“Honey, we’re home,” Tyler calls out as soon as the front door opens.
I burst from my seat on the sofa, abandoning my Dean Koontz book, and bounce toward the sound of his voice. Torin blazes past me, a giant bag hefted over his shoulder, and nearly knocks me over in the process. Tyler chuckles as he grabs my elbow to keep me from falling.
“You’re back,” I chirp, trying to ignore the way my arm tingles where he has his grip on me.
“Just in time too,” he tells me with a wide grin as he drops a sack onto the floor near the door. “They’re on their way to deliver your car.”
I’d forgotten about my car until now. He grabs my hand and pulls me outside with him. The sun is bright in the sky, but it’s another chilly day. I wish I’d snagged something warmer before going outside. As if sensing I’m cold, Tyler wraps me up in a hug from behind. I melt against his sturdy chest. The heat surging through me is less temperature and more hormonal. Even though the embrace is platonic in nature, I can’t help but wish for his palms to roam all over me.
“What was in Torin’s bag?” I ask, turning slightly so I can look up at him.
He smiles down at me. “I’m not sure.”
We stare at each other for a moment. His hair is perfectly gelled in an imperfect style. Brown eyes gleam with happiness. Something seems off, though. Dark circles that are prominent in the daylight ring his eyes.
“Are you not sleeping well?”
His smile fades and his brows furrow together as he releases me. “Look,” he mumbles as he points down the drive. A semi-truck with several cars loaded down plugs along the driveway. I file away this moment to ask him about it later. Until then, I’m going to squeal like the teenage girl I am upon seeing my car.
“Oh my God!”
Tyler chuckles as he meets the driver. They exchange words and he signs some paperwork as I wonder how they’re going to get my cherry red Mercedes-AMG GT Coupe off the truck.
I want to ask him how much it cost, but I’m afraid to know the answer. That’ll shine a light on whatever it is I’m doing here, and surely, he’ll realize I’m not even close to the worth of this car. If hanging out with him and his brother is what he wants, I probably deserve a hunk of junk minivan like Guy’s.
“I’ll pay you back,” I tell Tyler. “I’ll get a job waiting tables or something.”
The driver snorts at my words as he begins pressing buttons on the back. “Darlin’, you’re going to have to do a whole lot more than wait tables if you ever plan on paying your daddy back for this puppy. What’d it set you back, buddy, one-fifteen?”
“One-twelve,” Tyler grits out. “She’s not my daughter and she’s not paying me back.”
The man laughs, deep and throaty from years of smoking. “Oh, I get it now.” He winks at us both. “If I had the money, you bet your ass I’d be some pretty little thing’s sugar daddy. No judgment here. Jealous as hell but no judgment.”
My skin heats and I gape at Tyler in horror. His lips are pressed together and he doesn’t seem happy at all. As the man unloads the car, I grab Tyler’s hand and tug at it to get his attention.
“One-twelve? What does that mean? That doesn’t mean what I think it means, does it?”
He regards me with a soft expression. “I told you, sweetheart, whatever you want.”
My eyes dart all over his face, searching for clues that he’s lying. Hell, I’m just trying to figure out his angle at this point. But he stares down at me with longing. Sadness. Desperation. I don’t understand him or us or this. It’s all so weird.
And yet…
I’m not asking to go back to Guy.
I’m not calling my social worker.
I’m accepting the keys from the truck driver.
I’m waving as he drives off.
I’m staring at my car that costs more than most people’s homes.
“Tyler,” I utter, my voice shaky. “I don’t know…”
“Just go with it,” he urges as he strides past me to the car.
Tyler is so breathtakingly handsome that all I can do is stare. His charcoal-gray slacks hug his firm ass perfectly. Makes me want to bounce the penny in my pocket off his butt. This man looks appropriate approaching an expensive car—as though it belongs to him.
Me, though?
I probably look like I’m figuring out a way to steal it.
“Know how to drive a stick?” he calls out over his shoulder.
“No.” I cross my arms over my chest and shiver.
“I’m going to teach you.” He flashes me a smoldering grin. “Hop in, Casey.”
“You’re getting better. You didn’t kill it when we stopped.”
I am more confident. For the past three hours, we’ve driven everywhere. At first, I was terrible and I thought the engine was going to blow up a couple of times. I’d expected Tyler to yell at me. All he did was laugh and explain the correct way to do it.
He was patient as he taught me.
Like a father would be to his daughter.
That thought confuses me. Some moments I’m attracted to him and wonder if he wants sex. Other times, I’m thankful for his friendship and affection. Problem is…I don’t know how to read Tyler. He’s an enigma. He has to be hiding something. People aren’t this nice all the time.
“There you go, sweetheart,” he says as he pats my hand that’s resting on the gearshift. “You’re a natural.”
The sun is setting as we exit the car and walk up to the house. Wind howls and I can smell the promise of snow in the air. For the first time, I don’t dread it. There won’t be long walks through the cold-ass snow to the bus stop. There won’t be finicky heaters in foster homes. There won’t be worry over the fact that my gloves have a hole in them.
I’ll be safe.
I’ll be warm.
I’ll be home.
A smile ghosts over my lips until I catch Tyler’s expression. He grimaces and pinches his eyes shut.
“You okay?” I question, reaching for his elbow.
He nods. “Headache. I’m going to go lie down. I’ll see you at dinner.”
As he rushes in the house, the stirrings of uneasiness creep in. The house is incredibly warm, which has my smile slowly tugging at my lips again. I’m beginning to learn the main parts of the house and easily make it back to my room. The first thing I do is plop down in front of the blazing fire. Sitting on the hearth is a shiny penny.
