he was real or not. Unsure of her welcome from him. As always, she was wary and nervous and easily injured.
As always, he’d be her strength, her protector.
“Neil. You’re here.”
Her words were soft and grateful, and so needy, it was like an elbow to the gut. Seeing her gave him that same hard tug of responsibility, the same punch of love he’d felt from the time he’d been old enough to realize it was up to him to take care of her.
Even if every once in a while he secretly, selfishly, wished she was strong enough to take care of herself.
He nodded, his throat tight with emotion. “I’m here.”
She held out her hand and he gripped her fingers. Her eyes, a lighter shade of blue than his own, were huge in her narrow face, her complexion pale, her hair a wild tangle of shoulder-length strawberry-blond curls. The years melted away. Gone was the grown woman Fay had become—a mother with two sons of her own. In Neil’s mind she was four years old again, gripping his hand like a lifeline, looking up to him as if he was her savior.
He’d been six.
The weight of her reliance on him, of his own sense of responsibility, pushed down on his shoulders, made it hard to take a full breath.
Funny how coming home made him feel like a fish out of water—floundering and gasping for air.
“Coffee’s done,” Gerry called.
With a final squeeze, Fay let go of Neil and walked ahead of him into the kitchen. “Good morning,” she told Carl, touching his shoulder. She gave Gerry a quick hug. “What can I do to help?”
“You can sit down,” Gerry said, whipping something in a bowl so quickly, her hands were a blur. “Save your energy to deal with those two boys when they get up.”
Fay picked up a pair of tongs and began transferring slices of crisp, cooked bacon onto a paper-towel-covered plate. “Luckily, they never wake before seven.”
Gerry set down the bowl and shooed Fay aside. “Still, I’ve got this under control. Sit down, have a cup of coffee with your brother.”
“I can get it,” Neil said, stepping into the middle of the room only to realize he had no idea where they kept the coffee cups. He’d bought this house for them eight years ago when he’d signed his first big contract, but hadn’t spent more than a day or two at a time here.
But it didn’t matter because Fay was already getting cups down from the upper cabinet to the left of the sink. Neil sat across from Carl while Fay poured coffee, sliding the carton of half-and-half toward Carl, handing Geraldine a pot holder without having to be asked.
The three of them were close. Affectionate. Comfortable together and with their respective roles: father, mother, daughter.
Neil was comfortable in his role as temporary houseguest.
He sipped his coffee. This must be what their mornings were like now that Fay and her two young sons had moved back home. Breakfasts together. Small talk about their plans for the day. A shared smile or soft laugh.
It wasn’t for him, wasn’t anything he’d ever wanted. But he was glad his sister had it. Glad Carl and Geraldine had come to Fay’s rescue. Even if part of him resented he’d been unable to do so. At least in person.
Fay was too thin, he thought, narrowing his gaze. Her pajama pants were baggy, the matching T-shirt hanging on her. She’d always been slight. Delicate. But now her slim frame bordered on gaunt, her cheekbones sunken, her collarbones standing out in sharp relief.
He’d take her out to lunch later, he decided with another sip of coffee. Make sure she was eating enough and not just playing with her food or spending all her time lying in bed with the curtains drawn.
The way Annie Douglas, their mother—their real mother—had every time she’d found out about another of her husband’s affairs.
“You look tired,” he said when Fay poured more coffee into his cup. Tired. Defeated. And so much like Annie with her wild hair and sad eyes, it was all he could do not to shake her. To demand she stop acting like the woman who’d washed down a handful of sleeping pills with a bottle of vodka, leaving her children to find her cold, dead body when they got home from school. “Why don’t you go back to bed? We can catch up later.”
And it’d give Neil a chance to question Geraldine and Carl about what really happened