up and walk down the hall to the foyer.
My heart pounds as I stand at the front door and take him in.
He hasn’t seen me yet.
He leans against one of the columns, hands in his pockets, head down. His boot is on, but it looks easier on him, as if he’s used to it. There are shadows under his eyes, and I figure they match mine.
“Thought you’d still be at the Combine,” I say as I step out onto the porch.
His head rises, blue eyes glittering as he takes me in, drifting over my hair and red lipstick. I take the perusal, glad I’m in skinny jeans, a fitted black shirt, and heels.
He can’t seem to find his voice. After a long moment, he finally does. “Charm, you’re so beautiful. I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever.” He rakes a hand through his hair and shakes himself. “Uh, the Combine ended earlier today.”
“Shouldn’t you be on your way back to Waylon?”
“All I wanted was to see you.”
I keep a few feet between us as I move in closer. “How did you get my address?”
“Penelope gave it up. Had to beg for it.”
I run my eyes over the boot. “How was Indianapolis?”
He looks away from me, taking in the shrubbery in the front, the ones Ma planted years ago. She takes special care with them and it shows.
“You’re the only one I wanted to tell, Charm. I ran and kicked ass. I took this stupid boot off and just took a chance.”
Paulie and Mattie appear at the door and step outside. “Just checking in,” Mattie says as he comes out and stands next to me.
Blaze straightens his stance and runs his eyes over them, trying to get a read on them, I assume.
I point them out in turn. “Blaze, meet my brothers. This one’s Paul. He married the nice girl down the street, had two babies, and helps Pop. He’s the favorite, but don’t tell Ma we know.”
Paulie grins, the expression an exact replica of our father’s. “Smartass.”
I nod my head at Mattie. “This one’s Matthew. He loves to give me a hard time about everything. He still lives at home and hates it,” I add with a smirk.
“Looked you up online, Townsend,” Mattie says. “Not bad. You look good, though if you don’t play baseball, you’re shit out of luck. We’re Yankees fans.”
Blaze huffs out a laugh. “I’m actually pretty good at baseball. Could have gotten a scholarship for it if I’d wanted to.”
“Of course you could have,” I murmur as they shake hands, my brothers and the man I love so much I’m finding it hard to breathe.
“What’s going on out here?” It’s Ma.
She walks out and frowns, her eyes running over Blaze, taking in the carefully pressed blue button-up shirt he’s got rolled up to his elbows, the long legs and the boot.
He nods his head at her. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Rossi.”
She stills at his voice, and I wonder if she hears that darkness inside the gold, the deep tone that resonates and wraps around your heart.
She murmurs a nice to meet you and just stares at us. I don’t know what she sees, maybe that I feel faint or that Blaze looks just as bad, his skin pale in the soft light from the porch.
Pop comes out next. A handsome man with laughing brown eyes like mine, he is surprisingly somber. He doesn’t look at anyone but Blaze.
“Heard you were the boyfriend. About time you got here. Frank Rossi.” He takes Blaze’s hand, and if the wince on Blaze’s face is anything to go by, he squeezes pretty hard.
“Yes, sir. Finished the Combine and took the first flight out from Indianapolis to get here. Glad to meet you. I apologize if I interrupted dinner.” His face is carefully shuttered, but those eyes, they’re bright and emotional and—
Joey P is next, sticking his head out the door with a questioning look on his face. “Who’s this?”
Ma never takes her eyes off Blaze. “Joey, be a dear and get the tiramisu out of the fridge then help Susan get the dessert plates out?” Her tone brooks no argument, and he hops to it, shrugging and going back in the house.
They make small talk with Blaze, asking questions about his flight, but all I can do is stare. Inside I’m flailing around like a chicken with its head cut off. He’s here—why?
He looks at them when they speak, but he always comes back to me, that