“Sarah, is that a nose piercing?” Rush barked, narrowing his eyes.
Sarah shrugged, smiling innocently from her apartment in Buffalo, seventy-six miles safely out of his reach.
Rush braced himself. That look never meant anything good. When Sarah was a toddler, one flash of that grin, and he knew he’d find crayon scribbled on the walls, Rachel’s Barbies floating face down in the toilet, or cereal trails stretching from the kitchen to the living room. Now she was twenty-two, and the chaos just came with bigger consequences.
“I think it’s cute.” Sarah shrugged again. “It was this or a face tattoo to impress my new friends.”
Rush scowled.
“She’s joking,” Rachel soothed immediately. Always the mediator. “It’s just a piercing. She can take it out.”
Rachel had moved back to Northfield after finishing nursing school to help with Pop and start her new job at Northfield General. She was always the steadier and more responsible of the two girls, but right now, Rush knew she was gearing up for another ambush.
“And by the way, it matters because we’re worried about you.”
Rush rubbed the bridge of his nose, already regretting where this was heading. “My kitchen sponge is new, Rach.”
“You’ve been through a lot this year. It’s okay to admit it,” Rachel said gently.
Rachel might have caused him fewer headaches over the years than Sarah, but she was harder to fool. Still, he’d never burden them with what lived in his head.
Sirens. Limp bodies. Blue lips.
His mind blocked the images quickly, same as usual.
The three of them had always been close, even with the ten-year age gap between him and Rachel. After the accident, his little sisters had clung to him like a lifeline. Rush had stepped into the role of protector without hesitation, guiding them through the move from Texas to New York, helping them settle in with Gran and Pop, doing his best to keep their world from falling apart. He took care of them in the best way he knew how, by protecting them.
But the accident on the canal had changed their dynamic, much as he hated to admit it. Lately, their roles had flipped. It was his sisters who hovered, calling and showing up at his house to check on him.
They were still young. They should be out living their lives. Falling in love. Traveling. Laughing. Not worrying if their big brother was unraveling one sleepless night at a time.
Icy-cold water. Blue, blue lips.
Jesus. Cold sweat broke out on his forehead. His skin went clammy.
A child whimpering. A blond head slipping beneath the black water.
He pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes as the gray specks flickered in his vision.
“I think you just need to get laid,” Sarah said, smearing on red gloss. “I have some girlfriends who think you’re hot. Something about the uniform and cuffs.” She made a gagging sound. “Gross. But I could give them your numberif you want?”
“Yeah,” Rush muttered automatically.
“What? For real?” Sarah’s face lit up. “I’m texting Monica now. She texts me every time you come into Maple and Main for coffee.”
Rush snapped back into the conversation, scowling. “What? Hell no.”
Lately, his mind had been doing that—drifting back to that night without warning. One second he was present; the next he was back in the water, the cold sinking into his bones and the sirens blaring in his ears. He shook it off. Now wasn’t the time.
“But you just said?—”
“Sarah,” he barked, “don’t you dare set me up with your friends again. They’re babies.”
“We’re not babies. We’re twenty-two,” she said indignantly. “And they date guys way older than you. You’re not still mad about what Monica did, are you? She said she was sorry.”
“Don’t say another word,” he growled, pointing at the screen. Good Lord. He wasn’t desperate, and even if he was, he still would never even consider dating one of Sarah’s friends.
Especially not after Monica. Monica, who’d snuck into his truck during the Fourth of July fireworks, wearing a tiny red bikini and smelling like spiked lemonade. By the time he’d found her, she’d taken her top off and was sprawled across the seat, snapping selfies like she was doing a damn photo shoot.
