Wyatt would, and probably has, called me flaky. I would say I’m just not tied down. Able to go where the wind takes me, just how I like it. Some fresh scent is on the air, I follow it.
All the trails out there I could be chasing, and somehow I let my sister-in-law Rory talk me into a several-month stint painting interiors of all the revamped and brand-new shops, homes, and businesses here in the Heights as part of their grand reopening of downtown.
Rory’s the head of a whole project that’s breathing new life into this place. She’s pretty passionate about it, I guess that’s how she won me over.
And ifshecan come back here and make a home here after what she (and my brother) went through, well, I guess I can’t really complain about a short stint where I’ll make a shitload of money and then be on my way again, can I?
Plus, some time with my first and only niece, I can’t say no to that. She’s probably the only thing I’m looking forward to at tonight’s “family dinner.”
Not much feels familial about it. A brother who can barely stand to hold a conversation with me. His first love, who I’ve hardly seen in almost fifteen years save a couple of short interactions and their wedding, plus her sister and their stepdad.
And me, the black sheep of the Grady family, at least in my brother’s eyes. The one who never lived up to the bar Wyatt set but still tried.
If my mom were here, that would make all of this better, but she and my stepdad don’t partake in this weekly tradition. I’ll be seeing her in a few more days, but she’s not here tonight to save me from this, beautiful buffer that she is between her boys.
When I pull up to the top of the hill and park in the gravel lot to the side of the modern cabin my brother built on the land our grandfather gifted him, it’s no shock to my system that no welcome committee is waiting for me. In fact, I don’t evensee anyone around from here, so I take a second to check the rearview mirror and blow out a big breath at my reflection—the only thing that follows me everywhere I go.
Forest green eyes that blend in with the scenery around me. Evergreen, like my smile. Golden skin, from so many days in the sun, on a dirt bike or a four-wheeler, over the last thirty-something years. Dark blond hair, a little longer than my mother prefers it, but none of my partners have ever complained about the mop of carefree strands.
Smile at the ready, I’m good to go, I guess. It’s all I have with me most days. My biggest weapon, my best defense, my sharpest offense. It can disarm damn near anyone.
Still don’t spot the others, even when I get out of the car. The large windows, set in thick, modern black frames, let you see into most of the modest house from outdoors, but there’s no sign of anyone in there. When my booted feet crunch over the gravel and around to the backyard (that’s underselling its scope, trust me), I finally spot them.
My brother and his wife, in each other’s arms at the back of the house, deep in conversation. A gruff look on his unshaven face, a warm expression on her much prettier one. She’s whispering something to him, and he gives the smallest of nods in return, listening intently, paying no attention my way.
A few more steps and I spot the rest of the invitees at a rustic-looking picnic table on the far side of the house. Trudging across the lawn, I can’t help the smile that breaks out on my face when I see my niece. She’s gotta be the cutest baby I’ve ever seen. Pink, chubby cheeks, soft shock of light brown hair. Adorable as all hell in a bright silk dress, bouncing on her grandpa’s lap, giggling as she reaches for her auntie sitting next to her.
“We’re so happy you don’t have your mama’s original beak, aren’t we, baby girl?” Lexi coos at the girl she’s fawning over, who’s gripping her aunt’s fingers for all she’s worth. “Yes, you’remuchprettier than she ever was, aren’t you?” Alexis shakes her head, rubbing her nose against the baby’s, wild hair shaking out around Lexi, as sweet giggles sound from the munchkin.
“Heard that,” Rory’s melodic voice snaps from where she’s crossing the distance to the table, a sharp bite in it that still can’t disguise a softness I’m not used to hearing from her just yet. Balancing a career, a marriage, and motherhood is working for her.
“I wasn’t trying to hide the truth, you’re a big girl, you can handle it,” Lexi tosses back in her throatier tone, not breaking eye contact with her sister’s mini-me.
“First of all, it was filler, okay, nothing surgical,” Rory starts off, touching the bridge of her nose, but their stepdad cuts in to stop that from spiraling.
“Am I going to have to separate you girls?” the oldest one at the table pipes up—though still barely in his mid-fifties—in his amused, husky drawl.
Lexi looks up, amusement splayed across her sharp features, but it abandons her face, swapped out for something that might be surprise, brows buried in her hairline, when she takes in my form in front of her, not my brother’s.
“West! No fucking way!”
“Fucking way,” I confirm with a single nod.
She gives our niece a kiss on the cheek before pulling one thick leg out from underneath the table to remove herself from a straddle across the bench and gives me a swift but hearty hug.
Alexis doesn’t bother with a trite insult, like “look what the cat drug in,” or “never thought I’d see the day.” She’s usually a little more clever with her insults, but then again, she and I have never had beef, and therefore our exchanges tend to be a bit less tumultuous than those with her sister, or even my brother by extension. Count my blessings for that too. She’s not one I’dwant to tussle with on the regular. Some poor fucker’s gonna have his hands full with her some year.
Her brown eyes, so similar to her sister’s, bounce between my own and what I presume to be my brother’s behind me, before the corner of her mouth pops up in a catty smirk. “Finally, the good-looking Grady is back in town.”
“Don’t tell me you’re a closeted cougar, Lex?”
“Pfft,” Alexis waves Aurora off. “Not the life for me, butobjectivelyspeaking, Weston is quite handsome, can we not admit that?”
“Please,” Rory scoffs with zero delay, right next to me at this point. She leans in and gives me a giant hug, rubbing my back and scratching it briefly with those claws of hers before pulling back. “My husband is the hottest motherfucker in this town.” Her cat-like eyes cut to me again. “No offense, Weston.”
I pop a shoulder at her. “You’re not hurting my ego, sis.”
Her eyes run down me in a way that’s assessing but not at all sexual—an unusual feeling for me—before she looks back at Wyatt. “I mean, Weston’s not bad, but he’s notthis.” Rory runs her arms over Wyatt’s chest and shoulders, then down his arms, all the ink there, and I pretend not to notice him shiver underneath her touch. Idefinitelydon’t pay attention to the way his eyes darken and the promise in them when he glares at her in return.
