of us had performed countless times on our own, and I could do it half-asleep.
Turn on the small lamp on her nightstand.
Adjust the framed picture of her and Beth so that Anya could see it easily.
Adjust the canopy so it enclosed as much of her bed as possible.
Stop just before I left her room, blow her a kiss, which she caught and smacked over her mouth.
But my smile dropped as I descended the stairs down to the main floor, where my brothers Beckham and Deacon waited for me.
They were on the floor of the sprawling family room, assembling something pink and white and covered in glitter.
“What is that?” I asked.
Deacon brought a glittery crown up to his forehead. “I think it’s supposed to be one of those vanity things.”
My eyebrows rose slowly. “Who bought her that?”
“Eloise,” they said in unison.
“Ahh.” Our youngest sibling had taken to purchasing anything Anya could possibly want since we moved here. My parents weren’t much different, given she was the only grandchild—which meant the only niece for my four unmarried siblings. If Anya wasn’t a complete monster by the time she turned ten, it would be a miracle.
With a weariness I felt in every bone and muscle, I sank down onto the couch while they continued to work.
“What was it tonight?” Beckham asked.
I sighed. “The canopy. She wasn’t sure it was centered over her bed.”
His face cracked into a smile as he screwed a leg onto the small white vanity bench. “Clark hung it,” he said by way of answer.
Which meant yes, it was centered. Our middle brother, aka genius boy, was never wrong when it came to things like that.
“I should go up with a measuring tape just in case she’s still awake.”
Beckham and Deacon shared a look.
“What?” I asked.
“You sure you should still be indulging her?” Beckham asked. His eyes stayed firmly planted on the furniture, though.
My fingers found the bridge of my nose and pinched tight. “No, I don’t know that. But if either of you have any helpful advice in how to help a seven-year-old girl who lost her mom, then I’m open to suggestions.”
“Maybe you should take her to talk to someone if she’s still doing stuff like this.”
“It was getting better back in LA.” I dropped my hand and studied the crisscrossing scars along my knuckles. “Once she gets used to this house and her new school, it’ll get better here too.”
“It’s been two years, Aiden,” Deacon added.
Like I didn’t know when my wife died. I could’ve counted the days with ease. Without looking at a calendar, I knew how many hours it had been. Maybe even down to the minute, if I had Clark’s skill with numbers. A pervasive emptiness came from losing the person you loved, and maybe that emptiness eased with each passing minute and hour and day, turning into something manageable, but it was always there.
But instead of telling him that, of trying to explain to someone who didn’t have a family of his own and had never loved someone whose loss would carve a hole into his being, I simply nodded. “I know.”
One of the strangest things about being back was moments like this, when my younger brothers helped me. With anything, honestly. Not just that they’d been here every day doing things like hanging hot pink tulle canopies and assembling princess vanities, but they were giving me parenting advice.
The stool assembled, Beckham set it on the floor and gave the cushioned seat a pat. “Not bad. Maybe I have a future in furniture assembly.”
Without looking up from the vanity, Deacon pointed at the front leg. “That’s on backward.”
“The hell it is.” Beckham turned it over, then cursed under his breath.
It was easier to smile than it had been leaving Anya’s room. My brother’s worry only underscored my own. My daughter, seven going on seventeen, was smart and sweet and a complete daredevil. But come bedtime, when the dark took over the skies, she let every fear in her head take the wheel.
“Beer in the fridge?” I asked.
Deacon looked up, then nodded. “Might not be cold yet.”
“Fine by me.”
The house was unpacked, even if it was light on the furnishings. Our bungalow in LA was half the size—and twice the cost—as the home I’d found for Anya and me overlooking Lake Sammamish in Bellevue. And the fridge was no different than the rest of the house. Just shy of empty. Inside was a case of beer, leftover pizza, deli meat, and whatever my mom