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She looked up and met the pensive stare of her sister. Twenty-plus years of silence pressed in around them, thick and suffocating.

And Felicity had no idea where to begin.

“I didn’t know how to do this,” Rae admitted quietly.

“You could’ve told me you were coming,” Felicity muttered.

“I know.”

Silence settled again. Until Felicity couldn’t stand it. “Why didn’t you?”

“Honestly?”

She nodded.

“I didn’t want you to disappear on me.”

Oh. She hung her head, further shame washing over her.

Xena leaned against Felicity’s leg, causing her to shift and brace against the weight.

“She likes you,” Rae said, her tone lightening.

Felicity glanced down at the dog, then back at her sister. “Probably smells my dogs.”

Rae blinked. “You have dogs?”

“Not by choice. I inherited them.”

Her sister huffed a soft laugh. “That sounds like a story. How about you tell me over coffee?”

“Sure.”

Beau — she’d forgotten the man was still there — cleared his throat. “I’ll get going. Leave the two of you to catch up. See you later,” he said, touching Rae’s shoulder.

His attention shifted to Felicity. “You good?”

She blinked at the question, at the quiet concern behind it. “Yeah.”

He held her gaze a second longer, as if making sure, then gave a short nod and headed for his vehicle.

And just like that, it was only the two of them.

Felicity drew in a breath, bracing herself as she turned back to her sister. “I could do with that coffee.”

“Come.” Raegan locked up behind them and led the way through the mudroom into the kitchen. It was Felicity’s first time in the house, but she knew from local gossip that Beau and Rae had fixed it up and lived in it for a few months before Rae left. Beau had simply closed it up after his wife vanished, and he and Kismet had moved into the apartment above the garage.

The kitchen was open to the dining room, a large island separating the two areas, which is where Felicity took a seat as Raegan moved around preparing coffee. “How do you take it?” she asked.

“Black.” A sister should know. Another mark against you, Felicity.

The silence was heavy, broken only by the gurgle of the machine, the clink of ceramic, and slap of leather on tile as Raegan moved around. Too soon, she carried two steaming mugs to the counter, setting one before Felicity, taking the catty-corner seat.

Felicity itched to light up a cigarette, her nerves strung tight. She lifted the mug, taking a careful sip. It was too hot, and she set it down again.

Raegan reached over and placed a hand over hers, squeezing lightly. “Thank you for uprooting your life, coming here.”

“It was the least I could do.”