Margot
Nerves are usuallysomething that motivate me.
I get nervous, I use that as fuel to step up and own whatever situation I need to own.
Today, as I’m standing over the kitchen sink, rinsing out the rags that I used to clean up the carnage of my homemade security though, they’re making my stomach hurt.
Rhys, Decker’s friend, grunts in my direction from the doorway. “I’ll be back. Don’t booby-trap this place again.”
“I—” I start, then hear the door click shut.
“Won’t,” I finish on a sigh.
I slipped into the kitchen to rinse the rags when I heard him go into the bathroom fifteen or twenty minutes ago, after I’d already showered for the day, since I didn’t get to finish cleaning up last night.
And in five minutes, I’m meeting a brother I never knew I had.
In person.
Face-to-face.
That’s when my plans get real.
And when I discover if I’m enough all on my own for three guys who share DNA with me to want to call me family, and if so, if they’re the kind of family who’ll help you get justice for another sister they also didn’t know they had.
Only one of those is truly terrifying, and it’s not the part about justice.
I’m wringing out the last of the rags that I need to replace—these are spotted with purple hair dye—when there’s a knock at the door, and then it swings open. “Hello? Margie?” a guy calls.
I suck in a fast breath through my nose, then wipe my hands on a towel and turn toward the doorway into the living/dining room. “In the kitchen.”
A tall man with well-trimmed brown hair, warm blue eyes, and a smile peers in at me. He’s in slacks and a polo, with a short beard. “Hi. I’m Lucky.”
My heart tumbles all over itself and my eyes get hot and my stomach twists and a little voice in the back of my head whispersplease please please please please like me.
I’ve been communicating with Lucky over email for about three months now. He was working late yesterday, so he sent me the code to get into the cabin with instructions to text him if I had any issues.
So this is the first time we’ve met in person.
My half brother.
Someone I’m related to.
Someone I share genes with.
Someone who’ll help me answer the question ofis everything wrong with me nature or nurture?
I take a big gulp and smile, becauseoh my god, I have a brother.
“Margie,” I say, walking toward him and extending a hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”
He looks at my hand, then quirks a brow at me. “Not a hugger?”
“I—” Crap.
My eyes are already watering and my nose is already twitching with the urge to cry.
Hugs have been in short supply in my life, but I love when Daphne hugs me, so I nod. “I am.”
