Page 10

Growing up, my brother and I were best friends. For a while, I was sure Caitlin would be an only child. I can’t pretend I was thrilled when I got that second positive test—I’m pretty sure I cried for a week straight, while Piper and Landon looked after me and Caitlin. But when I heard the heartbeat and saw the little blob that would grow into James, I knew in my bones that he was meant to be with us, and that the two of them would be as close as Landon and me.

When I follow Piper into her den, I find my kids on her pink sectional with a half-spilled bowl of popcorn between them. Caitlin is singing at the top of her lungs, while James watches her like she’s a famous superstar.

I take a second, just soaking in the sight of them together. One day, they’ll be too old to watch TV together; one day they’ll spend more time with their friends than together; one day they’ll go off to live their lives as adults— I swear every time I close my eyes, I open them and they’re somehow older. But, for now, they’re best friends.

Caitlin finishes her song with a flourish, and Piper and I applaud her. The kids look over at us, smiling widely.

“Are you gonna watch with us, Mama?” James asks, patting the couch beside him.

“Not just now.” I step fully into the room and crouch in front of them. “I wanted to talk to the two of you about something.”

“Is it bad?” Caitlin asks, as Piper sits beside her, putting an arm around her shoulders. She’s always been too good at picking up on other people’s feelings.

“Nothing bad,” I promise, squeezing her knee. “We’re going to have someone staying with us for a little while. You met him earlier. His name is Killian, and he’s a friend of your dad’s.”

Caitlin frowns, like she’s trying to make sense of the idea. They’ve never met anyone who knows Dom. “Is Daddy coming too?”

“Nope. Just Killian.”

“When is Daddy coming to see us?” Caitlin asks, and my heart sinks into my stomach.

Caitlin asks about Dom every now and then, and I never know how to answer. I can’t tell if she misses him or just hates the uncertainty of never knowing when he’s coming, but it doesn’t matter. I should be able to tell my kids when their dad is visiting so they’re not blindsided every time. Hell, I should be able to tell them when he’s going to call, instead of disrupting their bedtime routines a couple of times a week, when he calls without warning me.

I don’t know if I’m more pissed off at Dom for putting me in this position, or myself for letting myself get into this position. But I do know I’m the only one dealing with the consequences.

“I’m not sure. But I think you’ll like Killian. He’s really nice.”

She shrugs, brushing off the mention of her dad in the way only a kid can. “Okay. Does he like horses?”

“I don’t know, but he’s waiting for us at home, so I bet you could ask him.” I hold out a hand, and the kids jump to their feet.

James takes my hand, and clings to my side, while Caitlin skips ahead, following Piper to the front door.

“Be careful,” Piper warns me, before we head out. “If you’re even a little uncomfortable, call me or Landon. Promise me.”

“I promise.”

I’m halfway across the street when Piper calls, “Send me a picture of him!”

5

Killian

It only takes me a minute of standing in Scarlett’s living room to realize that this isn’t a house, it’s a home. There are traces of her and the kids all over, like they’re knitted into the very fabric of the place.

Everything is a little worn out, like the frayed pillows on the couch, and the threadbare rug under the chipped and watermarked coffee table. There are toys and children’s books dotted around the room, and what looks like a handmade bear riding on a tiny saddle that’s strapped to the arm of the couch. One of the wall sconces by the TV is missing a lightbulb, and the other flickers every now and then, but the kids’ toys all look in perfect condition.

The wall is covered in mismatched frames, with pictures of the kids and people I don’t recognize. An older couple—Scarlett’s parents, I assume. A man with the same dark, soulful eyes as Scarlett, dark brown hair, a mustache, and a younger version of Caitlin on his shoulders—Landon. A blonde woman around Scarlett’s age with a grin in every picture. Piper, probably. There aren’t many of Scarlett, but I find some of her and Piper—one on what looks like their high school graduation day, one of the two of them smiling in an empty dorm room. Just a few months after that, Scarlett met my dad. Fuck. She looks so young. She was so young.

There are pictures of him too. Holding a baby in a pink blanket, smiling at Caitlin as she blows out two candles on a princess-themed cake. There are no pictures of him alone with James, but there’s one of the four of them in the hospital. Scarlett looks exhausted, holding James in one arm, with Caitlin lying beside her. Caitlin is looking at her brother like he’s the coolest thing she’s ever seen, and my dad is standing off to the side, smiling at Scarlett. You could crop him out of the picture and not even notice the absence of him.

I wander, making my way into the kitchen, where the dining table is covered in crayons and sheets of printer paper. I can already tell who drew what—horses for Caitlin, tractors and Christmas trees for James. I haven’t seen any Christmas decorations around the house. We’re a few days away from December, but the whole town seems to have started celebrating already.

A dripping sound catches my attention, and I cross the kitchen to try and turn it off. But no matter how much I tighten the tap, it keeps on, a slow and steady drip. I make a mental note to track down a toolbox and see if there’s anything else Scarlett needs help fixing up. I have no doubt she could do it herself, but there are only so many hours in the day, and I’m already not sure how she’s juggling two kids, a job, and a home all on her own. It’s impressive as hell.

I sit at the table and send a message to let my mom, Ronan, and Fallon know that I’m going to be staying longer. Fallon is quick to reply, asking if I’m going to confront our dad, and I can’t deny the thought is tempting. But there’s more than my anger toward my dad to think about now.

What happens when the rest of the Michaelsons find out there’s a secret branch of our family tree? We’re a close family; they’re going to want to get to know Scarlett and the kids, and I can only imagine how confusing it’ll be for an eight-year-old and a four-year-old who had no idea any of us existed.