The drive to my sister’s house is laced with the same tense silence we suffered through on the way to Lindy’s party. If that’s a sign of the night to come, maybe I should have chosen to stay home.

Mason parks on the street in front of Sarah’s mustard-yellow split-level and cuts the engine. I reach for the handle, but he grabs my hand before I can open the door. “I’m sorry I’ve been in a shitty mood all afternoon.”

Today’s been hard—his father’s visit was a reminder that my time with Mason has to be temporary, and then he questioned me about it and I felt as if I’d been caught in a lie. “It’s fine.”

“It’s not.” He squeezes my hand. “I’m fucking jealous, Bailey. I walked in and saw you working on that scrapbook, and I just felt like Nic was back in our lives. I have you living in my house and sleeping in my bed, but you’re still spending your days thinking about him.”

I snap my head up, and he’s studying me with those intense green eyes. Is that what he was upset about? The pictures? “Oh, shit, Mason. I’m sorry.” I should have realized the reminder of Nic would upset him. “It’s not like I’m fantasizing about Nic. I just have more free time living here than I’ve had in a long time, and I’ve been meaning to get that project done forever. But it can wait. If it upsets you, I can finish it after I move back home.”

He closes his eyes and turns away. “It’s not where you do it that upsets me. Only that you want to.”

“They’re just pictures. Memories.” And they’re not for me.

“I think you’re wrong about me,” he says, turning back to me.

“About what?”

“You think I’m spoiled. That I get everything I want.” He shakes his head. “You’re the only thing I’ve ever wanted enough to fight dirty for, and your heart still belongs to him.”

My chest aches, because he doesn’t understand, and I want him to. I reach across the console and place my hand on his shoulder. If he knew Faith was mine, he would understand why I was making the scrapbook. But I promised my sister that I wouldn’t tell anyone, because she doesn’t want it getting back to Faith before she’s ready.

Why do we make prisons for ourselves with our promises?

Maybe his jealousy of Nic is a blessing. Maybe when I have to leave, he’ll let himself believe I’m still pining for my first love. Maybe he’ll never have to know how low I had to sink to do what I thought was right. Maybe he’ll never have to hate me.

He looks at my hand on his shoulder, and silence grows between us like a heavy weight on my heart. He lifts his eyes to mine, and in one second, he’s sitting there looking at me, and in the next, he’s kissing me.

He sucks my bottom lip between his teeth and cups my face in his hands. He nips at my lips and strokes my jaw, then fists a hand in my hair and deepens the kiss until I want to crawl over the console and straddle him.

When he breaks the kiss, I’m breathless. I turn my face into his hand and press my lips against his open palm.

“Does your heart belong to him, Bailey?” He swallows. “Do I even stand a chance?”

I wish he’d only asked the first question. The second is so much more complicated. “Nic was my first love, but I didn’t die with him.”

Someone knocks on the window, and I look up to see a broad-chested guy. He points both index fingers at us and winks before turning and heading into the house.

“That must be Brandon,” I say. I reach for my gift from the floor and open my door. The guy looked really amused about catching me and Mason together in the car, but I’m afraid my sister will be less amused. In her mind, our kiss will be “making out” in front of her house, a sign of my immaturity.

I grab the present, and Mason and I climb out. The car chirps when he hits the button. He plants a quick kiss on the top of my head, then takes my hand as we head to the house, where my sister is already waiting in the doorway, Brandon standing behind her and grinning at us like the huge fan of Mason that Sarah said he was.

“Nice shirt,” Sarah says as she holds the door for us.

I look down at the T-shirt I threw on with my jeans this morning. It says, I can’t adult today. I paste on a smile and pretend her judgment doesn’t faze me. “Thanks.”

“You must be the husband,” she says, turning to Mason and offering a hand. “Bailey’s told me a lot about you over the years, though it would have been nice if she’d told me about the wedding, too.”

Mason grins and shakes her hand. “I would love to know exactly what she said about me.”

“All good stuff,” I say, and I realize Sarah isn’t just blowing smoke to make this less awkward. I have told her quite a bit about Mason. He’s been a fixture in my life for a long time now. I don’t want to imagine a time when he’s not.

“This is my boyfriend, Brandon,” Sarah says.

The guy from out front grins at us. “Super stoked to meet you both. Sorry if I . . . interrupted something out there.”

“You didn’t,” I lie, and Mason shoots me a look.

Faith runs out of the back room, and I hide her present behind my back. She wraps her arms around my legs. “Aunt B! Did you bring my present?”

“Was I supposed to bring you a present?”

She releases my legs and props her hands on her hips, narrowing her dark eyes at me. She looks so much like Mia when she does that, and it makes my heart tug with guilt over the secrets I’ve kept from my best friend. Mia’s never met Faith. I’ve never given her the opportunity or reason to believe she might want to. Some secrets we have to bury deep.

“You’re teasin’ me,” Faith says.

I grin and pull the wrapped box from behind my back.

“Whatisit, whatisit, whatisit? Can I open it, Mommy?”

