Page 109 of The Switch: A Friends To Lovers Romance

“I don’t know. I don’t know anything about him. To be honest, there at Harry’s deathbed was the first time his name came up.”

“What do you think happened between them?” I whisper.

“Not sure. But whatever drove the brothers apart was not a decision Ben approved of. I can tell he really looked up to Harry.”

“Okay.” I drag in a breath. “Keep me updated and let me know if he contacts you too, Lydia.”

“I will.”

We hang up. My eyes trail over the kitchen, flitting past the cheerful yellow paint to the stainless steel refrigerator that’s more of a pin board for displaying artwork and excellent school grades than a functioning appliance. The stove gleams like it’s never been used.

Which it hasn’t.

The Duncans did not cook often. Or at all.

I tried to rectify that as much as possible, but coming over a few days every month wasn’t enough to give the oven the loving it needs.

It feels like the house is already beginning to grieve. The silence is sorrowful. The shadows darker than usual.

I’m not used to the hush. When Harry had me over, there was rarely a moment of quiet. If he and Reece weren’t laughing and chatting, they were listening to music and dancing goofily or watching a movie at full blast.

He really was an extraordinary father. An extraordinary man.

Tears well in my eyes again. To keep from crying, I pad to the refrigerator to pour myself a glass of water. Just before the rim of the cup touches my lips, someone bangs on the door. I startle and slosh water onto my shirt. A curse tears from my mouth as I shudder and then glare at the intrusion.

“Seriously?” I mumble. Setting the cup on the counter, I jog to the front door and wrench it open before the visitor can disturb Reece.

A very drunk man stands in the doorway. As he lifts his face to the light, I gasp in recognition.

“Logan!” Benjamin Duncan staggers to the edge of the welcome mat.

My gaze rakes over his thatch of thick brown hair, his strong nose, and sharp jaw. He’s got skin so pale that even in the shadows of the porch, I can see him.

“Well?” Ben slips his arms up. “Aren’t you going to let me in?”

I step aside though a part of me is saying that’s a bad decision. He may be related to Harry, but we know nothing about him. What if he’s dangerous? What if he’s crazy?

“Ben? No, Ben, you can’t sleep on the floor!” I rush toward him, yanking him up just before he collapses on the ground.

He wrenches his arm away and waggles a finger at me. In the soft light coming from the kitchen, I notice his solid blue eyes. They’re such a bold color, one I’ve never seen up close, that I’m tempted to stare.

He takes my prolonged eye contact the wrong way and smirks.

I’ll admit… the Duncan men are pleasing to the eye and Ben is no exception. So when his lips tilt up that way, my heart flutters a little.

But only because it reminds me of Harry.

“You’re cute, Logan,” Ben says.

My eyebrow arches. Cute? “You’re drunk, Ben. Let me show you to the guest room.”

“Drunk?” He pulls the hem of his shirt to his nose and sniffs, flashing his chiseled mid-section at me. “I’m not drunk.”

“Yeah, you are, buddy.” I avert my eyes.

I’m stunned he made it home the way he’s stumbling around. Ben’s an inch shy of six feet. He’s also solid with broad shoulders and large hands. I don’t think I can overpower him even if I wanted to.

What should I do in a case like this? Harry rarely drank since he didn’t know when the hospital would call him in to do a surgery. The moments he did, he was always conscious of his limit in case Reece needed him.

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