The Winter Berry House

by Caroline Flynn

  ‘Glad to hear it,’ she said with a grin. ‘You have a box or plastic bag I can pack it in?’

  ‘Under the sink.’

  Kait went about bagging up the sheets and pillowcases they would donate to Goodwill, figuring the sooner some of this stuff was out of sight the easier it would be on Branch. Having to sift through all the things to get rid of was a difficult enough task on its own, without having to look at the piles of it afterward.

  ‘You’re a responsible adult.’

  Kait’s head snapped up at the sound of Branch’s voice. She had been lulled into a soothing silence, placing items in the bag as he handed them to her. ‘Excuse me?’

  A crooked smile played on his lips. ‘You have to be. I don’t know anyone else who’s so intent to look after everyone that they live with their sister and babysit her kids and work all the time just to make things easier on someone else. Janna’s lucky to have you.’

  Kait’s gut twisted, her cheeks flaming at the compliment. ‘Janna deserves someone to give her a break,’ she replied, shrugging. ‘If it’s got to be me, then so be it.’

  Branch held up a flannel sheet set of baby blue and white flowers, cringing so hard that Kait pressed her lips together to suppress another laugh.

  ‘I take it the boys’ father isn’t in the picture?’ He handed the sheets to her.

  No judgment, no pretenses. Janna had never liked Branch, for no other reason than because she had never trusted his unabashed devotion to Kait, a devotion that belied his young age. Kait didn’t think anyone would ever be good enough for her in Janna’s eyes, but her older sister had been particularly adamant in her opinion that Branch would never measure up. He undoubtedly knew her detest had only grown over the years. Yet, his question was void of any negativity. Kait missed that about him – his desire to know, and his ability to remain impartial unless it involved him.

  ‘He left her when he found out she was carrying twins.’ Kait’s eyes stayed down, fixed on the basket of miscellaneous household items on the bottom shelf of the closet. ‘He wasn’t thrilled when he found out she was pregnant, but finding out there were two babies was more than he was willing to handle, I guess.’

  Branch sighed. ‘Janna deserves so much better than that. So do those boys.’

  There it was, the aching in her chest as her heart swelled. No ill will toward someone he knew didn’t like him. Branch understood that Janna deserved better than the hand she’d been dealt, purely because everyone deserved better than to be deserted by someone who was supposed to love them and their unborn children.

  ‘Janna and the kids do all right,’ she replied, tying the plastic bag up. ‘We’ve got a system. When she works at the diner, I stay with the kids, and vice versa. On the off chance we get paired up on the same shift, we switch with somebody or we hope and pray Mom’s in a grandmother kind of mood. Pass me that basket. I’ll sort through it.’

  Branch’s jaw had tightened, but he nodded and slid the basket over. He knew the hands-off approach her mother had always taken in their own upbringing, preferring the so-called nightlife over the mundane days she usually slept through. Jameson whiskey was her favorite companion, but if given ample notice, Marsha Davenport was able to sober up and actually be kind of fun for the sake of her grandchildren. That didn’t mean Kait and Janna didn’t rush home from work on those days to get the boys back in their sight, though.

  ‘So, your mom hasn’t changed much, either, then.’

  ‘Some things never change.’

  He turned and locked his gaze with hers. ‘I keep hearing that a lot lately.’

  ‘That’s because it’s true.’ Each word was spoken without so much as an eye blink. It took everything in her to tear her gaze away and focus on the basket. She threw a decrepit box of mothballs into the trash, then sorted out the lightbulbs and spools of thick string that had been tossed haphazardly into the wicker basket.

  ‘You know what I think will never change?’ He pulled what looked like a never-opened comforter with a paint stroke motif from one of the middle shelves, still in the bag with a price sticker on it. ‘My hatred for pastel colors. Get this thing out of here.’

  She wrapped her arms around the zipped clear bag containing the folded blanket, laughing once more. ‘Duly noted.’ Glancing from the two bags of discarded linens to the partially empty shelves in front of him, Kait raised her eyebrows. ‘Branch, you haven’t kept a thing.’

