He started grabbing things out of the fridge. Those impressive arms held containers of butter and jelly, plus cartons of milk and juice. He dumped it all in the middle of the table. “I actually gave you a list of reasons why number four was the right one.”
“Yeah, like ten of them.” She shifted the breakfast items around, opening jars and clicking off lids.
Since it looked like they were on the verge of a homemade family breakfast, Sophie picked up the coffee Leah poured, ready to make a quick exit. But a question nagged at her. “Isn’t it a good thing if we both pick the same ad?”
“You’d think.” Beck reached over Leah’s shoulder and put the heaping plate of toast right in front of Sophie.
She inhaled and her mouth watered a little. Something about the fresh scent of warm bread made her want to forget about the big kitchen search . . . and her addiction to carbs. Not that she could stomp on floorboards now anyway. Food or no, Beck and Leah would pick up on that right away.
“This is an informal ad study with you all as my test audience. It just so happens, you two and Declan said the same thing and somehow missed the awesomeness of number three.” Leah’s frown morphed into a wide smile when Beck set a plate of eggs in front of her. “Thank you.”
“Which is her charming way of saying she wanted number three,” he said before heading back to the counter.
Oh my God, was that bacon? Sophie had no idea how she’d missed that amazing smell, all crisp and salty, until right now. Now that it wafted around her, she had to fight the urge to snatch a strip off the edge of Leah’s plate.
Sophie tried to find a safe topic, one that didn’t revolve around stealing food. But, man, when bacon entered the picture it was hard to think about anything else. Especially when Leah left it unattended while she slipped a napkin into her lap.
Concentrate, concentrate, concentrate. To get there, Sophie focused on the ads or whatever they were. “Did you design the one we both like?”
“I designed them all.” And then Leah munched on the bacon.
Sophie seriously considered diving across the table. Yeah, that wouldn’t be weird or anything.
She cleared her throat and tried to convince her brain the granola bar she ate each morning tasted good. “Then why are you upset about—”
Beck came around the butcher block island one last time. He held two plates. One thudded on the table in front of Sophie. He carried the other one with him and took his seat perpendicular to her at the head.
She glanced at the crisp bacon strips and then to Beck. She forced the words out. “You don’t need to feed me.”
He held up a fork to her, balancing it on the tip. “You never eat.”
She had a pair of jeans that suggested otherwise. “That’s clearly not true.”
“He’s right.” Leah buttered several pieces of toast then handed them out. “I’ve never seen you sit down for a meal with us. We’re not that scary . . . well, most of us aren’t.”
Sophie drew in a long breath, trying to get her brain clicking in normal time again. Beck went through his usual morning routine, preparing food and making sure everyone had what they needed. And this time he included her. No fanfare. No arguing. He acted like he did it every day, and for Leah and his brothers he did. Just not Sophie.
She was confused and more than a little touched. It had been a long time since anyone watched over her. Her aunt and uncle gave a shy and depressed little girl all they could—support, the necessities and love. But anxiety continued to thump inside Sophie. Some days just out of hearing and tucked away in a dark, walled-off section of her soul. Other days blaring out in the open and so loud and suffocating that Sophie struggled to breathe. Like every day since she’d known about Charlie’s con of Aunt Angela.
“I don’t live here.” At the moment Sophie barely lived anywhere. She walked away from her Seattle apartment rather than pay rent on a place where she temporarily didn’t stay. Most of her stuff sat in storage. She hid out at Shadow Hill. She imposed on Tom at his house.
If humans needed to belong in order to survive, she was in deep trouble.
“That doesn’t matter,” Leah said.
“Of course it does.”
Leah waved her hand in the air, like she tended to do whenever she was about to take the conversation in a new direction. “You should eat with us when you’re around the house.”
Sophie couldn’t let her mind go there. Couldn’t even spin the fantasy for a second. “I don’t think—”
“Agreed.” Beck continued to hold up the fork. He even waved it in the air.
Sophie’s mind went black. Alphabet, general addition—all gone. “What?”
“You’re not just the help.”
He stared her down as he said it, those blue eyes intense and focused solely on her. Since Leah had stopped eating and joined in the who-will-blink-first contest, Sophie snatched the fork out of Beck’s fingers. She was about to dig into the eggs when the whisper left her lips. “You spelled out the employer/employee relationship pretty clearly yesterday.”
Leah laughed. “Sorry I missed that.”
“No, you’re not, because I was wrong yesterday.” Beck shook his head as he broke a piece of bacon in half. “Boy, was I wrong.”
Before she could pretend she didn’t hear him, Sophie let out a small choking sound. Really, this guy could reduce her to a puddle of goo without even trying. Who knew something so simple as cooking her breakfast and making her feel wanted would send her stomach galloping toward her throat.
Leah’s gaze bounced between Sophie and Beck. The smile inching across her mouth grew wider the longer Leah looked. “Interesting.”
Beck’s hand shifted until it sat just inches from Sophie’s. “So, no more referring to you as the help.” The firm tone mirrored the tightness across his shoulders.
He clearly wanted her to understand, but after the library . . . “Then what am I?”
