Page 12 of Change of Plans

“Sometimes.” He was quiet then, and Bryce glanced sideways at him.

“Care to elaborate?” she asked. “Or are one-word responses a specialty of yours?”

The corner of his mouth twitched. “Drake’s writing really started to catch fire when I was on my first deployment, so I missed the gradual, organic rise I’m told happened. By the time I’d returned Stateside, he was like a rock star, jetting around the country for signing events. But since we grew up in Wellsville, everyone here takes his fame in stride. It’s usually newcomers or tourists we have to watch out for.”

“Well, you don’t have to watch out for me. I’ve been here for…” She did the quick math in her head. “…almost seven months. Your mom can vouch I’ve never once asked about Drake.”

“It’s hard not to ignore my oldest brother’s presence in there—the pictures are everywhere. Her café is like a Drake shrine.”

“Damn firstborns. Always stealing the spotlight.” She remembered her parents’ pride at Bentley’s football games and with each A he effortlessly earned in high school, while she struggled to make C’s. Then, like someone took a meat cleaver to her gut, she gasped, stumbling. Bentley was gone. He’d been the apple of her parents’ eyes and her hero. And now he was buried in a double plot with his wife, never to be a spotlight-stealer again.

“You okay?” Ryker asked.

She wasn’t okay. But she wasn’t about to dump her sorrow on this guy. Instead, she went for her favorite position. Offense.

“Yep. I’m fine. In fairness, your mom has pictures of Zander in there, and I recall seeing a few photos that must be you. There’s one behind the counter of a guy in dress blues. Patty said the picture had been taken when you got your Silver Star and Purple Heart. Pretty impressive stuff.”

He ignored the compliment. “How long have you been working for my mom?”

“Patty’s been my mentor since I arrived from Florida. I stopped into the bakery to buy cupcakes for the girls before the…funeral.” She tripped over the ugly word and the memories it conjured. “I asked if she needed any help at the café and told her about my time at Chez Pierre. She hired me on the spot. Said she’d been trying to figure out a way to do some menu expansion, and that I was a godsend. Your mom even convinced me to move into the empty apartment above the café when my brother’s landlord wouldn’t let me take over their rental.”

Ryker gave one nod. “Makes sense. Mom just used it for storage. I’m sure she’s happy the place can be useful.”

“Your mother is amazing. Actually, your whole family is Hallmark-movie perfect. Imani is my nieces’ dance teacher, and Zander helped me move into my apartment. He said he was born to haul things, and I’ve never seen furniture move upstairs so fast in my life.”

“Yeah. My brothers are superstars, and Mom is next in line for sainthood.” His tone was neutral, but Bryce sensed something behind his words.

“And you’re the middle brother. Don’t tell me the stereotypes about middle siblings are true? That you’re all…” She paused, searching for a word.

“Undervalued and unheard?”

“I was going to say ‘complicated,’ but your description sounds way more angsty. I’d love any tips to surviving my nieces’ angst, so please. Say more.”

He gave a low chuckle, like an engine rumbling in the distance. “Not angst. More like…” He paused. “…never being all that important. Even when you’re the first to achieve something—like football quarterback or a military rank—it’s slotted between what the angel oldest is doing and the needs of the baby of the family.”

“That explains so much of Cecily’s behavior,” Bryce said. “She’s the middle, too, and with her older sister’s anger at the world and the constant, make-sure-she-doesn’t-die work involved in caring for her younger sister, I bet poor Cici doesn’t know where she fits in. Except for bath times, she’s quiet and just goes with the flow. It’s easy to accidentally overlook her.”

They were quiet, their feet hitting the sidewalk at the same cadence until Bryce couldn’t stand the silence. She blurted the question bubbling up in her mind since she’d seen him in the grocery store with his child. “So, you’re not married?”

As soon as she spoke, she regretted it. She’d been wondering about the baby-daddy situation he had going on with baby Lisi’s mother, but realized belatedly that this topic was too personal, too soon. She opened her mouth to apologize when he replied.

“No. You?”

“Nope. My job ate up all my free time in Tampa, and now that I’m here…well, I don’t exactly have game anymore.”

He flashed her a look, the very edges of his mouth quirked up in a way that might be his version of amused. “Not true.”

“But you didn’t stop by PattyCakes,” she said. When he shot her a puzzled glance, she clarified. “I gave you that coupon, but you didn’t come in to redeem it. My game clearly is off.”

She’d expected him to be taken aback by her bluntness. People—especially men—usually were.

But he replied with equal candor. “I figured it was either an elaborate setup from my meddling mother or maybe a pity move. After my grocery store…incident, I thought you were just being nice.”

“It wasn’t a setup, and for the record, I don’t have much use for that flavor of ‘nice’ in my life.” She gave him a sidelong look as she picked up her pace. Yet he kept up without a hitch in his stride, so she continued, enjoying the wind against her skin. Evening had begun to fall, and they jogged from streetlight circle to streetlight circle, glorying in the cool night air. “I find being honest is much more effective. Cuts the bullshit and saves time. Besides, I saw enough of those kinds of looks at my dad growing up, and pity is debilitating and demoralizing. It’s about as useful as ‘thoughts and prayers’ if you’re really in a bind. I say friendship, a smile, or even a good bowl of soup is worth more than a bucketload of pity, thoughts, or prayers.”

For the first time, the storm clouds on Ryker’s face cleared. Then the most miraculous thing happened. He smiled.

The expression transformed his face, making him look years younger than the permi-scowl he’d worn all evening. The shadow of whiskers darkening his cheeks and chin were contrasted by the gleaming of his teeth as he grinned.

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