over me, he leans his hip against the fence, and I marvel at how much he looks like our father. It’s uncanny, really, and for some reason, it makes my eyes water, and all thoughts of kicking him in the shins for scaring me fly out the window.
“Lord love a duck, London.” He huffs, hauling me into his arms.
Burying my face into his shirt, I let a single tear fall. “I missed you.”
“Missed you too, Bridge.”
My shoulders shake with laughter at the sound of my old nickname.
After giving me a squeeze, he pulls me away from him and playfully pretends to knock my chin with his fists a few times. “There she is.”
Owen started calling me London Bridge when we were little kids, and eventually, he shortened it to Bridge. Even though it’s an odd nickname, it took off like wildfire in our family. I was always falling off horses when I was younger, mostly due to the fact I thought I could ride anything. I was utterly fearless, and thus, Owen loved to chant, “London Bridge is falling down, falling down, falling down,” every time I took a tumble off a horse, which was often.
“You got old,” I tease, jabbing him in the stomach. Somehow, it manages to hurt me more than him, so I shake my wrist.
The playful lines in his face disappear. “How are you holding up?”
Shrugging, I let my eyes fall to the ground. “Fine.”
“Fine, eh?” he argues. “I saw the—”
“The magazine article. It’s bad. I know.”
“The guy’s a prick, London,” he growls, slinging an arm over my shoulders. “I bet you no one even read it.”
I arch an eyebrow at him as a smirk forms on my lips.
“Okay, well, maybe everyone probably read it.”
I wince outwardly at the idea that our small town has not only seen my failure displayed on their televisions, but also read the slaughtering of my career.
“Hardly changes the fact his face deserves to make its acquaintance with your scary big brother’s fists.”
“I think it defeats the purpose if you have to call yourself scary in order to get the point across.” I laugh, walking in step with him towards the house.
“Rude,” he protests, giving me a noogie. “You shouldn’t rain on people’s parades, London.”
“London!” a female voice shrieks.
Looking up, I see my little sister come barreling down the steps of the front porch, her hair whipping in the breeze.
It’s obvious we’re sisters. We both have Momma’s white-blond hair and blue eyes and Daddy’s dark eyelashes, but where I am more slender, Aurora is a twenty-two-year-old, curvy bombshell, and her heart is nearly an exact copy of our mother’s. While I guard mine and choose to protect its breaks by being hard, Aurora is so soft. She gives and doesn’t hold her love back from anyone.
She’s about to launch herself at me, when Owen catches her midair.
“Whoa, killer. Bridge is broken, remember?” he reminds her.
Swatting at his arms, she gripes, “I know, you goose. I wasn’t going to plow her to the ground.”
“Looked like it.” I laugh at the way she beams, even when she’s trying to come across angry.
After finally breaking free from our brother, she folds her arms around me. “I missed you,” she chokes out in little sobs into the crook of my neck.
“Hey,” I say, running my hand over her hair. “I’m sorry.” For what? I’m not exactly sure. For everything, probably. For not having been here as often as I should have.
“You guys are going to be the death of Dad with all of this crying!” Owen proclaims from somewhere beside us before his boot steps sound on the porch and the screen door closes.
Pulling away from me, Aurora palms my cheeks. “I’m sorry.”
I try to look away from her, but I can’t. I know what she’s sorry for. I know what everyone’s sorry for. But the look that comes with it is always the worst—pity. Instead of answering her, I nod.
Taking that as a cue, she wipes her cheeks off and nods toward the driveway. “Daddy went to get some wine for you. He’ll be back soon. You still drink wine, right?”
“Right.”
Daddy never keeps any in the house. I think that’s because it reminds him of Momma, and since Aurora doesn’t drink and Owen doesn’t live there, there’s no need to have it on hand.
“I cleaned up the apartment for you, and I put some snacks in the fridge, but I didn’t bother with too much food, as I figured you’d come eat with us