Page 81 of Sweet Nothings

“Beautiful house you have here.” His voice is like poison. “I guess congratulations are in order, Mrs. Harding.”

TWENTY-SIX

Bone structure like our father’s. Eyes like our mother’s.

Traitor to the ones who gave him life.

My brother stands at the bottom of the staircase looking up at me as if I haven’t completely cut him out of my life for the past two years for the crimes he not only committed in the eyes of the law, but for the ones he committed against his family.

“Kellan.” My voice sounds meek and far quieter than I intend it to. Panic spreads across my chest like a thousand pins being pricked across my skin.

I blink rapidly, wondering if I’ve stepped into some time portal taking me back to the last time I saw him outside of a courtroom.

He’s wearing a dark gray suit, with his hands shoved inside his pockets. The gold watch dangling from his wrist clinks as he lifts his hand to scratch at the stubble lining his jaw. His hair is slicked back away from his aging forehead. He’s only six years older than me, but he looks older than thirty-one. Prison must have aged him.

“What are you doing here?” I ask when I reach the bottom of the stairs.

My eyes dart across the foyer, reaching for anyone tangible—anyone I can use as a witness. We’re alone. The doors to the courtyard are still propped wide open, but everyone seems to want to stay outside.

I don’t know why he’s here or even how. He’s barely served out the first third of his sentence.

“I heard you got married, baby sister,” he says coyly. A sneer plays on his mouth, lighting a spark in his gray eyes. “I believe I owe you a heartfelt congratulations.”

“I don’t want anything from you,” I grind out through clenched teeth.

He pouts. “Oh, come on, Laurel. I wouldn’t be a very good big brother if I didn’t congratulate you on marrying into the richest family in Boston.” He laughs mockingly. “I mean, let’s face it, even our family never matched up to their status. You classed up.”

Venom slithers up my throat, heat flushing my skin. I shoot him a glare, pinning him with daggers. “Shouldn’t you be in prison?”

He laughs, taking a step back as he rubs his fingers on his chin. I can tell I’ve already gotten under his skin. Good.

His gaze falls back to me. “Didn’t our uncle tell you?”

Fresh tears fill my eyes, spilling over. One by one they glide down my cheeks, falling and splashing onto the black and white checkered marble. I shake my head and inhale an unsteady breath.

“I was released early for good behavior.” He grins. “Got out just yesterday in fact. Our criminal justice system sometimes rewards you when you least expect it. I guess I was simply one of the few lucky ones.”

“Where…” The word gets caught in my throat. I swallow hard. “Where are you staying?”

“With Fred, of course.” His once snide, delighted face transforms to one of disgust. Storm clouds fill his eyes. “You know, the only member of our family who hasn’t turned their back on me.”

“You did it to yourself,” I spit back. “Roe and I didn’t deserve what you did to us. You’re a disgrace to the Branford name. What would Mom and Dad think if they saw you today, knowing what you’ve done?”

“You know…” He points his finger in my direction, stepping closer. He purses his lips and lowers his voice. “Funnily enough, that isn’t much of a concern to either of you now, is it? Since neither of you are no longer Branfords.”

“We’ll always be Branfords. But you? You’re nothing.”

He nods, wiping his hand over his mouth. He looks around, leaning back to peer through the open French doors. “Speaking of, where is our sister? I assumed she would be here. You two were always attached at the hip.”

My stomach lurches. For a moment, I wonder if he knows about her cancer diagnosis. But then I remember Roe telling me she didn’t want Fred to know. Relief washes over me temporarily knowing Fred is the only way Kellan would know.

“I haven’t seen her yet.” I tell him the truth, but I also don’t want her seeing him. Not only because I know Roe hates our brother as much as I do, but I don’t know what seeing him would do to her physically. From the glimpse I saw of her before running down here, I don’t think she’s well.

The invisible string attached to Roe is tugging on my chest, urging me to go find her. But Kellan is blocking the way. He’s standing impossibly close. He’s all sharp lines, focused on what he came here to say or do, as if he’s been planning this for months. Confronting me and exacting revenge.

“Where’s that husband of yours?” he asks, still looking around as if he’ll find him. “I wouldn’t mind seeing Lennon again.”

“Again?” I ask, jerking back. I didn’t know Lennon and my brother knew each other.

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