Page 24 of Splintered Memories
“Amos?” I breathed, stunned and not totally convinced I wasn’t hallucinating. It had been so long since I’d seen him in person.
His grin widened. “Long time, no see, huh?”
I blinked again, the reality sinking in as my mouth curled into a broad smile. “Oh, my God.” I set my coffee on the small table in front of my chair and hopped up. “Uncle Amos!”
I was flying toward him in the next breath. He held his arms out to catch me as I slammed into him, wrapping my arms around his neck in a tight hug.
He smelled like spicy aftershave and roasted coffee—one of the only scents from my childhood that made me feel safe, and tears threatened to well in my eyes at the sudden appearance of him.
His arms were strong as he hugged me to his chest. “It’s so good to see you.” His voice sounded thick when he spoke.
I didn’t want to let him go, but I had questions. After another long moment, I forced myself to pull away, settling back down on my heels.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
Amos’s brows rose as he rubbed a palm over the stubble on his chin. “Well, I do own the place…”
I rolled my eyes at the humored glint in his eye. Yes, Amos Anderson was the owner of Latte Pages, but he hadn’t been back in town for years. His managers ran the place, and he did everything he needed to remotely.
I pursed my lips. “When did you get back from your mission? Did I know you were coming home?”
Amos had long been an involved member of the local church, and he’d been on extensive mission trips for the better part of a decade.
“I, uh, got back recently.”
Something in the way that he shifted on his feet had my eyes narrowing.
“Is there a reason why you came back so suddenly?”
Last time he was home, I’d been expecting him. I had been excited about it for weeks.
A muscle in his cheek tightened. “I got a call from your dad…”
My stomach sank.
Amos and my father were half-brothers. They shared the same mom but had different fathers. My grandfather had basically raised Amos,though. He and my father were the beneficiaries of the family business that my grandfather built from the ground up. The business, specializing in seed handling, tillage, and farm equipment, had been worth millions when they sold it. Now they were both well off.
But Amos and my father had never totally gotten along. They didn’t fight, but they weren’t exactly friends. Growing up, it was Amos who saw the toil us kids went through with our mother. It was Amos who would offer to take us on weekends for the fun of it and give all three of us a break from our home life.
Amos was the only family I trusted, besides my brother.
I let out a long breath. “What did Dad tell you?”
Amos’s dark eyes sharpened. “Enough. I’m pissed as hell I had to hear it from him and not from you, though.”
The hurt in his tone made me flinch.
“Someone shot at you, Emy. You didn’t think I’d want to know about it?”
His eyes were wide with both irritation and a fierce protectiveness. Maybe it verged on the point of anger.
“I’m—sorry.” I didn’t know what else to say.
He stared at me, taking me in from head to toe. Then, his expression softened, just a tad. “I wish you would’ve told me. I could’ve been here sooner.”
“I would’ve never expected you to come home.” I shook my head. “I’m fine.”
He gave me a sidelong look. “Except that someone wanted to harm you. That’s not exactly the definition of fine, Emy. I’m glad I know. I want to help watch out for you.”