I pick it up and revel in the fact that it’s hot to the touch.
“Thanks, Torin.”
I’m not sure if he’s nearby, but I voice the words anyway.
“What’s this?” I demand as Tyler pushes a folded piece of paper across the table toward me after dinner. With his headache long gone, he’s back to his normal chipper self. Torin remains at the table long after we’ve eaten for the first time since I’ve been here. I want to keep stealing glances at the mystery guy, but I’m concerned about the paper in front of me.
“It’s a list.” Tyler lifts a brow. “Open it.”
I open the flap and stare. Ingredients. So many ingredients. “Ummm, okay.”
“Casey-Casey,” Torin utters and slaps the table hard.
Jolting at the sound, I jerk my attention his way. He snatches the paper out of my hand.
“Turkeycranberrystuffinggreenbeancasserolecornrollspumpkinpiemashedpotatoesgravypecanpiemacaroniandcheese,” Torin rattles out all in one word before slapping the paper back down on the table.
“Exactly,” Tyler says, grinning. “We’re making a list for Thanksgiving. It’s coming up and I want to make sure we get everyone’s favorites.”
I frown because Thanksgiving isn’t exactly my favorite holiday. Tyler looks downright excited about it. I fidget in my chair as I think about my past Thanksgivings. Cold turkey. Lumpy potatoes. Not enough to go around and be satisfied.
“Great.” I flash Tyler what I hope is a believable smile.
Of course he sees straight through me somehow because now his brows are knitting together as though he’s sad. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“You don’t have to eat it all. We can make some of your favorites too,” Tyler offers.
“DEVILLED EGGS!” Torin hollers.
I wince at his yelled words, my attention back on him. The normally stoic and troubled Torin seems excited. His brown eyes glitter with an emotion I haven’t seen from him so far. He may be all sharp features and frowns, but his eyes are smiling. It makes my heart seize up in my chest.
“One time, one of my foster parents’ neighbors brought over a sweet potato dessert. It was better than what I’d had before because they topped it with brown sugar and pecans rather than marshmallows. Maybe we could have that?” I offer, desperately wanting to make both of them happy.
“Sweet potatoes,” Torin whispers, his brown eyes snapping to mine and locking there. His hood is pulled up over his head, but he’s no longer hiding.
I blink at him, a deer caught in a pair of headlights. Having his intense stare on me is paralyzing. I’m so curious about him, but I’m also slightly uneasy because he’s so unpredictable. Regardless, I know more goes on inside that head of his than he lets on.
Grinning at Torin, I nod. “It sounds lovely.”
His lips twitch and then he slaps the table before bolting in true Torin fashion. Simply here one moment and gone the next. When I look over at Tyler, his features are haggard. Heavy tears sit on his lids, sucking the breath right from me. I’ve never seen him so upset.
“W-What is it?” I choke out, my own emotion threatening to pull me under.
He blinks away the moisture and glances my way. “He responds to you.” His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. “It’s magical, Casey.”
I’m about to speak when he changes the subject, his happy face back on. While he rattles on about his mother’s cookbook, I study Tyler. He wears masks. He wears them for Torin and now me. For a moment, it slipped. Come to think of it, I’ve seen it slip a few times. Now that I know he’s wearing one, I’m ultra-aware.
Why are you hiding the real you, Tyler Kline?
“…and we’ll cook the meal—”
“Wait. Hold the phone. Did you just say we’ll cook the meal?” I blurt out. “Isn’t that what Ethel is for?”
Tyler throws his head back laughing and it does wonders to lift my mood. “Of course we’ll cook it, silly. That’s what Thanksgiving is all about. Ethel will want to have Thanksgiving with her own family, as will Ronnie. It’ll just be you and me and Torin.” His eyes land on mine. “My family.”
A softness settles in my heart. I’ve gone nearly eighteen years simply getting by. Floating along from “family” to “family,” never really settling on one. For once, I’ve fallen into a family that seems as though they want me here with them. Tyler claims it’s for the company. Maybe it is. Maybe he saw a lonely soul and wanted me to haunt this big, creepy house along with them. Torin and Tyler are strange brothers, no doubt. But I’m a strange girl.
We fit.
Truly, we do.
And I’m happy.
Doubt and depression and disappointment are no longer on the forefront of my mind. I don’t count seconds until my birthday. I’m enjoying life with these two.
“I’m probably a terrible cook,” I say with a laugh, loving the way my blood rushes through my veins on a natural high.
“Torin’s the worst, but that’s what makes it so fun.” He beams at me. “Will you ruin Thanksgiving dinner with us?”
I scrunch my nose. “You’re serious.”
“Deadly.”
“We’re not ruining Thanksgiving dinner,” I tell him haughtily. “Not if I’m actually going to be a part of this.”
Tyler leans back in his chair and his brown eyes twinkle with delight. “You know how to cook?”
I arch a brow. “Nope, but I’m a quick learner.”
“Good girl. Meet me in my office. We’ll look up recipes there.”
He rises and strides from the dining room with a pep in his step.
I’m making these people happy. Me. Cocaine Casey. The baby girl left in the snow because her mother was too cracked out to care for her. Foster kid with an annoying habit of making obnoxious sounds and saying inappropriate things.
Perhaps my future isn’t on the other side of eighteen, on the other side of the country.
Perhaps my future is right here on this side of eighteen and inside this house.
I push the chair back and skip along the dark hallways, picking up pennies along the way.
Thank you, Torin.
I have a family Thanksgiving dinner to plan.