Becky pulls back, and for a second, I catch a misty hue over her brownish-green irises before she blinks it away. My chest squeezes as I lower her down to the floor, away from the mess I created, suddenly feeling self-conscious under her watchful gaze.
I didn’t know what to expect when I came back here, which was part of the reason I didn’t tell anybody I was coming in the first place. Anger and resentment, probably. Nagging about staying away, definitely. But this… the relief, thelove, on my sister’s face? Yeah, I didn’t see that coming. Not after everything I’ve put her through over the last few years.
Guilt slams into me, making panic clasp at my insides, but just as it’s about to take hold of me, Becky slaps me over the head before crossing her arms over her chest, her gaze throwing daggers at me. It’s her bossiest don’t-you-dare-mess-with-melook. I saw it one too many times during my teenage years when Becky was more like a mother to me.
“Matthew James Williams!”
I wince at the use of my full name. When my older sister pulls the middle name card, you know shit’s hit the fan.
“What the hell was that?” she grinds out.
Fuck.
She’s not asking about me being here, that’s for damn sure. Nothing escapes Becky’s attention. I suppose you could say it was a run-in with my past… friend? Is that what we were? Ex-classmate? Fuck if I know.
Then again, I couldn’t have exactly known that I’d collide into her the moment I stepped foot into this town. Or at all. I didn’t expect her to be so…her.I didn’t expect her. Period.
“I’ll help clean it up.”
Becky harrumphs. “That’s not an answer.”
Maybe not, but it’s the only answer I’m willing to give her.
“I’ve got it covered.”
I shift my gaze over my sister’s shoulder to find a short-haired brunette coming our way with a bucket and a mop. She flashes me a soft smile, and I narrow my gaze as I try to put a name to the familiar face.
“It’s fine, Rose, he can do it.”
Rose?
As in Rose Hathaway?
The same Rose who Becky used to curse at all the time, swearing she’s her archnemesis?
My sister takes the mop from her and shoves it into my hand. “He should get used to cleaning up his messes; apparently, he’s going to need it.”
Ouch.
“So much for the warm welcome,” I mutter as I take the mop. Crouching down, I grab the fallen cup, the stupefied expressionon Jessica’s face coming back to the forefront of my mind once again.
“Considering you didn’t deem it important enough to let anyone know you were coming home, you can’t blame us for not giving you a better welcome.”
Shaking my head, I push to my feet and toss it into the garbage. “I guess there is that.”
Becky’s arm slips around my waist. “I’m glad you’re home, though. How long are you staying? I hope you’ll at least be here for Jackson’s birthday.” She gives me a pointed look. “He would love to meet his uncle.”
“He’s one. I don’t think he even knows what an uncle is.”
“Maybe not.” She pokes me on the side. “But he understands love. And I want my son to know his family.”
Family.
Bile rises in my throat, leaving a bitter taste in my mouth.
Would she still look at me the same way if she knew the truth? Want me to be near her son? Her son, who is named after our father. A man who will never get a chance to meet him. Because of me.
“So how long do we get you for?”