  ‘That’s because none of this stuff even reminds me of Grandma Addie. Everything in here is probably older than I am, and frankly, I don’t remember Grandma Addie ever opening this closet, let alone rummaging through it to find something she actually wanted.’

  ‘Me neither,’ Kait agreed. Crouching down, she reached to grab another huge plastic bag from the roll. ‘You know what that means.’ She gripped the bag on both sides and held it outward, waiting.

  Branch looked from her to the bag then back again. ‘You know what, you’re right. Grandma Addie only ever used the linens from the hallway closet upstairs. These were just extras.’ He stood up to his full height and proceeded to push every old blanket and sheet set into the bag until all the shelves in the closet were bare.

  Kait tied the bags up and dusted off her hands. ‘Or extra extras.’ Her mouth twitched. ‘She was nothing if not prepared.’

  ‘You got that right.’ Branch wiped a hand over the empty shelf as though confirming it was, in fact, bare, then closed the door. ‘Well, that’s progress, I’d say.’

  ‘Baby steps.’ She pulled the plastic bags together into a pile. ‘If you want, I can drop these off at the donation depot on my way to work tomorrow morning.’

  ‘Saves me from having the chance to second-guess my decision to get rid of them,’ he replied. ‘I’ll take them out to the trunk of your car.’

  Kait never questioned how hard it must be for Branch to have to get rid of things in his grandparents’ house, but his comment confirmed he was struggling with it even more than he was letting on. Her heart ached for him, unable to imagine being forced to decide what stayed and what was given away, like some things mattered and others didn’t. That was the problem, though, wasn’t it? Now, with his only family members gone, everything in that house was all he had left. Everything mattered, in some way.

  Outside, the snowflakes had multiplied, being shaken from the blackened sky with more vigor. They fell gently, though, in no hurry to freefall to the ground. The outside light came on, triggered by their motion on the front step, and Branch carried two bags while Kait wrestled with one. The trunk of her old Ford Focus went from empty to piled full in seconds.

  Branch pushed the trunk closed, leaning on it with his elbows until it latched. ‘Would you look at this? Not even a breeze, and the snowflakes are big enough they look fake.’

  ‘It’s snow, Branch. Christmas-card snow, but just snow, nonetheless.’

  He leaned against her car, watching it float lazily around them. ‘Christmas-card snow, I like that. Even if you don’t.’

  ‘Sunny and seventy-five, remember?’

  Humor reflected in his eyes as he stood there. Both of them had slipped their jackets on but failed to zip them up, and the golden light stretching across the snowy pavement cast dark shadows against the vehicles and shrubs. Kait was still trying to decide if the glint that shone back at her in his gaze was a figment of the light fixture’s glow or something more devious when Branch pushed away from the car and held up a finger.

  ‘I’ll be right back,’ he hollered over his shoulder. ‘Stay here.’

  Taking the front steps two at a time, he disappeared into the house, leaving her with only the drifting snowflakes to keep her company. Had the man not taken her aversion to cold seriously? A minute later, the front door opened again and an orange basketball bounced down the steps ahead of Branch, who was carrying the battered backboard in his hands, struggling to get it through the doorway.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Kait shouted. ‘You’re going to fall down thos
e steps and break your neck.’

  ‘Do me a favor and go catch the basketball that’s rolling down the driveway. I’ll handle the rest.’

  Kait muttered to herself the entire way down the snowy driveway. She knew that playful look in his eye – Branch was in one of his fun-loving moods. She didn’t blame him for it. If the tables were turned, she would want to relieve some of the stress in her shoulders after making a little leeway in the daunting task of organizing an entire house. Seeing this side of him was only making it harder on herself, though.

  Why was she so hell-bent on being here, on doing this to herself?

  She plucked the ball from the end of the driveway and made her way back to the dimly lit pavement in front of the garage. Branch must have had no trouble finding a ladder amongst Grandpa Duke’s stuff in the garage, because he had it unfolded and was perched halfway up, hanging the backboard on the rusted metal base that remained on the eave after all this time.

