“I’ll be inside,” Xander said, pressing a kiss to her forehead before turning and heading back.
“Think it’ll stick?” she asked, approaching her brother.
“Looks like. Give it another hour, and the girls will be begging you to build a snowman with them.” A soft smile lifted the corners of his lips, but the sadness in his eyes tugged at her heart.
Another gust of wind had snow swirling around them.
“Come on,” he said, gesturing to the back of the house.
Tucking her arms into the sleeves of the jacket, she followed behind him. Once they turned the corner, the house acted as a buffer, and the wind died down.
“So you’re smoking again?”
He shrugged. “Nasty habit, I know.”
“You okay, Ax?” He remained silent for a moment, and the despair on his face turned her stomach.
“I’m sorry I’ve been such a dick, Frey. I just...” He took a long pull of his cigarette and blew it out. He paced a few steps away before turning back to her. “I don’t know what I’m doing anymore.”
She studied her brother and noted the weariness, the worry lines that were a little deeper since the last time she’d seen him. She vowed then and there to keep in better touch with her family. Yes, this brother in particular drove her extra crazy, but she knew deep down that he meant well. His execution just sucked.
“Sure you do, Ax. You’ve got a solid job, and the girls are doing great. Sure, they’re running through nannies like crazy, but they’re Hansens.” She shrugged and gave him a teasing smile. “Par for the course, right?”
He chuckled as she’d intended, but then he shook his head. “The girls are great, but that’s all them, not me. I fucked up so badly with you—some asshat’s been sending you photos for over a fuckingdecade, and you didn’t feel safe enough to tell me. Like your guy said, that’s on me, and I really am sorry.” Shaking hishead, he ran his free hand over his jaw. “I’m scared shitless that I’m going to fuck up with the girls too.”
Her chest clenched. She stepped toward him and laid a hand on his arm. “You won’t. You may be a bit of an asshole, but you’re a great dad. The girls adore you. Plus, you have the guys to help you with them. You know they’d do anything for those two. And if you’re looking to rein in your asshole tendencies, you know the guys are more than happy to call you out on all your shit.”
He snickered. “Don’t I know it. That’s one thing I don’t have to wor?—”
Warm liquid splattered her face.
She gasped as Axel’s eyes rolled to the back of his head, and he fell toward her. She tried to catch him, but his heavy weight toppled her.
“Ax,” she wheezed, but he lay atop her motionless.
He was suddenly yanked off her. Air whooshed back into her lungs but caught in her chest. A man loomed over her. He wore a dark ski mask, and only his hollow eyes peeked through. She opened her mouth to scream, but before she could utter a sound, he swung something at her.
Fire exploded on the side of her head.
Everything went black.
CHAPTER THIRTY
The room erupted in cheers as the Seahawks scored another touchdown. It was a rare treat for them to play on Thanksgiving, and Xander was grateful. Because watching football with Freya’s brothers was a whole hell of a lot better than sitting around a formal dining table answering their questions.
“Touchdown tosses!” Finn shouted.
Josie ran toward him with her arms outstretched, and he tossed her into the air as Oscar and Jasper counted aloud to six.
“Me too, me too!” Andie squealed, waving her hands above her head.
Finn repeated the tosses with his other niece and then dramatically collapsed on the carpet. “Soon you rascals will be too big to toss into the air!” He glanced at Xander, and a wicked gleam lit his eyes. “You know what, girls?” He sat up and pulled them both onto his lap. “Xander looks like a big guy. I bet he can get you pretty high. How about he does the next touchdown toss?”
The girls cheered, and Xander chuckled.
Okay, fine. Freya’s brothers were good guys. Well... He internally cringed. Axel was a bit much. If the man just toned down the asshole bit, he’d be a little more bearable. Maybe.
Speaking of . . .
