CHAPTER 1

Tex Thrasher felt the familiar knot form in his stomach as he stared at the dark-green Victorian house in front of him.

Normally when people came home, they felt a rush of warmth. At least that was his impression. However, he’d never truly experienced what home felt like.

Not the home from the feel-good TV shows he’d seen while growing up. He’d always felt a jab of envy as he watched the smiling families interact, enjoying the time they spent together.

To him, home was an illusion.

He never thought he’d be back at this place outside Roanoke, Virginia. But his foster father, the one Tex had lived with from the ages of fifteen to eighteen, had texted him and asked him to come. Said he wanted to spend this Christmas with Tex.

Which was weird considering the fact that he hadn’t heard from Gilbert Stevenson in twelve years. Why did he want to see Tex now?

There was only one reason he could think of.

Something must be wrong.

Was Gilbert dying? Was he trying to make amends before he left this earth?

Tex had no idea. Were any of his other foster brothers invited? If not, why just Tex? He and Gilbert had never been particularly close.

Tex almost hadn’t come. He had a million reasons not to, starting with the fact he’d never particularly liked Gilbert.

The man had been more interested in the money foster care brought in than he had been in forming true relationships with any of the kids. There was no warmth or nurturing. Only what was required of him.

Gilbert wasn’t married, so he had been the only one managing the house. And he’d run the place like a drill sergeant. Even though Gilbert had never been in the military, his father had. Gilbert had always talked about how he was raised right and how he wanted to do the same for the boys in his house. Talked about how those rules had made him into a better man.

Everyone had to be up and out of bed at the crack of dawn. Beds had to be made. Chores had to be done. Every bite on the dinner plate had to be eaten. Curfew had to be strictly followed.

Many of the boys who’d come here to stay couldn’t handle it. Some had run away. Others had rebelled and acted out.

Gilbert had even sent some back to social services.

Tex, however, had followed the rules. He figured that by staying here, he’d at least had a warm place to sleep and food in his belly.

And he’d been able to stay close to Chelsea Lennox, the girl next door and the only woman to ever capture his heart.

In high school, staying near her had been the most important thing.

Theonlything.

His throat burned, and he pushed those thoughts aside.

Instead, he shifted as he stood on the dark sidewalk. The chilly wind blew over him, sending leaves scraping down the driveway, almost as if they wanted to get away from this house.

Were they warning him?

Tex shook off the errant thoughts. He had to stop staring at the house and get a move on.

He hiked his bag higher on his shoulder and climbed the front steps.

Tex had halfway expected to see the old Victorian rundown and in disrepair. Gilbert always had his foster kids do all the work.

But the place was remarkably well-kept. The siding and flowerbeds looked clean, and the boards beneath his feet felt sturdy. White Christmas lights were strung along the eaves of the house and wrapped around the posts of the porch. Wreaths with red bows hung on each window, and a set of three lit Christmas trees stood cheerfully in the front yard.

As Tex reached the front door, he realized it was cracked open.

His eyes narrowed. Gilbert would never leave his door unlocked, much less open. He was too paranoid for that.