1
Two Years Ago
Sterling, Virginia
Depositing his seventy-pound ruck just inside the foyer, Owen Metcalfe kicked the door shut behind him. “Mom?” He shed his backpack, never slowing as he aimed for the kitchen. “Mom, you here?”
Lights out, fridge humming noisily like always, the kitchen offered little welcome as he slid his truck keys onto the island. He checked the living room and hall for signs of life but came up empty. Huh. Where was she?
The rumble of his gut had him tug open the fridge and eye the contents. He grabbed a piece of leftover pizza. It wasn’t the on-the-fly fast-food kind that he’d had too many times on his last rotation, but the mom-and-pop, legit Italian place that was a Metcalfe staple. Folding the slice in half, he grabbed a paper towel and headed to the stairs. “Mom?” He stuffed half the pizza into his mouth and chewed, waiting for her response before ambling to the sliding glass doors that led to the North Forty backyard. The place his aunts and uncles had played many a game growing up. Nothing.
“So much for a ‘welcome home,’” he muttered and took another bite. Back in the kitchen, crust sticking out of his mouth, he snagged the last slice. “Serves you right for not being here?—”
The heavy thrum of the garage door rising reverberated through the house. He tossed the last piece back in the box and headed into the garage bay. Over the roof of her silver SUV, he saw Mom step out and move to the rear hatch. “Need help?”
His mom’s brown head and eyes swiveled his direction. She gave him a broad smile. “Hello, handsome.” Retrieving a satchel, she walked over and waved him into her arms for a hug as the hatch shut. “I thought you weren’t getting released on leave till tomorrow.”
He bent down to accept the embrace and kissed her cheek. “Got things tied up quicker than expected.” Please don’t ask if I’m okay. Or about the future.
“I’m glad.” She eyed him with an assessing look, then started into the house. “I take it you already raided the pizza.”
“One slice.”
“Dad left it for you, so have at it.”
His phone buzzed, indicating a text, and he eyed the screen.
Sophia
Glad you’re back. Bonfire at the ranch. 8pm. You’re my date.
With a sniff, he shook his head, hit the garage door button, and stepped inside. “Soph’s having a bonfire again.”
Mom nodded. “The twins’ graduation party.”
Dude, already? “Oh, right.”
His mom turned as she drew a glass down from the cabinet and arched an eyebrow. “You going?”
“Apparently I’m her date, so I guess so.” He opted to snag the last slice after all.
“Will you two ever make it real?” Mom asked as she filled her glass with filtered water from the fridge.
“Negative,” he chortled, biting back the laugh at the way his mom gave him a concerned look. “She’s my sister.”
“Tala is your sister,” Mom corrected. “Who’s doing great, by the way, not that you asked.”
“Tala is always okay,” he said. His half sister had gone off to New York to pursue a career in art and never looked back other than to provide occasional updates so Dad didn’t track her down and get in her face about communication and familial bonds.
“But Sophia Neeley is not your sister.” Hair down past her shoulders, Mom looked smart in a blouse and slacks. Had she been to an appointment? “There is no biological connection there, and?—”
“Like I need you to tell me that.” Owen sagged beneath her blinding flash of the obvious. “That dog will never hunt. She’s always been the kid sister I never had. And Scions have a strict no-dating rule. Too weird.” He grimaced and shuddered. “With Soph, I run interference for her at parties. Dudes are always in her face, asking for a date.”
“It wouldn’t hurt you two to?—”
“Nope.” He waved a hand in the air and nuked the pizza. “Not doing this. I’ve got another year on my contract, and nothing happens till then.” Though he had hoped to make Selection and go career with the Rangers, that hadn’t happened. And now failure hung over his head like an anvil.
In two large bites, he finished off the pizza and went for a protein bar from the pantry. The Spidey sense said Mom was about to unlock “mom mode” and start drilling him with questions and lectures, so he needed to beat her to the gate. “You look nice. Last-minute meeting?”