“I’m not sure yet.”
Leah picked up her plate and got halfway to her feet. “I’m going to go—”
Beck pointed at her. “Do not move.”
“Uh, hello?” The you’re-one-step-from-death attitude dripped from Leah’s voice.
He answered her flash of anger with one of his killer dimpled smiles. “We’re going to sit here and eat like normal people.”
She still hovered between sitting and standing. “I’m not sure normal people, whatever that means, take orders to eat.”
“Did I really order?”
“Sounded like it.”
“Sorry about that. It’s just that my mom used to insist we have dinner together a few times a week. No games or arguing allowed.” Beck reached over and refilled Leah’s coffee mug. “We sat, talked and ate. Anyone who violated her rules did not eat.”
The words hit Sophie like a punch. Now she was desperate for Leah to sit down. Beck spilling personal information never happened. The tiny peek, the comments he made here and there: Sophie grabbed on to them. He came from a fractured home with an irresponsible, even criminal, father. Yet, Beck seemed to handle both the big things and the little things without going into extreme crisis mode. She wanted that skill.
“Sounds like a good tradition,” Leah said as she sat down and eyed Beck.
And it might have been if they didn’t sit in silence. A full minute ticked by before Sophie jumped in. “So what exactly were you allowed to talk about at these dinners?”
Beck shrugged. “The usual.”
Yeah, that wasn’t helpful. “I don’t know what that means.”
“School, sports, the idiot kids who lived across the street.”
The silverware clanked and the old farm table creaked as they ate. As the minutes passed, someone would reach for the toast while someone else grabbed a piece of bacon. All of the tension seeped out the windows, leaving a comfortabl
e silence broken with a few questions. Most centered on the weather and other mundane, but safe, topics.
Then Leah took over. “What about you, Sophie? How did dinner go at your house when you were a kid? What did you talk about?”
Sophie had known the question was coming. The shared looks between Beck and Leah warned her. The only question was what she would say when Leah found the right combination. Sophie didn’t rehearse or plan. She vowed to let the conversation flow and answer in the moment. “Nothing.”
“Sounds quiet,” Beck said.
“What I mean is, I don’t remember.”
His eyes narrowed. “How can you—”
Leah stopped the question with a gentle touch of her hand against his forearm. “This might be too personal.”
“It’s okay. It was a long time ago.” Sophie could have stopped there, but the words tumbled out when Beck continued to stare at her, those blue eyes reassuring and calm. “My parents died in a car accident when I was ten. Nothing was really normal after that.”
Beck dropped the bacon strip he was holding. “Damn, Sophie. I’m sorry.”
Sadness moved over Leah’s face. “So am I.”
Sophie didn’t have every piece of information, but she knew Leah had lost her mother young as well. They belonged to the same awful, life-defining club. “You figure out a way to survive.”
Leah nodded. “You do.”
They were quite the trio. Lost parents and childhoods cut short with adult tragedies. Sophie knew she didn’t have to give a drawn-out explanation or hide behind trite phrases about moving on. They knew. All three of them knew that there were things you survived but never truly got over.
The cell on the table hummed and the table vibrated. Leah picked it up then put it right back down without saying a word.
Something about the vacant look on her face and the way the life rushed right out of her had Sophie about to reach her hand across the table to offer comfort.
Beck beat her to it.
“Speaking of family, that was my dad.” Leah swallowed as the light left her eyes. “He’s letting me know I can come to dinner on Sunday if I’ve ‘come to my senses.’”
Beck blew out a long breath. “I wish he’d ease up.”
Sophie knew the town gossip. The news of the family feud spread faster than the flu. Everyone heard about how town icon Marc Baron wanted his daughter away from “that Hanover boy” and that was the nicest quote Sophie had heard. Knowing Declan, seeing him with Leah, Sophie didn’t get the response at all.
Leah turned to Sophie. “My dad hates Declan and thinks I’m disloyal for living here and dating him.”
“Your dad hates anyone with the last name of Hanover.” Beck gave Leah’s hand a squeeze then sat back again.
“He also hates that I’m in this house and he lost it as part of Charlie’s infamous con.”
Beck shook his head. “Charlie Hanover strikes again.”
They acted like she didn’t live in the town and didn’t know how Charlie screwed his best friend Marc when he screwed the town and left with all its money. Sophie decided not to point out how everyone knew the story, even people like her who just moved in.
“Yeah, gotta love family dysfunction,” Leah said.
“I know it doesn’t make it any easier, but almost everyone I’ve heard talk about the situation thinks your dad is out of line.” Sophie regretted the words as soon as she said them. She made it sound like she was going around gossiping about the family when she really did everything she could not to talk about them, including ducking questions from police chief Darber who just last week tried to turn a friendly greeting into a fact-finding mission.
“I appreciate that but, honestly, it doesn’t matter what anyone thinks. I know Declan. I know these brothers, and I know my father. This isn’t even a close call. I love my dad and miss him, but I would be miserable if I weren’t here.” Leah waved her hands in front of her face and some of the darkness cleared from her expression. “Never mind all that. I want to get back to our conversation.”
