Page 6 of The Secrets We Built Together

That empty basket was such a stark reminder of my life that it was almost funny.

"Stop being such a misery," I told myself, reaching across and pinching my forearm. "Shit. Ow. That hurts."

Okay, I needed to shake myself out of this funk. Maybe I needed to get laid. Work off some of the stress. The self imposedcelibacy might have been the worst idea I’d had in a long time. It wasn't like I was lacking offers. Cole, the local vet, had been finding any excuse to drop by the farm in an afternoon. We didn’t even have any livestock. I was pretty sure Delaney was on the verge of bringing in some animals just to help him because she found the whole situation hilarious.

Witch.

But it would never just be one night. That's the problem with small towns, right? You have to see your problems and mistakes every single day. And there was no way I could survive Cole's hurt puppy dog eyes. I'd end up married and knocked up just out of politeness.

No. That definitely wasn't the way forward.

Maybe the art problem was the safest to tackle first.

I turned into the driveway and the farmhouse came into view. Along with a car sitting in front of it.

I frowned in confusion. It wasn't Delaney or Trace's car, and I'd seen Cole enough times to know what his truck looked like. I was pretty sure there wasn't anyone at home. Trace and Delaney would be busy out at the cider mill as usual and Cade was at school for another hour for baseball practice.

I brought the bike to a stop and carefully climbed off, pushing it the last few steps as I cautiously approached the car waiting outside the house. I wouldn't even have thought twice about something like this back in the city. Of course, I hadn't met Trace's batshit crazy mom then either.

Now that would definitely ruin my day.

I winced as the car door opened expecting to see the scowling woman herself, but someone completely unexpected stepped out instead.

My sister.

Who I hadn't seen since I was sixteen years old when my parents kicked me out of their house.

"Madison?"

She smiled nervously, closing the car door but not coming any closer.

It had been twelve years and she hardly looked any different at all.

Madison was three years younger than me. I never blamed her for not reaching out in those early years. She was just a kid and she didn't want to risk angering our parents. But that didn't mean she couldn't have reached out since.

"Blake. You look well." She shuffled awkwardly on the spot, looking around nervously like she didn't want to be caught doing something our parents would have disapproved of.

"Why are you here? In fact,howare you here? How did you know where I was?" I asked.

It probably wasn't polite. Most people would have made small talk about the weather or something. But twelve years was a long time and I didn't have the energy today to play that game with my sister.

"Your apartment manager gave me your forwarding address," she said quietly, looking down at her feet.

"And you knew where my apartment was, because?"

"I took the address out of mother's address book a few years ago."

It was more surprising that my mother had known where I was than Madison ever getting the courage to sneak through her things.

"And yet you never tried to make contact with me."

"No. I went to Paris instead."

"Oh, well I'm glad it all worked out for you," I said bitterly.

She winced then, still staring at the ground and not meeting my eye. I was probably being too hard on her. It wasn’t like I’d tried to contact her either.

I sighed. "Do you want to come in for a drink or something?"

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