Hold on to Hope - Page 12

My brothers were so wild and crazy and fun.

Growing up, our home had been a constant madhouse, two of them in an unending battle to outdo the other.

Was pretty sure Ryland could take Preston flat out.

Preston was only two years younger than Ryland, but they were worlds apart in size. Preston was still this little stick figure with blond hair and thin arms and the most carefree smile you’d ever seen.

Was pretty sure he was getting ready to grow into his skin, though, even surer that he was going to look exactly like our daddy, tall and sinewy with lean, packed strength.

Speaking of Daddy, he trudged in, wearing one of his crooked, coy grins. He went right for Mama, kissed her firm on the mouth. “Hi, baby. How was your day?”

My insides clutched at the sweet, tender sight.

It was a rare, precious thing to find a love like that.

“Better now that you’re home,” she murmured up at him.

He swatted her on the butt.

“Ah, gross, you two. Get a room,” Preston gruffed the tease over his shoulder, going for the refrigerator to grab a Gatorade.

“Plan to,” Daddy baited right back.

Preston pretended to gag as he twisted the cap. “Why’d I even go there?”

“Because you’re an idiot, that’s why,” Ryland tossed out, leaning a hip on the counter.

A frown took hold of Preston’s face. “Way to be rude, man. You really do want me to junk punch you, don’t you?”

Ryland gestured at himself. “Bring it and see what happens.”

Preston gulped down his Gatorade, pointed a finger wrapped around the bottle at Ryland. “Don’t worry, brother. Your boys are safe. At least for now. But watch yourself tomorrow. Or maybe in your sleep.”

“You even look at me when I’m sleeping, and you die. Think I’ll just take you out right now.” He started for Preston, and Preston cracked up, jumping into action, sliding behind the round dining table situated in the nook and grabbing onto the back of a chair like he might have to use it to propel himself back over to the other side.

Ryland scrambled for him, a shimmy and fake lurch.

Preston squealed like a pig.

Affection floated, and a small giggle slipped free.

It was no wonder I came here.

The reminder that life went on. That there was joy all around me. Drawn to the chaos and the loyalty.

I just wished Evan would have felt some of it.

“Hey, hey. No roughhousing in the house.” Mama shooed them both.

“That is the very definition of roughhousing, Mom. Can’t do it outside.” Preston tossed her the smart-mouthed tease while Ryland relented and started for the archway so he could go upstairs, canting me a smile when he paused. “You sticking around for dinner?”

I rubbed my sweaty palms up my arms. “I don’t think so. I was just stopping by to say hi.”

He frowned like I was crazy. “Have you smelled what Mom is cooking?”

I smiled at him. “Yeah, but I’m pretty sure after you get to it, there won’t be any left for me.”

“True story,” he said, sending me a wave as he headed for the stairs. “See you this weekend then.”

Preston loped along behind him. “See ya, Frankie! Love you. Way more than Ryland does.” He cracked up at that as he started up the stairway behind Ryland.

“You wish, asshole.” Ryland pushed him back down a single step.

“Language,” Daddy shouted again.

“Love you both,” I hollered after them. I thought it was a small miracle that the words didn’t crack.

That I didn’t come loose again.

Crumble to the floor.

“Boys.” Mama rolled her eyes with all her affection, though her worry was still blatant as she turned her gaze on me.

Soft and concerned and filled with her undying support.

Uncle Kale and Carly were the only ones who really knew.

But I thought Mama had some inclination. Mother’s intuition that her little girl had been completely shredded in some way.

Decimated.

Utterly destroyed.

Daddy grinned like he hadn’t picked up on the mood quite yet as he swung his attention to me, hitting me with the adoration that always glowed in his eyes.

He was pretty much the most awesome daddy around.

Except that made him about as intuitive as Mama.

His smile slipped.

“What’s wrong, Sweet Pea?”

“Oh, absolutely nothin’.” I pinned on a bright, fake smile.

Lies.

All lies.

Honestly, there was no reason to beat around the bush. No doubt, that news was going to spread like wildfire.

Hell, I had no idea how he didn’t already know.

“Evan’s back,” Mama said where she was pulling off the lid to stir the bubbling stew, her voice deep with implication.

Daddy hissed, gripped a handful of hair in his own shock and dread. “What?”

Evan disappearing had done a number on all of us.

It was like Daddy’s attention didn’t know where to land, the weight of it whipping back and forth between Mama and me, demanding answers.

He loved Evan. Of course, he did. But all those fatherly instincts had always landed on the protective side of his little girl when it’d come to us.

Tags: A.L. Jackson Romance
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