He hadn’t forgotten the vast wash of hurt, though. This was the big brother who had abandoned him.
“You didn’t answer my question,” Bran said suddenly. “Why come back to Clear Creek?”
“Sheila. Why else?”
This was so bizarre Zach had trouble taking it in. He felt too much. He was thrilled but angry, too, even if he knew that was childish. And still...stunned.
As, in a completely different way, he’d been in that odd moment when his eyes had first met Tess Granath’s.
“Wow.” Bran gave something like a laugh. “Your shift over?”
“Yes. You?”
“Yeah, I took a recent vacation. Payroll got confused.” He indicated the door behind him with a gesture. “I had to clear it up. Uh...any chance you’re free? We could go get a drink. Have dinner.”
“I am.” He thought quickly. “You know The Creek?”
“Sure. Decent burgers and not a cop hangout.”
They walked out together, which Zach found to be surreal. He hadn’t seen this brother in twenty-four years. Never thought he would again, even though he’d worshipped Bran. He smiled sardonically at the thought because they’d fought, too. Zach had resented knowing his brother was in charge when Mom and Dad weren’t home. He wasn’t that much older. Sometimes Zach got almost mad enough to tell about the Playboy magazine Bran had under his mattress. But of course he never would have. Mostly, it was him and Bran against the world. And taking care of Sheila.
Until...nobody took care of her.
And then it wasn’t him and Bran together. He’d have sworn he’d grown past the hurt but discovered he hadn’t. Even so...
He’s here now. Unbelievable.
“I drive the Silverado.” He gestured.
“This is mine.” Bran stopped by a sleek, obviously restored classic Camaro. The only thing it had in common with Zach’s pickup was that both were black.
“This is a beauty.” Zach circled it. “What year?”
“A ’73.”
“You do the work yourself?”
“With some help. I really wanted one of these when I was a teenager. Took me a few years to get one.”
A memory surfaced. “You had a picture of one on your bulletin board.”
God, Bran’s grin was familiar. “A pinup,” he said.
Zach narrowed his eyes. “In place of one of the naked women in that Playboy.”
“You knew about—?” Bran gave an incredulous laugh. “This is really something.”
“Yeah, it is.” What, Zach wasn’t sure. He lifted a hand and strode the rest of the way to his pickup. That did not require him to assume a pretzel shape to get behind the wheel, was good for hauling construction materials and was just as cool, in his opinion.
He found himself smiling. Okay, almost as cool. He wouldn’t turn down the Camaro. Although Bran must have sunk one hell of a lot of money into it.
Ten minutes later his brother parked right next to him in front of the tavern. This early, they found most of the booths empty when they walked in. Two men sat on stools at the bar, one at each end. Neither even looked to see who’d come in. Zach didn’t hear any crack of a cue striking a ball from the billiards room.
He ordered a pitcher and then slid into a booth, Bran across from him. For what had to be two or three minutes, they just looked at each other.
Bran had changed and yet he hadn’t. Zach wouldn’t have expected to recognize him at first glance, but he hadn’t had a moment’s doubt. His brother had grown into the nose and jaw and too big feet and hands Zach remembered. But in the important ways, he was the same.
“Your hair got darker.”
Bran grunted and rubbed a hand over his jaw. “My stubble has more red than my hair does.” He was making as thorough a survey. “You were a shrimp. I thought you might take after Mom.”
“I stayed a shrimp through middle school. No, later than that.” He’d fought a lot of battles to prove that small didn’t mean weak, but now he shrugged. “I had a growth spurt when I was fifteen. Seemed like an inch a month there for a while.”
Bran laughed but it didn’t last long. His face showed the same incredulity Zach still felt. “Mom alive?”