Page 139 of Love By Design


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Biting my tongue, I waited until it hurt so the pain would stop me from saying something regrettable to my still very impressionable youngest brother.

“What brought this on?” I finally asked.

“I’m bored.”

“Of work specifically?”

“Yes,” he said.

“Smith.” I groaned, shifting my weight around and propping one ankle up on my knee. My slacks hiked up and I wrapped my hand around my ankle bone, tapping my fingers against my shin. “We argued about this after you graduated high school, and you were adamant it was what you wanted.”

“Can’t people change their minds?” he snapped.

“Of course they can,” I said carefully. “But I want to understand why you’re having this change of heart.”

“I don’t need to explain myself to you, Marshall.”

“Then why are you here?”

“This was a mistake.” Smith stood to go, and I grabbed his wrist to stop him. He let me, so I tugged him back down into the chair.

“What’s really going on, Smith?” Leaning forward, I keptmy fingers curled around his wrist, both our hands resting on top of his leg.

Of all my brothers, Smith was the most like me, which meant I should know how to handle him and his moods like they were my own. The outburst sounded rash and unprovoked, though. I expected it was a knee-jerk response to finding out about the existence of Andrew, shaking Smith’s foundation in more ways than one.

“What’s the point of it?” he asked, frowning at a spot on the wall behind me.

“You preserve history, Smith. You repair and restore it for others to enjoy.”

“I’m preserving someone’sideaof history,” he shot back. “How do I know I’m recreating an honest truth and not something made up?”

This was definitely about Andrew.

Exhaling a long breath, I squeezed his wrist before letting it go. He didn’t jump up again, so I wagered he was no longer a flight risk.

“I think,” I started slowly, needing to play into his comparison without being heavy-handed about it. “I think sometimes it’s a bit of both. We have our own preconceptions?—”

“Misconceptions.”

“Both of those,” I conceded. “But regardless of the meaning of the filigree or the conversation around the choices made when we weren’t in the room, the core of it all remains unchanged. Don’t you think?”

I was talking about us. The foundation and lives the four of us had built.

“And you know, Smith, sometimes when you dig deeper into the history of a thing, you find more support than you started with and that’s only good news for everyone. Right? It doesn’t change the shape of a thing, just the strength of it.”

My brother narrowed his eyes at me, fully aware that Iwasn’t talking about building preservation anymore. But then again, he never had been.

“It still feels like a lie,” he muttered.

“Do you think we felt that way?” I asked, giving him a small half-smile. “When you showed up?”

“You should have.”

I winked. “Finn, maybe a little, but not Hunter and never me.”

In a decidedlymemove, Smith dragged his tongue across the front of his teeth. His jaw was set like he’d been carved out of stone, and I wanted so badly to shake him out of whatever headspace he’d thrown himself into.

“By definition, additions are more not less,” I explained. “I have to see that as a good thing until it’s not.”