On instinct, I peer over my shoulder. On the other side of the sliding-glass door, the living room is awash in thesoft glow of the TV, and I can just make out my brothers’ forms on the couch.
“So.” Caleb stretches his legs out, laying his large hands on his knees. “Tell me about your day. Surely it was better than mine.”
I snort, a thread of unease working through me. “Today was my third day at the coffee shop in town, and I managed to mess up nearly every order. I spilled coffee on myself and dropped an entire tray of almond croissants. I’ll be lucky if I’m not fired. I’m not making a good impression.”
I spent my entire lunch break sitting in my car crying. Normally, I’m a master at keeping my shit together, but today got to me. I’m tired of trying so hard and nothing working out in my favor.
“I’m sorry,” he murmurs.
I shrug. “It is what is.”
Those four words make my chest constrict. I’ve been repeating them to myself for years. There’s no point in wallowing when things don’t go well.
Even if that’s exactly what I came outside to do.
“Still, it’s okay to admit it was a sucky day.”
I sigh. “Fine. Today fucking sucked.”
With a laugh, he crosses his arms over his chest. “Today fucking sucked.”
“So,” I begin, “if you have a place in Boston, why do you have a house here? Seems like it would be more convenient to live in Boston full time.”
“It’s a long story,” he warns, dropping his head back.
I arch a brow, even if he’s not looking at me. “And?”
Sighing, he straightens. “You sure you want it?”
“Please.” I probably sound too eager, but honestly, my interest has more to do with needing a distraction than anything else.
“I grew up here. My family founded the town generations ago. Somewhere along the way, our last name morphed from Hawthorne to just Thorne.” He rubs at his face, looking more haggard than even a moment ago. Dark circles haunt the space beneath his eyes, and his lids are heavy like he hasn’t slept well in a while. “Anyway, my ex-wife moved back here and got married, so I bought the house next door.”
A bark of laughter bursts out of me. “To what? Torment her?”
The way he flinches makes me instantly wish I could take that back.
“No.” The word escapes him slowly, his eyes fixed on his hands clasped in front of him. “To be close to my daughter. If I stayed in Boston all the time, I’d barely have any time with her. I’m not here as much as I’d like to be, but this way, I get to see her at least once a week.”
“That must be hard.”
Clearly, he cares deeply for his daughter if he’s willing to buy the house next door to his ex to be close to her.
“It is. Our situation is unconventional, to say the least.” He spreads his fingers on his thighs and lets out a long exhale. “But it works for us.”
“How old is she? Your daughter?”
He smiles softly, eyes distant. “Ten.”
“Ten?” I try not to let my shock show. “How old are you?”
His low chuckle rumbles through me. “Twenty-nine.”
Younger than I thought. When I think about it, I suppose he doesn’t look over thirty, but the way he carries himself and the depth in his eyes make him appear older.
“Wow. I can’t imagine having a baby at nineteen.”
It’s silly to say that, since I’ve been practically raising my brothers since I was nine, but still…
