I open the sliding door of the van and step down, then turn back, noticing I’m at eye level with Remi’s boobs.
It’s not at all a horrible place to be.
She bends down and takes my face in her hands, planting one hell of a kiss on me that makes my head spin.
“What was that for?”
“Just something to think about until Saturday,” she says with a grin. “Drive safely home, okay?”
I nod but don’t walk away.
“You’re still here.”
“I’m waiting for you to lock up.”
She tips her head to the side, studying me in the moonlight. “You’re a chivalrous guy, aren’t you?”
“I have manners,” I reply honestly. “If that’s chivalry, then I guess so.”
“I like it,” she decides. “Have a good night.”
She pulls the door shut, and I hear her rattling around, pulling the seatbelts through the doors, I assume. After a few moments, the van goes silent.
She’s likely back in bed.
It’s true that I have to be up early to help out at the ranch. I could have just gotten up early here and driven out at the butt crack of dawn, though.
But if I stayed, it would have been way too hard to keep my hands to myself. And I’ll be damned if I’ll lose the bet after only twenty-four hours.
Saturday is a different story. I might be willing to beg by then and fuck the bet.
The drive home is uneventful, given the time of night. When I get inside the house, I crash on the bed, clothes and all.
I need to take advantage of the next four hours of sleep.
“Why can’t I live with you?” Troy, my youngest brother says as I open boxes of pizza and pull out paper plates. All three of my sibs, Josh’s kids—Kim and Mike—and even Layla, Ty and Lauren’s daughter, are here.
Ty and Lauren have been my parents’ friends for as long as I can remember, and Layla is the same age as the twins. She’s practically another sister.
“Because you have a house to live in,” I remind Troy as I dish up some pepperoni and slide it to him. “With Mom and Dad.”
“They’re no fun,” Troy says and frowns down at his pizza, then shrugs and stuffs half of it into his mouth. “They won’t even let me ride the snowmobiles by myself.”
“It’s September,” I remind him blandly. “There’s no snow to ride on yet.”
“Well, even when there is, they won’t let me. They said so. I’m almost thirteen. I know you were riding by yourself by then.”
“Not alone,” I reply. “I had to take someone with me.”
“So dumb,” he mutters.
I glance into the living room and see the five older teens in a deep discussion about something, if the look on Sarah’s face is any clue.
“You need to just ask him,” Layla says, trying to keep her voice hushed. “He’ll tell you. Seth doesn’t keep secrets.”
“Ask me what?” I ask and walk in to join them. I set a box of pizza on the coffee table. “What’s going on?”
“It’s nothing,” Sarah says quickly and gives Layla a dirty look.
“Doesn’t look like nothing,” I reply.
Miles won’t look up at me. Even Mike is quiet, and he’s never quiet.
“Okay, you’re all creeping me out,” I declare and look at each of them. “Someone tell me what’s going on.”
“You’re not our brother,” Miles says, and I can hear tears in his voice. They’re shining in his eyes as he finally stares up at me.
“Given that I held you mere minutes after you were born and named Sarah myself, I can guarantee you that I am, in fact, your brother.”
But a knot has set up residence in my stomach.
“Not by blood,” Sarah says, and her lip quivers. “You’re not our real brother.”
Six pairs of eyes turn to me, wide and full of questions.
“Where are you getting this information?” I ask in confusion.
“I have to do a family tree for school,” Sarah says. “And when I was doing it, I found out that you’re not my brother.”
“Okay, let’s settle this right here. Right now. I am your real brother. Dad is my biological dad.”
“But Mom isn’t,” Miles adds.
“She didn’t give birth to me, no,” I confirm. I want to deny it all and tell them that whatever source Sarah used is wrong. I don’t want to tell them about the shitty mother who birthed me, or the horrible way I ended up living at the ranch.
But I don’t lie to these guys. Not ever. I want to be a person they can trust and feel safe with, so lying about this isn’t an option either.
I rub my hand down my face and sit on the edge of a couch cushion. I sigh, brace my elbows on my knees, and look them all in the eyes.
“Our mom, Jillian, didn’t give birth to me,” I begin slowly. I cringe when Sarah’s eyes fill with tears. “Dad married a girl just after high school. Her name was Kensie. And she was pregnant with me.”
I tell them as much as I can without going into the gory details of the abuse and neglect that I went through. They don’t need to hear it, and I don’t want to relive it.
“And, one day, she told me to pack my shit because she was going to bring me to Montana. She didn’t want to be saddled with me anymore because she wanted to have a life with her boyfriend. And I was ecstatic to come here, where I felt safe and loved. And when Dad got home from the Army, we figured things out between us. And then he married Mom and had all of you guys. We’re a family. I’m your brother.”
“Why didn’t anyone tell us before?” Miles asks. “This is kind of a big deal.”
“It’s not really something I think about often,” I reply. “I haven’t been in contact with Kensie since I was about twelve. Mom punched her in the face and told her to stay the hell away from me.”
“Holy crap,” Mike whispers with a proud smile. “Go Aunt Jilly.”
“She died,” Sarah announces, surprising me. “Kensie did. I did some searching.”
