It wasn’t her fault that she didn’t understand a lot of things, but it wasn’t Mom or Dad’s fault either. I think sometimes things happen for a reason and Cleo got the short end of the stick.
I never loved her any less for being different, and I like to think that Sky didn’t either.
I ease the truck to the stop sign at the edge of town and sigh heavily. Left, right, or onward? My heart tells me to continue in a straight line and I’ll find what I’m looking for, so when it’s my turn to continue, I gently press down on the gas pedal and continue on my way.
I’m sitting inside my truck, chewing the inside of my mouth thoughtfully. It seems that I have the right address from what I’ve written down, but I’m not entirely sure what to say.
Hi, my name is Richter Greene and I’m looking for my little sister, Cleo. Have you seen her?
I scratch my head, deciding that the direct approach is probably best, and undo my seatbelt. I check the rearview mirror before stepping out of my truck and slide my keys into my pocket.
One last deep breath, a look down either way of the long, country road, and I start walking up the dirt drive.
I smile at the size of the house.
It’s not huge, but it’s almost as big as the one I lived in with Cleo, except it’s only one story.
Hopefully I’m not disturbing anyone, I think nervously.
After I make my way up the walkway, I raise a hand and knock on the door, waiting patiently for someone to acknowledge that I’m here.
A few minutes pass and there’s still no sign of life inside, even though I can hear conversation, so I knock again, a little louder this time. And that’s enough to send a set of footsteps quickly toward the front door. I can hear the faint echoing from inside, becoming louder and clearer the closer they get.
The door opens slightly and a beautiful woman with blonde hair peeks out at me.
“Can I help you?” she asks curiously.
“Um,” I stammer. I can’t help it—she’s fucking gorgeous. With a friendly smile, she leans her head against the door frame, waiting patiently for me to regain my bearings.
“I can’t help you if I don’t know what you need,” she remarks in a curious, but friendly tone.
“Oh, sorry,” I reply, my face blushing crimson red. “I was looking for—” I fish the piece of scrap paper out of my hand, glance down at the name, then look back into her eyes. “Bryden Furay.”
“Daddy!” she calls back over her shoulder.
I smile nervously and scuff my shoe against the porch while I wait. A few moments later, I’m greeted by an older man—one with eyes that seem so fucking familiar that I narrow mine as I inspect him.
“I’m Bryden, how can I help you?” he asks, stepping out and extending his hand.
The smell of him is so familiar.
The way his touch feels when I take his hand in mine makes me nervous.
But his eyes.
The longer I look into his eyes, the more I’m starting to wonder… because the eyes that are staring back at me are unique. They’re almost like the blonde girl’s that opened the door for me, but in that masculine frame of a face…
There’s no way—he would have told us.
“I’m Richter Greene. I’m looking for my sister Cleo.”
Bryden raises an eyebrow as his hand tightens around mine and he gives me a gentle jerk toward him.
“What did you say your name was?” he asks in a hushed tone.
“Richter.”
“Your last name,” he says in a stern tone with a shake of his head. “What’s your last name?”
“Greene,” I reply nervously, taking a step back and wrenching my hand out of his grip.
He looks me up and down, narrows his eyes, and shakes his head.
“That bastard,” he mumbles under his breath. “That goddamn bastard.”
Seven
Bryden
“Come in,” I say as I step back from the door. My head is spinning as the young man walks inside my home, his eyes going directly to the little ones playing on the living room floor, and I close the door slowly to give myself time to think.
Richter Greene.
GREENE. Like the ink on my back. The name I worked a lifetime to earn… and even after I’d proven I was a Greene; it wasn’t enough for him to tell me this in person? Not enough to know about the young man who shares my blood?
Luke’s blood.
Our blood.
I take a deep breath, trying to be as welcoming as I should be to family while I think through Luke’s reasoning for keeping Richter from me.
“Let’s talk in the kitchen,” I suggest, leading him that way as his head continues to swivel. It makes me smile because he looks wide-eyed. A little overwhelmed, maybe a bit impressed, and I can’t help but feel pride as I watch Heather helping our girl Embry write the alphabet on the floor.
The chaos of the house keeps distracting him as I take my seat at the head of the table, and he hesitates in the doorway as Gavin and Owen come racing through the living room in their coats. They’re out the door too fast, laughing, and I hear Casey remind them about the backdoor as he shuts it.
“This is your family?” he asks, and I wait for him to return his gaze to mine before I nod.
“It is, and… apparently so are you.” I let the statement rest there for a moment as his brow furrows and he lowers himself into the chair on my left.
“We’re…”
“Family,” I finish for him. “It’s nice to meet you.”
Richter still looks