My sister nods. “Yeah, baby. Go ahead.”

“I’m not a baby anymore. I’m six years old, you know.”

“I’m sorry. It’s easy for me to forget.”

“Because you’re getting old,” Faith says, matter-of-fact.

“Right. Because I’m getting old.” Sarah laughs. She seems lighter today, more at ease with my presence than usual. I study her, hoping this is the beginning of a new trend.

Faith unwraps the gift with gusto, shredding the paper and letting it fall to the floor before opening the box and gasping. “New tap shoes!” She looks up at her mom and pulls them from the box. “Look, Mommy! Aunt B got me new tap shoes! I wanted these so much. Mine are old. They’re hand-me-downs from Britney Haller, and she makes fun of me when she sees me wearing them, but Mommy said I shouldn’t let that bother me because Britney’s just trying to act cool, but I still wanted new ones that were mine and never anyone else’s and you got them for me.” She clutches them to her chest and dances in a little circle. “Yay!”

I watch my sister, waiting for some sign that this was a bad choice, that I’ve embarrassed her somehow, but she only gives a small smile as she meets my eyes and mouths, Thank you.

I exhale the breath I didn’t realize I was holding. I feel lighter than I have all day.

“Best. Birthday. Ever,” Faith says. She kicks off her sandals and slides into her new tap shoes.

That could be Mia’s little girl.

The thought has buzzed through my head since the second I spotted Bailey’s niece, and I feel like a racist jackass. Thinking that a little Latina girl looks like my closest Latina friend is just as bad as someone thinking I look like Reggie Miller because we’re both black dudes with green eyes.

Seriously, I want to punch myself in the face for being one of those idiots who thinks all people of one ethnicity look alike. I’ve never been like that, but every time I look at Faith, I see Mia.

Bailey’s on cloud nine after Faith’s reaction to her gift, and her eyes follow the girl everywhere as she dances around the living room, showing off and talking at a hundred miles an hour. No, it’s not that I think she looks similar to Mia. It’s as if she could be Mia’s daughter. If Mia and Arrow had a little girl, she would totally look like Faith.

Is it her eyes? Her smile? It’s both, and it’s more than that.

Brandon approaches me and offers a hand, pulling my creeper-like attention away from Faith. He’s almost as tall as me and has the big barrel chest of a guy who likes his beer as much as his bench press. “I can’t tell you how awesome it is to meet you. When I saw that video and realized you were Sarah’s brother-in-law, I couldn’t believe it. I watched you all last season. I’m a huge fan.”

“I appreciate that.” I look to Bailey, who’s been coaxed into a dance with the birthday girl. “Thanks for inviting us. It means a lot to Bailey to be here.”

“Of course. You two are welcome over here anytime!”

That’s not the way I understand it. Saying as much will only add to the tension between sisters, so I only smile. “Thanks a lot. We’d love to have Faith come over sometime. Does she like to swim?”

“Oh, man, she’s like a fish. Just try getting her out of the water! That would be fantastic. I’ll definitely talk to Sarah and get something worked out.”

“That would be awesome. Thanks.”

He beams. “So how was training camp? Are you ready for regular season to kick off?”

I shift gears, prepared to talk football all night if it’s going to help butter this guy up so Bailey can spend more time with her niece. He’s a nice enough guy. He gushes a little, throwing out stats to impress me and mixing up some of my plays with some of Owen’s from last season. It’s no big deal, though. I know he means well, and he’s obviously a fan of the team.

But through our whole conversation, I can’t take my eyes off Bailey and the way she looks at that little girl. Maybe someday when I’m an uncle I’ll understand how it feels not to get the time I want with my niece or nephew. Even without that experience, I can imagine it would tear me apart if my sister kept her child from me. Family’s important. As fucked up as mine is, I know that. And I get it. Sarah’s conservative and doesn’t like the choices Bailey’s made, and Bailey . . . well, she’s made some bad choices. Nic Mendez. Stripping. Hell, I’d even add staying in Blackhawk Valley to her list of bad choices, but that’s probably just me wanting to pull her away from the ghost of her former lover. I swear he tried to bury her with him.

Faith appears in front of me and tugs on the hem of my shirt. “We’re going to Applebee’s for dinner.”

Brandon grimaces. “Oh, is that okay with you and Bailey?”

Sarah wrings her hands. “Maybe we don’t have to choose Applebee’s, Faith. Bailey and Mason might want to go somewhere else.”

“But it’s your favorite, too,” Faith whines at her mom. She looks at Bailey. “It’s my birthday and Mom’s Mommy-versary, because this is the day she adopted me. Please say we can go to Applebee’s. Please, please?”

I’m pretty sure this offer is for my benefit, since I’m the guy in the room who pulls in the most money each year, so I’m quick with my response. “I love Applebee’s.”

Faith cheers. “Do you like the chicken fingers, too?”

“They’re the best.”

“Yes!” She pumps her fist in the air and pretty much steals my heart. Then, in a flash, I don’t just see Mia in this little girl’s smile.

I see Bailey.