Catch

My older brother has always been my superhero. In the time since he lost his wife, he’s proven that he owns that title. I’ve never met a stronger man than him.

“Grandma and Grandpa were sad,” Stevie clues me in with a sigh. “They were showing me a photo album. It had pictures of mom when she was in high school.”

Layna’s parents are still holding tightly to their grief. I’m not a dad, so I have no understanding of the kind of pain that comes with mourning a child, but I know loss. I loved Layna like a sister, and her death hit me as hard as a punch in the gut.

It knocked Berk flat on his ass for months, but he’s moved forward. He took a leave of absence from his publishing company, Morgan Press, for half a year to focus on Stevie. Now, he splits his time between work and his daughter.

“Where is Duds?” Stevie cranes her neck to look around me.

I move aside to let them in before I close the door. “He’s staying with my new assistant.”

“Jamie has been your assistant for months, Keats.” Berk points out as he slaps my shoulder. “Unless you fired her.”

Stevie trains her blue eyes on me. “Did you, Keats?”

I’ve never carried the Uncle moniker with her. I’ve always been Keats. It suits me just fine.

Berk drags a hand through his dark brown hair. “Did you?”

It’s not as though either of them held Jamie in the highest regard. They met her a couple of times when she stopped by here to have dinner with us.

“She lost Dudley,” I state with a cross of my arms over my chest. “My new assistant found him and tracked me down.”

“Thank goodness.” Stevie twists her head, so her ponytail bounces. “What is your new assistant’s name and number? I want to set up visitation.”

Berk huffs out a laugh as he rests a bicep against the wall. “You know that Sully gets riled up when she smells Dudley on you.”

Sully.

I’m as allergic to that cat as I am to Dudley. Layna and Stevie cornered Berk five years ago when they brought home a kitten with an attitude. Since then, Sully has become part of their family. She’s the reason that Dudley can’t live with them. Sully won’t make nice with dogs.

“I’ll take a bath after I see him.” Stevie shoves a hand into the back pocket of her pink pants. “I brought you something from Boston, Keats.”

I know what it is, so I hold out my open palm. “I’ve been practicing.”

“I’m still the champion,” Stevie declares as she slaps a package of blue bubble gum into my hand. “You’ll never beat me in the bubble-blowing race.”

She’s right, but I’ll try again and again because I know she gets a kick out of it.Our tradition of her bringing me a package of this particular brand of gum started the day after her mom’s funeral. I took Stevie to a convenience store a block from her grandparents’ house after the service because Berk needed time. He had to tell Layna’s parents that he wouldn’t uproot his daughter’s life and leave Manhattan behind.

I knew that the conversation would be an emotional one, so I took Stevie for a walk. By the time we got back with blue lips and tongues, the drama was over. Berk agreed to give Layna’s parents all the access to their granddaughter they wanted.

Their weekly visits to Manhattan gradually shifted into Berk making monthly trips to Boston with his daughter. They left Thursday night, so I’m surprised to see them back here less than forty-eight hours later.

“I thought I’d have an extra day to practice,” I say, closing my fist around the package of gum. “It’s Saturday. Weren’t you scheduled to be back tomorrow?”

“It’s my bestie’s birthday tomorrow.” Stevie bounces in her sneakers. “I’m going to surprise her in the morning with balloons and brunch.”

“Kids your age know about brunch?” I question with a lift of my brow.

She gives me the once-over. “Men your age wear ripped jeans? Is that my dad’s T-shirt?”

I glance down at the World’s Greatest Dad shirt I’m wearing.

An ex gave me this shirt on April’s Fool Day as a joke. I fell for it hook, line and sinker because I thought it was her way of telling me she was pregnant. She wasn’t. I should have tossed the shirt out, but I kept it. Since today is laundry day, I dug through my closet to find whatever was clean.

I glance at Berk to explain the shirt to his daughter because I don’t know what the hell to say.

“He’s practicing for when he finally gets married and has a baby.” Berk smiles. “Keats thinks he’ll be the world’s greatest dad.”

Stevie lets out a full laugh. “No way. My dad is the best. You might be the second best, but who knows?”