Page 87 of Lucky Penny
Whack.
I carry a heavy load of split wood inside and stoke the fire. The flames flicker and crack, the heat kissing my hands.
The time flashes on my phone, reminding me that in a few hours, Penny’s finally going to see her twin brother.
I know what Danny means to Penny, or once meant to her. That kind of sibling love might dim, but I don’t know if it everdisappears. Below the stubborn anger and fortress she’s surrounded herself with, she’s drowning in hurt she doesn’t let anyone see.
But I see it. I see all of her.
My gut twists, and I drag the mesh screen across the opening. It’s not like I’m not happy that they will be seeing each other, but selfishly, I’m terrified. She might not come back as the same person.
Danny might be my oldest friend, a brother to me, but Penny is the love of my life. She always has been, and I would do anything to protect her. Everything about today has the potential to hurt her. The potential to reopen every scar she’s tried to bury. I can’t promise her it won’t, but I can promise this: when she walks back through that door this evening, I’ll be here.
It’s a promise I broke once, without meaning to.
She might still be waiting for me to vanish.
But I’m not going anywhere.
My eyes shutter closed, the growing flames licking me in warmth. Releasing a slow breath from deep in my lungs, I stand, slipping on my leather boots and grabbing a jacket. The front porch is quiet, the city has slowed down with Christmas three days away.
I thought the fresh air and change of scenery might release tension from my shoulders, but it doesn’t.
Then I hear her laugh, and it’s genuine.
That soft, effortless sound that hits me right in the ribs. I turn my head toward it instinctively, my muscles melting when I see her rounding the corner at the end of the block in her bubblegum-pink jacket, cheeks flushed from the cold. Fia walks beside her, small round belly in a cream coat, one hand holding the leash as Tank trots happily beside them.
They’re talking, laughing, lost in their world, and for a moment, all I do is stand there, committing it to memory.
Penny opens the little iron gate in front of the house. Her gaze catches mine as she closes the gap, walking up the steps toward me. There’s something sly and knowing in those eyes.
“You guys want to grab brunch in town before Penny has to leave?” Fia calls out, unclipping Tank’s leash before slipping him a treat from her pocket.
I nod without hesitation. “You two pick—I’ll buy.”
Penny pauses beside me, studying my face, eyebrows knitting like she can see all the things I’ve been thinking about while she was gone.
“You don’t need to do that,” she replies.
“I know.” I shrug, turning to push open the front door for her. “But I want to.”
“I’m exhausted, I’m going to take a nap.”
Penny turns to her sister, concern creasing her face. “You sure? You barely ate anything?”
Fia shakes her head and gives a tiny smile. “I’m fine.” She kicks off her tennis shoes in the foyer and waves her sister off. “This eggplant-sized baby is calling the shots. And right now, she wants to lie in bed and watchBridgerton.”
Fia trudges up the steps, leaving Penny and me alone in the kitchen.
She tosses her leftovers in the refrigerator, and I whistle for Tank. The afternoon sun is peeking through the white lace curtains above the kitchen sink, and we both stand without taking off our jackets. Penny leans back on the counter, her arms crossed over her chest, eyes darting around the space like she is trying to figure out what’s next.
The sound of Tank’s paws on the floor draws my attention down the hall. He waddles up next to me, letting out a loud yawn, stretching his legs out in front of him.
“I’m going to take him out.” I don’t know why I tell her this. Maybe I’m desperate for the conversation between us not to end.
Penny nods but doesn’t move, so I follow Tank into the yard as he sniffs.
A tiny smile tugs at my mouth as I stand with my back to the house and hear the back door creak open. Penny appears next to me, her blonde hair curled around her shoulders, looking beautiful. She always does.