  ‘Branch, it’s freezing out here and it’s freaking snowing.’ She rolled the ball in his direction.

  ‘I’ve noticed,’ he laughed, climbing back down and moving the ladder out of the way. He stopped the ball with his foot. ‘But it’s Christmas-card snow. We can’t just go back inside.’

  ‘Sure we can.’

  Branch scooped up the ball and tossed it toward Kait. ‘Three points and we can go back in the house.’

  Catching the ball in both hands, Kait blinked back the snowflakes falling onto her eyelashes as she furrowed her brows, watching, skeptical, as Branch pulled the snow shovel from the side of the house and cleared off a square patch of the driveway. ‘You want to play basketball. In the snow.’

  ‘Come on, it’ll be fun,’ he insisted.

  ‘It’ll be cold.’

  Laughing, Branch leaned the shovel up against the garage door. ‘Come on, Davenport, give it a shot.’ He took his defensive stance in front of her, his eyes glinting with a playful mischievousness she hadn’t witnessed in years.

  How much she missed that stare hit her like a tidal wave. She didn’t want to fall into his gaze and remember him as the high school sweetheart she once naively believed would be her husband. She wanted to – no, needed to – remember that he was neither of those things. Who he truly was, was the man who had hurt her. Lied to and betrayed her.

  But it was hard to conjure up the anger she harbored for him when he was looking at her like that, ready to be the man she remembered loving and cherishing so long ago, like time had just rewound itself and placed them back in his grandparents’ driveway, facing each other with all their love and hopes and dreams between them. In that moment, Kait wanted to be that doe-eyed, lovestruck teenager once again, instead of the shadow of the woman she had once planned to become.

  So, she bent her knees, locked eyes with Branch, and let the faintest glimmer of a smile tug at the corner of her mouth as she pushed the ball outward. It fell in a perfect arc, bouncing loudly off the rim and echoing throughout their little square of wintry wonderland.

  ‘Admit it, that would’ve been pretty cool if it had gone in,’ she chuckled.

  ‘This ain’t horseshoes,’ he snickered, dribbling the ball as he spoke. ‘Almost doesn’t count.’

  Kait dove toward him, her arms out wide to stop his layup. The ball sailed upward, clanging off the rim again, and Kait laughed as she scurried to grab it. She pivoted, one way, then the other, but Branch blocked her shot easily.

  ‘Get out of my way!’ she laughed, circling him to get out from under his flailing hands. She took another shot. It went wide, bouncing off the backboard.

  ‘Aw, you can do better than that,’ Branch heckled, stretching out for the ball.

  Kait practically scaled him, clutching the ball once she got a hold of it. ‘Not with your big, stupid arms in the way!’ she yelled, unable to stop laughing. ‘Get out of the way, Sterling!’

  ‘Make me, Davenport!’

  She got a few steps away from him, dribbling the ball awkwardly, before Branch was covering her again. She could feel him at her back, see his hands in her peripheral vision. She twisted and took another shot just as Branch, a moment too late, wrapped his arms around her middle and tried to foul it. Kait squealed, wriggling against his hold as they watched the ball swish through the hoop.

  ‘Nothing but net!’ Kait’s arms flailed in celebration. ‘Take that!’

  He lowered her to her feet, but when she turned around to face him, it wasn’t defeat etched on his face. Kait would know, because suddenly his face was so close to hers that she had to angle her chin upward to see him fully.

  ‘Good game.’ His words were but a breath on the soft flesh of her lips, caressing across her skin as they came out in hazy puffs as the warm and cold air collided. It only fueled the fire lit inside her as she took in the shadow of his facial hair, the contour of his angular jaw.

  This was anything but a game, she could see that now. But if it was, Kait wasn’t sure whether she wanted to win or lose.

  She took a reluctant step back. ‘I should go.’ Weakness. That was all she could hear clinging to every syllable that fell from her mouth. All she could see now was the moonlight that shone down on their makeshift court making the snowflakes glow as they floated in the crisp air, and all she could hear was the heaviness of Branch’s breath in time with the pounding of her own heart. She never stood a chance.