“Sounds like we’re about to get hit with a big idea,” Beck joked.
“Exactly. It’s time for us to start a new tradition. Starting next week I’m instituting family dinner night. Every Wednesday, if we can manage it.”
Beck smiled. “Should be interesting.”
“Right. Forget that. If I give you guys a way out, you’ll take it, so consider the meal mandatory.” Leah made the pronouncement with the surety of someone who knew her place in the family and reveled in it.
“Forced togetherness?” Beck asked.
Leah nodded. “Exactly.”
Sophie felt a kick of envy. Leah had come through awful times, found Declan and together they thrived. Any sane person would want that level of love and acceptance.
“I’m in,” Beck said.
Leah shot Sophie an oh-no-you-don’t glance. “And before you think about skulking out of here or making up an excuse why you can’t come to the inaugural dinner, you’re invited.”
Sophie knew she had to put the brakes on before they careened out of control. “I don’t think that’s a great idea.”
“I can make your attendance mandatory as well, you know,” Leah said, smiling around her piece of toast.
Sitting there with all of them, talking and laughing as they did when they got together was so very tempting, yet so wrong. One meal and a bit of background was one thing, but Sophie knew getting sucked into their lives would destroy her when she left. “Family means—”
“You’re going to be there.” From the stark lines around his mouth to the stiff way he held his body, intensity pulsed off Beck as he stared Sophie down. “Remember what I said. No more talk about being an employee only.”
Every time he said that phrase, the words chipped away at the shield she wanted to build against him. “That doesn’t make me family. There are a lot of relationship types between employee and family member.”
“Until we figure out where you fit in, I say you join us for dinner.”
If it were possible for a heart to dance, Sophie’s just did. She felt the flutter and then fought to hide the pickup in her breathing. Her hand shook as she put the last piece of bacon back on her plate.
“What are your brothers going to say to that?” And by “brothers” she meant Callen.
“That’s easy,” Leah said, breaking into the spiraling tension. “Speaking for Declan? He’ll say it’s about damn time we took you in.”
Chapter Ten
Callen sat in the middle of the couch in the television room with his elbows balanced on his knees. He turned the sealed envelope end over end in his hands. Most days he didn’t care what information waited inside. He didn’t rush headfirst into bad news. Not after a lifetime of wallowing in it.
But life had taken a new turn. After a shit storm of a year, ending with a woman he wanted to forget, he had a home. A place to return to each day. Brothers he respected and who made him laugh. The kind of things that seemed so out of his grasp for most of his life but defined stability for other people. He no longer worried about how he would buy food or where he would sleep. He knew if he needed Declan and Beck, they would be there without question.
Even Leah had wormed her way into his heart. He now couldn’t imagine a household without her in it, trying to boss him around.
He smiled at the thought but it fell away again as his mind zoomed back to the run-in with Chief Darber at the post office a half hour before that ended with a “watch your step” warning. The unwanted lecture and the paper under Callen’s fingers were a reminding jolt of an imperfect past. Whatever was in there could change everything. Leah warned him, but he’d known before she said a word. He saw it in her eyes, felt the dark clouds rolling in even though he fought to hold them back.
After years of running and fighting and wondering if
the police waited on the next street, things were normal. Or what he guessed to be normal. He had no experience with that world or that kind of life.
He spun the envelope one last time then let it slip to the coffee table. He slumped back against the couch cushions and closed his eyes. The soft murmur of voices reached him from the kitchen. He thought about going in but couldn’t stand the idea of another egg-based meal courtesy of Beck. The guy needed a cooking class.
“Hey, Tom’s here.” Declan’s voice boomed through the room. “Are you ready?”
Callen opened his eyes and sat up. “Yeah.”
Declan wasn’t exactly hiding his look of concern. He frowned as he slid around the doorframe and further into the room. “You okay?”
“Better than I have been in a long time, actually.” Callen skipped the part about the police still sniffing around, because Declan didn’t need to worry about that. The investigation the police chief and FBI Special Agent Walker Reeves cooked up centered on Callen, and he was determined to keep the attention off his brothers.
“That’s good to hear.” Declan laughed as he sat on the edge of the table and stared down at the envelope. “Maybe a bit surprising.”
“How so?”
For all Callen knew, Leah filled Declan in on what was in that envelope. He never threw out the pity or acted like anyone other than Declan—strong, smart and sturdy. With Shadow Hill, he thrived as if he’d waited his entire adult life for a home. It, along with Leah, proved to be the balm to keep him settled. He was decent to the bone and hard-working, and Callen admired him.
Callen also wanted to stick around and see how long it took Declan to put a ring on Leah’s finger then watch them build a life together. Callen doubted it would be a lengthy wait.
“I didn’t expect you to say something like that. You’re not exactly a hang-around type, but if that’s changed . . .” Declan shrugged. “I like it.”
“Frankly, liking it here surprised me, too. I came to Sweetwater weeks ago to sign papers and bolt.” The same pattern he’d been repeating for years. Get in and get out even faster.
A Simple Twist of Fate Page 9