beside me. I leaned in, and his hug was sturdy and comforting, just like him. He was the best man I’d ever known; my own husband never hurdled the bar Rick set. No man ever would, because there was no one like my brother. I cleared my throat to loosen the emotions that clogged it. “I still can’t believe Gigi did this, you know?”
“I can,” he answered. “The whole time you were gone, she wanted you home.”
“But forcing me back like this…”
He didn’t speak.
Defeated, I bent to grab my backpack and small suitcase and nudged the larger suitcase toward Rick. “Let’s go.”
Rick shut the SUV. “Is that everything?”
I nodded.
I didn’t plan on a nomadic life. I’d done the basics: fallen in love with Jason, a sweet boy who loved me back, knew I wouldn’t find anyone better, and married him right out of college. We road-tripped in the Highlander during my summers off from teaching school to reach my goal of visiting all 50 states by the time I was 40.
Then he went on shift after a stupid argument. The middle school caught fire and Jason returned to the building for an unaccounted-for teacher. I could still smell the smoke on Chief Suarez as he held me while I screamed at him.
Despite everyone’s pleas to stay and process my grief, I upended my life after the funeral, put everything in storage and headed for the East Coast. As far as I was concerned, there was nothing to process: my husband was dead. I’d lost my parents, and now my husband. Staying in one place and opening my heart only brought heartache. So I started over, vowing to never depend on anybody ever again. For five years, I’d done it, moving from gig to gig, never settling down with anyone or anything.
I shut the passenger door. “We’re eating a real breakfast before we hit the road.” I crossed my arms.
My patient brother didn’t flinch. “Sounds good.”
Once there, we ordered stacks of blueberry pancakes, scrambled eggs, and an unholy amount of bacon to go with the coffee I sucked down like my life depended on it. We’d head straight home to the twins, without delay, per my now-boring brother. And if I so happened to need a pee break at the exact exit where an awesome installation of, say, yarn art stood, then I guess we’d just have to stop. I was getting my adventure in whether Rick liked it or not.
“You know, despite the way this is going down, I’m glad you’re coming home,” Rick said.
Not by choice. Gigi’s will mandated I physically live in it for at least six months to keep it and fix it back up, or it went to the local historical society. The very society helmed by her decades-long arch-nemesis. Gigi would flat-out haunt me from the beyond if I allowed that woman to get her grubby hands on the house, and honestly? I’d haunt me, too.
It never occurred to me that it wouldn’t stay with us, but I’d assumed that Rick would be the one to get it. He was the one who lived in town. He was the one with a family.
“Well, when my time is up and the house is officially in my name, I’m handing it straight over to you. You can do whatever you want after that.” I shoved a bite of syrup-drenched pancake in my mouth and chewed. “As long as it stays in the family.”
He polished off his bacon and shrugged. “We’ll see. Gotta say, I didn’t know the house meant so much to you.”
My mouth dropped open. “Seriously? Rick, the house was my sanctuary after our parents died. Our whole lives are in that house. Every bit of sunshine and rain. Think of all the stories she told us as she tucked us in. How she taught us to cook, and how we nearly burned our eyebrows off trying to imitate Iron Chef. Epic hide and seeks. Remember when I scared you and your friends so much you ran next door because you thought a ghost was in the house?” I grinned, happy to see the scowl it earned me. “All those school dances and first kisses.” And first other things, too. “We can’t let that go.”
He leaned back in the booth and appraised me. “Huh.”
“What?” I took a sip of coffee.
“It’s nice to see you so riled up. I’ve missed it.”
I scoffed. “You’ve missed seeing me pissed off?”
He nodded, a grin tugging at his lips. “Absolutely.”
I rolled my eyes.
“You should stay. Beyond the required six months, I mean. The twins would love it. You know Ceci would love it. And I miss my little sister.”
“You just want free babysitting.”
He smiled. “I wouldn’t hate it.” He pointed a fork at me. “But I really miss having you around.”
I looked away. “You’ll be sick of me by the time the six months are up.”
“Never.”
I slid out of the booth, needing to break the seriousness, and he signaled for the bill.
In the restroom, I washed my hands and used the water to tame my dirty blonde hair, pulling it into a loose top bun.
Ten minutes later, we were pointed east. Rick took first shift and I looked at the flat road ahead of us, already squiggly with heat, the bright blue of the sky an exclamation point on the beauty of the surrounding canyons.
We stayed quiet. It was one of my favorite things about Rick: we could go for hours without a word between us, both of us perfectly content. I’d call him from the road or whatever town I’d landed in for a bit, and we’d throw our phones on speaker and just…be. He’d always known what I needed, and he’d never failed at giving it to me.
Too bad he couldn’t wave a magic wand and keep me from having to go home and face the past.
