Footsteps: a creak on that floorboard in Seth’s living room, then quickly, quietly, up the stairs.
I glance at the clock: six-thirty in the morning, and a dark shadow flickers across my heart because I know, I know, that he’s just now coming home. I haven’t seen him since Friday afternoon, and now it’s Sunday morning, and I have a sinking feeling about where he’s been.
I move Thalia’s arm as gently as I can, roll off the sofa bed. I find my pants in the dark and pull them on, glance back at her one more time, open the door of Seth’s office and close it quietly behind myself.
Two doors down, the outline of my brother pauses.
“Did you just get home?” I ask.
“I went out for a run,” he says, his voice quiet, hushed.
“In jeans?”
Seth sighs, rocks back on his heels. He turns and faces me, arms folded over his chest, and looks me dead in the eye.
“What?” he says.
“Don’t do this,” I say, softly.
“Do what?” he says, his voice low, quiet, deadly.
“Don’t go back to her again,” I say, nearly whispering. “Do you remember the last time? You swore —”
“I was lying,” he says, and I close my eyes, take a deep breath.
“Please?” I ask.
My eyes are adjusting, and now I can see his face, light eyes and dark hair, cheeks and jaw and chin all variations on my own.
“I’m fine,” he says, answering the question that I didn’t even have to ask.
“Are you?” I say, and the words drop like a stone into the floor, lie there between us.
“Of course I am,” he says, and turns away, opens his bedroom door. “I’m totally fucking fine, just like always. I’m gonna take a shower, see you in a few.”
Seth closes the door behind himself and I stand there, glaring at it, wishing that I knew black magic so I could curse her name.
Then I take a deep breath, shake it off, and go back into a sleeping Thalia.Chapter Fifty-FourThalia“All right,” says Caleb, looking at his phone and swiping a few times. “So far, so good. Next.”
He holds his phone screen out to me and I lean forward, studying the face that he’s zoomed in on: bearded, brown-eyed, very obviously one of his brothers.
“Levi,” I say instantly. “I met him yesterday. Oldest brother, engaged to June, lives in the cabin he built, Chief Arborist for the National Forest, has a dog named Hedwig and a rug named Jedediah.”
“Excellent,” says Caleb, taking the phone back and swiping more, then holding it out again.
“Violet,” I say. “Married to Eli, the middle brother —”
“Second oldest,” Caleb corrects.
“Damn. Married to Eli, the second oldest, lives in the house on the lake, manages operations at the Folk Art museum.”
“You’re on fire,” Caleb says, grinning, looking at his phone and swiping some more. “Okay, who’s this?”
He holds out a picture of a man who’s handsome and smiling, but who doesn’t look related to him. For a moment, I’m stumped.
Then I snap my fingers.
“June’s brother,” I say. “Levi’s friend. Lawyer, former Marine…”
“And his name is…?”
I squeeze my eyes shut in concentration.
“Rhymes with… guileless, sort of?”
“Guileless?” I repeat, baffled.
Then, it hits me.
“Silas?” I say.
“Correct!” Caleb says.
We’re sitting on Seth’s couch in his living room, both drinking coffee while Caleb quizzes me on the people I’ll probably meet this afternoon.
“That doesn’t rhyme at all,” Seth’s voice says from the staircase, and half a second later, he appears.
“Seth,” I say to Caleb, pointing. “Fourth oldest, owns the brewery with Daniel.”
“Don’t forget coolest, handsomest, and smartest,” Seth says, walking in front of us and to the kitchen.
“He’s not that cool,” Caleb says, flipping through pictures again as he sips his coffee. “Or that smart,” he mutters, mostly to himself.
“Did you make flashcards?” Seth calls.
“Not technically,” Caleb calls back.
“Dork,” Seth says.
“Dweeb,” says Caleb.
Seth comes out of the kitchen with his own steaming mug, looks from me to Caleb and back, then takes a seat in the leather armchair opposite us as Caleb holds his phone out toward me again.
“Daniel,” I say. “Married to Charlie, owns the brewery with Seth, has a nine-year-old named Rusty and a baby named Thomas. Will give you a hard time if you curse in front of his kids.”
“He’s relaxed about that a little,” Seth offers. “I think Rusty’s finally learned about context and doesn’t call the lunch line at school a total clusterfuck any more.”
“Charlie’s also a calming influence,” Caleb says, flipping through pictures again. “I think that’s pretty much everyone.”
“And if you get a name wrong, don’t panic,” Seth offers. “Mom still doesn’t get my name right on the first try half the time, and she gave birth to me.”
“I’m Levi or Daniel a lot,” Caleb says. “Even though I’m way better looking.”
“I get Javier sometimes, and we’re not even the same gender,” I offer.
“Last week Mom called me Thomas, and he’s been dead for almost twenty years,” Seth says. “Unless she meant the baby, I guess.”