When he spun toward the mounted shelf of bath and shower products, he exhaled with relief to find a tall, dark bottle of a drugstore-brand shampoo simply labeled as shampoo, no frills or bells or whistles. That didn’t stop him from grabbing the white bottle next to it, the one with words likedaily hydrationandnourishing coconut milk. He flipped open the cap and squeezed, releasing the scent of its contents into the steam so that the whole shower seemed to fill with Willow.
“You’re a damned jackass,” he said out loud, while silently answering himself with,I know.
***
Ash raised his hand to knock on the apartment door and realized that for the second time in less than twenty-four hours, he was an interloper in someone else’s space, in someone else’s life. He could turn around right now, pretend he was never here,and leave everyone in peace…maintain the status quo. Wouldn’t everyone be happier that way?
He continued with the mental gymnastics, vaulting from one convincing excuse to another so that he wouldn’t have to do the thing he didn’t want to do, which was why when someone tapped him on the shoulder from behind, he nearly leaped out of his own skin, a string of expletives firing off from his lips as he spun to face his…attacker? Nosy neighbor?
“Language!” Boone Murphy exclaimed with a laugh, brows raised in admonishment. Next to him—and several feet closer to the floor—stood a blond, pigtailed, blue-eyed toddler who was nowrepeatingthat string of expletives like she was reciting her ABCs. “Oh shit,” Boone added.
“Oh shit!” the girl mimicked.
And all the anxiety that had caused Ash’s mental gymnastics in the first place dissolved into a fit of laughter as he watched his niece send her father into an all-out panic.
“Casey is going to kill me,” Boone told him through clenched teeth. Then he reached past Ash and opened the apartment door, the small girl running ahead of him and down a hallway he assumed led to her room.
Boone followed the girl, jogging after her, and then returning fifteen seconds later.
“She’s coloring,” he informed Ash, breathing asigh of relief. “And no longer dropping f-bombs. Though she’ll probably surprise us with a doozie at dinner.” He crossed his arms and looked Ash up and down.
“What?” Ash asked.
“Are you a vampire or something?” Boone countered.
Ash’s brows furrowed. “What?” he repeated, apparently having lost all other words that used to be in his vocabulary.
Boone shrugged. “Just figured the only reason a Murphy would have tonotenter another Murphy’s property would be because the undead can’t enter without an invitation.” He leaned forward and stage-whispered. “If anyone asks, Casey makes me watchThe Vampire Diarieswith her, but the truth is, on my days home with Kara, it’s my goddamn favorite thing to binge while she naps.”
“Goddamn favorite thing!” Kara exclaimed from her bedroom.
Boone threw his hands in the air. “I’m already a dead man, so if you’re going to drain me of my life force, or whatever, you might as well put me out of my misery now.” He stepped aside and motioned for Ash to enter.
Ash stepped over the threshold into one of his two older brothers’ homes, a place he’d never visited before today. “I’m…uh…not going to drain you of your life force, by the way,” he told Boone.
The older Murphy brother shrugged. “In that case…”
And then, for the second time in a matter of minutes, Ash was thrown for yet another loop as Boone pulled him in for a bear hug.
He just stood there, stiff, as his brother clapped him on the back and then grabbed him by the shoulders, pushing him an arm’s length away so he could get a good look at the prodigal son now returned.
“What’s the matter?” Boone asked with a wry grin. “Has superstardom beaten the ability to hug outta you?”
Ash cleared his throat. “No… I just… It was unexpected.” But the truth was, Ash Murphy couldn’t remember the last time he’d hugged someone…or that someone had actually hugged him without the gesture turning into some sort of transaction.
He finally had a chance to get a good look at Boone. His dark hair was longer than Ash had remembered, and there were lines at the corners of his brother’s eyes that hadn’t been there before. But Ash could tell those lines were evidence of happiness, of too much smiling when the Boone he’d known in his later teen years had been anything but.
The two men who stared at each other were strangers now, and Ash wasn’t prepared for the virtual sock to the gut he felt as he realized this.
“You look good, Boone,” he admitted, trying to hide the guilt from his tone.
Boone huffed out a laugh. “And you look like you just got hit by a truck.” He nodded toward the butterfly bandage on Ash’s temple, the one he’d had to reapply after his shower yesterday when he realized he probably should have gotten a stitch or two.
“Not a truck,” he told his brother, absently brushing his fingers over the bandage. “A vase. My welcome-home gift.”
Boone slipped past Ash and into the kitchen opposite the living area. Though all of it looked like one big room, withbigbeing a generous term. It gave a whole new meaning toopen concept, the term Sloane had used to describe the house he bought sight unseen simply to have a place of his own. Yet this little apartment felt more like a home than Ash’s open-concept five-bedroom ranch ever would.
“You look like you could use a drink,” Boone called from over his shoulder.