  ‘Kaitie,’ Branch whispered, and she gasped. She couldn’t ever remember hearing that kind of weakness from his mouth, either. ‘Come back. Tomorrow night. Please.’

  His broken sentence gutted her. ‘I can’t. I work,’ she explained painfully. ‘Janna will—’

  ‘The next night, then,’ he countered, his eyes never leaving hers. ‘Please.’

  She told herself it wasn’t about the heat in his dark gaze or the desperation in his tone. She told herself that what Janna thought of her decisions didn’t matter. She told herself this was just temporary, two old friends coming together to sort through the remnants of a tragedy.

  And as Kait nodded and headed back to her car, she wondered if having to tell herself that was the greatest tragedy of all.

  Because there was nothing temporary about her connection to Branch Sterling. The last ten painful years proved that. She feared the next ten years of lying to herself would be just as unkind.

  Chapter 8

  Branch

  The darkness looms, but the shrieks of laughter and shouting advise of the night’s rollicking festivities. Music thumps, bodies sway, and the scent of liquor and beer lingers in the air. I haven’t touched a drop, but every breath is permeated by it.

  So many people. But not the one person I want to be here. So much desire to escape. So much annoyance. Not toward her, though. Never toward her.

  I need to go.

  The truck’s engine rumbles and I feel the heaviness of her head on my shoulder, leaning in. Too close, too out of it. She mumbles something incoherent as her lips touch my shoulder, but all I can hear are his words, demanding to know where she is. Demanding to know where the woman I adore is. I push her gently back toward the passenger seat, away from me.

  I need to go.

  I throw the old truck in gear, and at the same second, bright and blinding, a flash of something explodes in my vision from somewhere. In my haste, I tramp down on the accelerator to force the truck to screech into movement, my mind reeling with my need to get away and my veins pumping with an electric adrenaline.

  A jolt backward, hard and fast.

  I feel it without seeing it. The sickening thump, followed by screams. From everywhere. Shrill ones carrying from the people on the lawn, guttural ones piercing my mind and stealing my sanity.

  There had been nothing behind me, but there was now. Which left nothing ahead for me, either.

  Heart banging hard against my ribcage, I clamber out of the truck and see it.

  My future being ripped away like it was never mine to hold in the first place.

  Branch bolte
d upright, unable to breathe, unable to see. The room was dark save for the moonlight shining in through the partially opened curtains. His room. In Grandma Addie and Grandpa Duke’s house. He was home.

  Home. The realization slowed his ragged breathing slightly.

  He cursed out loud to himself, his hand dragging through his hair, his skin coated in a sheen of sweat.

  It was a dream. A nightmare. Not the first he’d had, and undoubtedly not the last, but a nightmare, nonetheless.

  He wished like hell he could tell himself it wasn’t real.

  Branch spent the next day knee deep in the contents of Grandpa Duke’s garage. If he was going to tackle an area of the house alone, it might as well be the one place that wasn’t heated. He would save the warm interior of the house for him and Kait to take on together.

  Kait. Yeah, he might have technically been by himself, bundled up in his winter jacket and able to see his breath as it came out in even pants, but Kait may as well have been there, beside him, because his mind was definitely with her.

  And there was no doubt in his mind that what he still felt for her after all this time was mutual. Kait was struggling with her feelings. He didn’t have verbal proof of it, but he felt it with so much conviction that he didn’t know how it could be anything but the truth. Branch didn’t wish for Kait to struggle, but it made his heart somersault in his chest to know she was conflicted about him. When Branch showed up in town, he knew there was a colossal chance she could still hate his guts. She had told him she never wanted to see him again, and Kait was a woman who said what she meant. Branch wasn’t even sure he would have had the courage to seek her out to find out where her opinions lay with regard to him.

  But fate, if that’s what it was, had done him a solid and pushed him into the diner that day. Branch hadn’t had a chance to decide whether or not he wanted to see her, then, just like he didn’t have a chance at deciding whether or not he still loved her, either.

  Branch’s heart still belonged to her, despite time, tragedy, and circumstance.