I sit back and stare at my sister, not sure how I feel about the news.
“When?” I ask.
“About six years ago,” she replies. “I didn’t dig too deep, but there was an article about an investigation. Sounds like she was murdered. I’m sorry, Seth.”
“You don’t have anything to be sorry about.”
“Your biological mother was murdered,” she says with all of the drama of a seventeen-year-old girl. “Of course, you’re upset.”
I smile softly. “I don’t know what I am. Not surprised, really. She lived a hard life, and I’m just thankful that I didn’t end up tied to her. I’m here with you, where I belong. Jillian saved me, you guys. She showed me what being a good mother is all about, and she loves me as if she did give birth to me herself. In her mind, she doesn’t see me any differently than she sees you, and that’s not always the case.”
I think of Remi, and the opposite experience she had, and my heart aches for her.
“So, that’s why it was never brought up. Because we’re a family, and we just all moved forward.”
“Did that Kensie lady do bad things to you?” Troy asks. He’s always been the most perceptive of the group.
“Sometimes,” I reply, and he launches himself into my arms, holding me tightly. He tries so hard, every day, to act so grown up, but then there are moments, like right now, when he’s still very much a kid. “I’m okay, bud.”
“I want to hurt her back,” Troy says against my shoulder. “She shouldn’t have gotten away with it.”
“She didn’t,” Layla says, always the philosopher. “She was murdered. Mama always says, ‘What goes around comes around.’”
“Karma,” Mike agrees. “She got hers in the end.”
“I think this party has taken a far more serious turn than anticipated,” I say as Troy sits next to me, keeping his head on my shoulder. “Are we okay?”
“Yeah, but I want to ask Dad about it,” Sarah says. “I know, you’re go
ing to call me stubborn. But I have questions.”
“I don’t think it’s wrong to ask questions. He’ll probably be uncomfortable at first, but he’ll be honest.”
“I’ll lead with a question about my period or sex, and then he won’t be nearly as uncomfortable.” Sarah’s smile is just a little evil, and it makes us all laugh. “I think it’ll make Mom cry if I ask her.”
“Mom always cries,” Troy says with a smirk. “She’s such a girl.”
“She cries because her youngest child is so ugly,” Miles says to his younger brother. And just like that, everything is right in the world again. The boys bicker, the girls giggle, and I know that, in a little while, I’ll be up with my laptop, doing some digging.
We eat pizza, play some video games, and then Sarah dims the lights as they put the original Friday the 13th on the TV.
Kim keeps a pillow in her grasp so she can cover her face when it gets too intense.
Troy does the same with a blanket.
They all make me smile.
While they’re engrossed in the movie, I sit at the dining room table and open my computer, running a search for Kensie King.
It doesn’t take long for the information to come up. She’d been arrested a few times, and with each mug shot, she progressively looked worse and worse. Drugs were the charges the majority of the time, but there were two charges for solicitation.
My mother was a whore.
I shake my head and open the article about her death.
Albuquerque, N.M. – A woman identified as Kensie King was found in a vehicle in the Third Street parking structure by a building employee Monday morning. Authorities listed the cause of death as a gunshot wound to the head. Based on evidence at the scene, suicide has been ruled out, and the case is under investigation.
I frown and open another article dated four months later.
Albuquerque, N.M. – The investigation continues regarding the murder of a woman found dead in a vehicle in the Third Street parking structure this past spring. Authorities confirm they have arrested and charged Cole M. Linton with the murder of Kensie King. His trial begins next month.
I end up spiraling down a rabbit hole, searching through articles about Cole—he was such an asshole—and discover that he was found guilty one year to the day after he killed Kensie. He’s currently serving a life sentence in New Mexico.
“Do we have popcorn?”
I blink and look up to see Kim’s pretty blue eyes staring down at me.
“Huh?”
“Popcorn,” she repeats. “We want some.”
“Oh, yeah. We can pop some. Go back to your movie. I’ll do it.”
She pats my shoulder. “I’ve got it. I know where the stuff is.”
I look around and realize that they’ve paused the movie for a bathroom and snack break.
Knowing all I need to know for now, I close the computer and help Kim make the popcorn, then settle in with the kids to watch the last part of the movie. This, right here, is what matters. I’ve known that since I was twelve.
I set my past aside and settle in to enjoy the rest of my night with these young people, who are growing up too fast. Before long, the oldest kids will be off to college, and it’ll just be Troy and me.
I glance over at my youngest brother, just in time to see him steal a handful of popcorn out of Sarah’s bowl.
He has his own, he just wants to harass her.
And I’m grateful that, at his age, he’s been protected and loved. He’s never seen the kind of shit that I did at his age.
He’s a kid.
Just as it should be.
“Is everyone ready to start it back up?” Mike asks.
“Let’s do it,” Miles says and tosses a kernel of popcorn into the air, catching it in his teeth. “Let’s see some dumb kids get hacked to death.”
“Don’t tell your parents I let you watch this,” I warn them. “They’ll skin me alive.”
“What happens at Seth’s, stays at Seth’s,” Layla says with a laugh. “It’s like Vegas.”
“Can we have strippers?” Miles asks with excitement.
