Page 106 of Killer Kiss

29

AUGIE

Ididn’t think I’d ever been as nervous as I was while holding Ophelia’s hand, walking up the path to my brother’s door. Sweat beaded on the back of my neck, despite the cold weather that should have had me shivering.

Lia squeezed my hand reassuringly. “Head up. Smile. You’re okay.”

But I wasn’t. This felt like someone had offered me everything I’d ever wanted on a silver platter. I was either going to take it graciously, carry it carefully to a table, and place it down without a single thing going wrong.

Or I was going to flip the damn platter in the air and watch the entire thing rain down, each item smashing to pieces on the tiled floor.

The opportunity was there.

It was mine to ruin.

Which was exactly what I always did.

I held Lia’s hand like she was a fucking life raft in a stormy sea and forced my trembling finger to push the doorbell.

“You’re a good man, Augie. The fact this means so much to you is proof you aren’t the man you were the last time you were here. They’ll see that if you let them.”

Her words were soft and kind, and fuck, I so badly wanted to believe them.

The huge wooden door swung open, and Banjo stood on the other side, a white knitted sweater only accentuating the last of his summer tan. I did a quick check over my own outfit. Clean jeans, a button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled to my elbows because I couldn’t handle how the little buttons made me feel like I was in handcuffs. And a black, smart casual jacket over the top.

Didn’t seem terribly out of place with his outfit. At least there were no ties in sight. I was sure I would choke if I ever had to wear one.

Banjo stepped out of the way so Lia and I could come inside. Warmth hit me in the face pleasantly. There was no heating at my place, which only sucked for about one month of the year, since Saint View never got cold enough for snow. But the heat felt nice, and I shrugged out of my jacket.

Banjo took it, as well as Lia’s coat, hanging them both in the closet to the right of the door, and then he grinned at me. “You good?”

I nodded. “Yeah. You?”

He laughed. “Yep.” His gaze slid to Ophelia. “I’m Banjo. We never officially met.” He stuck his hand out.

Ophelia took it, squeezing his fingers. “Ophelia. It’s really nice to meet you outside of a hospital corridor. This house is amazing.”

Banjo gestured around proudly. “It is pretty cool, isn’t it? Still blows my mind that I get to live here and that my college tuition is all paid for.”

I raised an eyebrow. “It is? But you didn’t get a scholarship. I just assumed you had student loans…”

But that was probably a stupid assumption when you considered the house he lived in.

He shoved his hands in his pockets, almost guiltily. “Selina, Lacey’s aunt, left me a college fund and a sum of money when she went to prison.” He cringed, looking over at Ophelia. “I swear, that isn’t actually as bad as it sounds. It’s a long story and probably not one I should have been blabbing about during our first official hosting of family dinner.”

Ophelia laughed, following Banjo through the rooms of the house. “It’s fine. Every family has their skeletons, right?”

“I can’t believe a Mitchell actually has money in the bank and will soon have a college degree,” I said, a little in awe of my brother and the path his life had gone down. “I’m really happy for you, B.”

I meant it. Every word. A few years ago, knowing this would have eaten me up inside with guilt and anger and jealousy. My head would have been full of questions about why money happened to other people but never to me.

But losing Banjo had changed something in my chemistry. Pulling Luna out of that house had cemented it.

All I actually needed was them.

As well as the woman whose fingers were threaded between mine. She and Banjo chatted so easily it was like they’d known each other for a lifetime, and later, when Luna ran down the stairs with a hairbrush and a bunch of clips, my heart nearly fucking beat out of my chest, watching Ophelia braid her hair and decorate it with the tiny butterflies.

Lacey and I were awkward, and I couldn’t blame her for being standoffish. But when I offered to help with dinner, she agreed, pointing me toward the utensil drawer and then the saucepan of potatoes she’d already parboiled. We worked side by side in companionable silence, me mashing potatoes and watching the rest of her family while they went about various tasks. Rafe set the large dining room table, and Colt brought up a bottle of wine from the cellar.

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