Page 8 of Golden Rule

They hug first, then Ricky leans into me, and our embrace lingers a bit.

Out of everyone in the diner tonight, my history with him goes back the furthest. Growing up together, surrounded by the poverty and dangers of the south side, he’s been a friend and a protector for most of my life. And as fate would have it, that treatment extended to West once we made things official.

“I know you two chartered that fancy-ass flight, so I’m assuming everything was smooth?” Ricky says, teasing West as he lets me go.

“It was good. Mostly,” West answers, and I’m certain the only thing that sullied it for him was the post. But before he can get too deep in thought about it, he nods toward Ricky. “Didn’t know if we’d see you tonight. Figured you’d be working.”

Working…

Over the years, that word has been a bone of contention between Ricky and me. Back in the day, workusedto mean hustling on street corners, along with a number ofotherillegal activities he and my brother got into. But present day, as hesports a gold band on his finger, symbolizing his commitment to Dez and their two daughters—Gabriella and Elisa—work simply means running his clubs and other businesses around the city. He’s certainly cleaned up his act, and in the process, he’s effectively cleared the name of his entire family. Thanks to him, being a Ruiz is no longer synonymous with being a troublemaker.

Ricky levels a glare on West for thinking he’d skip out on tonight. “You kidding me? Me and the wife wouldn’t have missed it for the world.”

I smile, hearing him refer to Dez this way. At the mention of her, I’m starting to feel antsy to cross the room to get to my girls, but before I can break away…

“Brace yourself,” West whispers in my ear with a quiet laugh. And at the feel of his light squeeze to my hand, I glance toward the large booth in the back corner that’s suddenly empty. Because the girls are all rushing toward us.

I’m overwhelmed, swallowing the lump in my throat because… shit. It’s been so long since I’ve had this. Sinceanyof us had this.

My sister reaches me first.

“Finally,” she says against my shoulder, holding me every bit as tightly as she promised she would. And I hold her with just as much force, like my life depends on it.

Pulling away, I grip her shoulders to get a better look at her. Sure, we facetime almost every day, but it isn’t the same. In person, she’s even more beautiful than when I left. She grew to match my height years ago, but she’ll always be my little sister. There’s also so much of our mother in her it’s scary, but the similarity between them starts and ends with the curve of Scar’s smile, her infectious laughter.

She grins again when I twirl a section of her hair—blonde on top, with a layer of hot pink peeking through from underneath.

“Some things never change,” I say, remembering how she’d switch up her hair color almost every month when she was going through her moody teenager phase.

“Had it done this morning,” she grins. “I thought it made sense, you know, with this being a special occasion and all.”

My heart feels like it’ll explode with emotion as I stare at her. The feelings are both goodandbad. Joy, yes, but also guilt. For eight months I stayed away. While undergoing treatment, my hormones were all over the map, and I wasn’t myself. Then, when not one, buttwo,treatments failed, I fell into a dark place. Not even West could pull me out of it. My rationale for staying holed up in our home was that I didn’t want to drag family down into the abyss with me, but now I’m not so sure that was the right thing to do. Because I know I needed this.

Neededher.

I don’t expect the swell of pride that fills me next, but it’s there. I had a hand in raising the amazing human standing before me today. Granted, at twenty-two, she’s definitely standing on her own two feet, but all the tough years, all the hard lessons we learned together that got us here, they were absolutely worth it.

“Did you guys have time to stop at the house first?” she asks, and I don’t miss the excitement in her voice. It actually pulls me out of the bad mood I sank into after seeing the post.

“Nope. We came straight here.”

“Well, the cleaners did a great job, and I reset the alarm when they finished. If you need help getting organized tomorrow just… say the word. I cleared my schedule just in case.”

Her offer warms my heart. While I’m certain she’s not actually excited to help me go through the boxes that have been sitting at mine and West’s house in Bellvue, Iamcertain she’s looking for an excuse to hang out. Which I love more than she’ll ever know.

“Thanks. I’ll take you up on that.”

She smiles again, then surprises me with another hug, but I don’t blame her. I missed this too.

“Welcome home, Blue Jay,” a deep voice says, and I’d recognize the sound of it anywhere.

“Uncle Dusty!”

Scar lets go, then goes to greet West, leaving me to attack our uncle with a hug. I’ve always equated him to a wall on legs—tall, strong, solid, with a beard that would put any lumberjack to shame. Growing up he was the only father-figure we knew, until Dad got the help he needed. But the sacrifices Dusty made, the situations he bailed us out of, I’ll never forgetanyof it.

“Eight months was far too long, kiddo.” He lifts me until my feet leave the ground, but he’s right. Letting so much time go by was a huge mistake.

“I’m… sorry.”

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