“Hell, no.” I ruffle his hair. “You may not.”
Half of the kids are asleep by the time the movie ends. The other three yawn and stretch, then turn over and sleep where they are when I turn off the TV. I grab empty popcorn bowls, take them to the kitchen, then quietly walk back to my bedroom.
My phone’s been on the charger all evening. When I check it, I smile when I see a text from Remi.
Remi: I hope your day was better today.
That’s all. That’s the text.
I sit on the edge of the bed and think about how to reply. I wish she had been here tonight. I think she’d get a kick out of the kids.
Me: It was much better. Tomorrow will be awesome because I have a date with you.
I set the phone aside but it starts to ring.
“I thought you’d be asleep,” I answer.
“You just caught me,” Remi says with a sexy, sleepy voice. “Also, I could say the same for you.”
“I’m hosting a sleepover with six teenagers,” I inform her and fill her in on my guests.
“That’s a lot of hormones in your house,” she says with a laugh.
“Oh, yeah. But they’re fun. How was your day?”
“Good,” she says and then yawns. “I hiked a bit. Don’t worry, it was nothing crazy.”
“Who says I was worried?”
“I could hear your frown through the phone.”
I grin. “You can tell me all about it during our date tomorrow.”
“Okay. I hope you sleep well.”
“You, too. Goodnight, Remi.”
“’Night.”
Chapter 8
~Remi~
I haven’t worn makeup in months. I don’t even remember the last time I put on a full face of it and wonder if I forgot how. I stare at myself in the little mirror above my tiny sink and narrow my eyes. Four months? Five?
Either way, it’s been a while. But I’m doing it tonight. Because it’s also been a long time since I last went on a date, and even though I’m usually the type of girl in jeans and a T-shirt, I can be a girly girl, too.
Sometimes.
When the mood strikes.
And it struck today.
My hair is half up in a little braid, off my face, hanging loose around my shoulders. I might still be wearing jeans, but they’re not torn or even frayed anywhere. And I’m in a nice, crisp white button-down top with a pretty rust-colored scarf.
With the last few flicks of the mascara wand, I survey my handiwork and decide that it’s not too shabby.
“Good job, Rem,” I mutter and return the mascara to my little, sparsely populated makeup bag, stowing it under the bed where it belongs.
I glance at the time and nod in satisfaction.
Seth should be here in less than ten minutes.
My phone rings, startling me, and I’m surprised to see that it’s my mom.
Worried that someone is hurt—or dead—I answer immediately.
“Hello?”
“Hi, honey. How are you?”
She sounds too calm for someone to be seriously hurt, so my shoulders drop in relief.
“I’m fine, thanks. I’m in Montana for a while.”
“Oh, how nice. Are you still adventuring, then?”
“Always. How are you guys?”
“There’s not much going on here. Lilith and Britney are doing well in school. Lots of cheerleading going on around here.”
“I’m sure.”
“Anyway, I just wanted to wish you a happy birthday.”
I scowl, pull my phone away from my ear, and stare at it.
“It’s not my birthday.”
“Of course, it is.”
“Mom, my birthday is October twenty-eighth. Today is September twenty-ninth.”
There’s a pause on the other end. “Oh. Then who—? Oh, yes. That’s right, I always confuse
your birthday with your grandfather’s. I guess I’d better call him, then.”
“How?” I ask without thinking.
“What’s that?”
“How, exactly, do you confuse your own child’s birthday with someone else’s?”
“Remi, there’s no need to be dramatic—”
“Right. Of course. I’m the dramatic one. As always. Have a good evening, Mom. You’d better call Grandpa. And don’t bother calling me on my actual birthday—if you remember at all. We’ll consider this your obligatory call.”
I hang up and let out a gusty breath. I should know her by now. I know that she’s just not good at things when it comes to me. She’s on top of it for her husband, for her other kids, but when it comes to me, I’m just an afterthought. She probably goes to my sister’s games to watch them cheer every single time.
I played basketball. She wrote a check for the fees and dismissed me. She didn’t even come to watch when we went to state, and that was a big deal.
I close my eyes, shake my head, and make myself loosen my shoulders, blowing out a gusty breath.
“Don’t let her ruin your evening. She’s already forgotten the whole thing.”
There’s a knock, so I rub my lips together and then open the van’s sliding door, feeling a grin spread clear across my face.
Seth is also in jeans and a long-sleeved shirt, the color of ripe cranberries. His dark hair is still damp from a shower, and his ridiculously handsome face is clean-shaven.
I want to get my hands on him.
I want to sink my teeth into him.
“You’re stunning,” he says at last and shyly holds out a small bouquet of sunflowers for me. “I didn’t steal these, by the way.”
“Good to know.” I smile down at the happy blooms, then turn away to quickly put them in a pitcher of water. With my wallet and keys tucked inside a small handbag, I step outside with Seth and pull the van’s door closed, then make sure it’s locked. “You look great, too. We look like we could pose for a fall spread in a magazine.”
He looks down at both of us and then snickers. “You definitely do. But I’m no fashion model.”
He’s wrong. He’s gorgeous. Better-looking than half of the people in LA, trying to hit it big.
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