Page 73 of The Spider & the Storm

And, hell, for all I knew, he did.

“Okay.”

He clapped his hand against my shoulder and squeezed, and I couldn’t help but smile. It was moments like this that I missed most of all, and even as it passed, I was aware of how precious and fleeting it was.

“Hey, Charlie.”

“Yeah?” I asked, all too mindful of how much I had grown to miss my brother, even while living under the same roof.

“Don’t tell Melanie you found me at the bar.”

I locked my jaw tight, clenching my teeth and biting back my protest. Melanie never lied to me, so I made it a point to never lie to her, and come to think of it, I could say the same for Luke—not recently at least. The idea of lying to her now and about something as serious as this settled in my gut like a three-ton brick.

“I didn't drink,” he pointed out, staring at the side of my face with his plea written in every line around his eyes and the downturned tip of his brows.

“Luke …” I rubbed at my chin, shaking my head.

“Fucking hell, Charlie. I'm not asking you tolie,” he said, raising his voice and sounding desperate. “I'm just asking you to not tell her. If she fuckingasks, then go ahead, spill your guts. Just don't go running to her as soon as we walk through the door, okay? Can you do that?”

I gripped the wheel, still unsure. It didn't feel right; that was what my intuition was saying. It wasn't good. But Luke's panic was clear, and I knew that if Melanie were to ever know where I'd found him, she'd never find trust in him again. I wasn't even sure if it had ever been rebuilt to begin with, but this would surely be another nail in the coffin.

Hell, maybe even the last.

“Come on, man.Please,” he begged, and finally, I nodded.

“I won't say anything,” I muttered. “But if she asks …”

He breathed out with relief and nodded, settling back in his seat and returning to the radio buttons.

“Right, yeah,” he replied. “If she asks.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CONNECTICUT, AGE TWENTY-TWO

The chicken cutlets were roasting in the oven, swimming with diced potatoes in a lemon butter sauce Melanie had helped to prepare.

The table was set, and the house was as clean as it was going to be. Although there wasn't a whole lot I could do about the chipping paint or loose floorboards at the moment, the place didn't look all that bad, and the clock had been wound.

Luke had even trimmed his beard and ironed a button-down shirt to wear with his jeans. “In case I'm about to meet my future sister-in-law,” he said with a wink, and as he passed me in the upstairs hallway, I knew my cheeks had turned three shades deeper.

I was nervous and—dare I say it—excited.

Melanie left their room, wearing a pretty pink dress and white high heels. Her hair was curly, her lips were glossy, and out of nowhere, an image of my mom crashed against me, hard and fast.

I thought of the last time I'd seen her alive. All made up and happy. I couldn't remember ever seeing someone more beautiful. I couldn't remember the last time I'd seen her like that—if I ever had before—and that was how I felt now, looking at Melanie.

Pretty and happy, and those attributes never should've become a rarity.

Tell her he was at the bar.

Give her the fuel she needs to finally leave.

“What?” She laughed awkwardly, fastening a necklace behind her neck.

“You look really nice,” I complimented, lifting one side of my mouth in a small, melancholy smile.

Her smile rounded the apples of her cheeks. She glanced down at her flowy dress, pinching the fabric between her fingers and spreading it wide, like a princess about to curtsy.

---