Travis

PROLOGUE

Travis

Seven Years Old

“Mommy? What’s wrong?” I approached slowly, my heart drumming as I watched my mommy’s back shake. Her head was in her arms on the kitchen table in front of her, her soft sobs muffled.

But at the sound of my voice, she sat up. Her cheeks were wet with tears, her mouth twisted in what looked more like anger than sadness. My mommy’s face did that a lot. Her eyes said one thing, but the rest of her expression, and even her words, said another. Sometimes my mommy confused me. I didn’t know if I should try to help or run away from her.

My daddy didn’t confuse me like that. My daddy smiled with his whole face, and when he was sad, I could tell that too.

My daddy seemed sad a lot. But he loved me and I loved him. He was my hero and someday I was going to be a policeman just like him. Then he wouldn’t be sad anymore because I would make him proud and happy.

My mommy’s shoulders rose and fell as she took a big breath. “Your daddy’s left us,” she said.

I blinked at her, my heart giving one strong knock in my chest. “Left where?” I whispered. On a trip? To the town on the other side of the lake to do policeman business?

“Who knows where!” she said loudly, suddenly, her eyes sparking with the same anger on her mouth. “He’s snuck off like a thief with your aunt Alyssa and cousin Archer. He wants them to be his family now. He doesn’t want us anymore.”

I stepped back. Away from my mommy and the words she was telling me. “No,” I whispered. “My daddy wouldn’t leave me behind.” With you. He loves me. “He wouldn’t.”

“Oh, he would and he did,” she said, her tears stopping as she tapped her fingers on the table, her long fingernails making sharp clicking sounds. Tap, tap, tap. I wanted to clap my hands over my ears and make that sound stop. I wanted Mommy to stop. The crying. The yelling. The tapping. It felt like someone was pressing on my chest.

I felt scared and sad.

He wouldn’t leave me.

He loves me.

But I didn’t cry. I was tough, like my daddy, and I wouldn’t cry.

My mommy glanced at her phone on the table next to her, her fingers tap, tap, tapping harder and faster. “But maybe there’s something I can do,” she murmured, her lips tipping upward but her eyes still narrowed.

She grabbed the phone and began pressing the buttons, calling someone.

“Why, Mommy?” I whispered, my voice breaking, begging for a different answer than the one she’d given. Desperately needing something that made sense. “Why did he leave?”

My mommy stopped dialing, raising her head to stare at me. She watched me for several moments before saying, “Because I’m second best, Travis. We both are. We always have been.”

It felt like something withered and fell inside me, like the shriveled apples that dropped to the ground in our backyard. Thud. They were the ones nobody wanted.

Second best. Second best. You’re nothing but second best.

And second best didn’t even deserve a goodbye.

CHAPTER ONE

Travis

The lake sparkled beyond the trees as I pushed open my brother’s gate, the squeak from the rusty hinges breaking the silence of the still summer evening. Noise that was quickly and boisterously joined by the front door banging open and my nephews—and several mongrels—rushing from inside, racing up the sloping yard to greet me.

“Uncle Travis! Uncle Travis!” the boys yelled in unison, their short legs carrying them swiftly uphill, the dogs barking and dancing around, tails wagging in a way that would have let any knife-wielding burglar or serial killer entering the property know they were more than welcome to join the family.

I laughed as Connor and Charlie reached me, bending and scooping them up, one in each arm. “I have two stomachs!” Connor declared. “My daddy says.”

“It’s a Hale trait,” I explained. “It’s how we grow big and—”

“I prolly have three stomachs!” Charlie stated, not to be outdone by his twin.

I peered down curiously at his stomach, using my fingers to tickle his side. Charlie shrieked with laughter. The dogs wove in and out of my legs, and I sidestepped the brown one who seemed to always be grinning. I didn’t trust it. Anything that grinned that constantly was obviously insane.

“Did you ever see an elephant, Uncle Trav?” Charlie asked.

“Not in person—”

“What about a bear?” Connor inquired.

“Too many to—”

“Elephants weigh more than cars!”

“Bears sleep all winter! It’s called hide your nation.”

“Hide your nation? What’s a nation?” I asked.

Connor leaned in, cupping his hand over his mouth as he whispered loudly, “It’s prolly his hairy butt!”

Then both boys howled with laughter, their little bodies shaking with hilarity. I laughed too because, if you were a guy, the phrase hairy butt was funny, whether you were five or over thirty. Or a hundred fifty, I was going to assume.

“Boys,” Bree called, stepping outside, six-month-old Averie in her arms. “Let your uncle catch his breath.” She smiled. “Hi, Travis.”

“Bree.” I set the boys down, just catching the slight nod Charlie gave Connor before Charlie stumbled. I reached forward, catching him before he hit the wood floor of the porch.

“Aha!” Connor yelled triumphantly from just next to me, holding up the pack of gum he’d slipped from my pocket while I was rescuing his brother from his fake fall.

“My God, you boys are ninjas,” I said, proud of their stealth, high-fiving them both.

They laughed and Bree eyed them disapprovingly, putting her one available hand on her hip. “Don’t pick pockets, you two.” She turned her gaze on me. “I thought you were supposed to be the law.”

“Who said?”

“The citizens of Pelion, apparently.”

“Ah, that’s right. Now I remember. Your mother’s right. Pickpocketing will eventually lead to the slammer.”

Connor looked mildly intrigued, an expression that melted into innocence as he turned to his mother. “Can we have some gum?” he asked very seriously, holding up the evidence of his crime.

The corner of Bree’s mouth twitched. “May we,” she corrected. “One each,” she said, and the boys lit up with matching grins, Connor quickly doling out the gum and then with a nod of their mother’s head, they scampered inside, yelling, “Thanks, Uncle Travis,” behind them, chatting exuberantly about what sounded like a Lego castle. Those two definitely made up for my half brother’s silence.

The baby eyed me warily, laying her head on Bree’s shoulder, her chubby hand gripping her mother’s shirt as though she saw in my eyes that I intended to kidnap her at any moment. I felt mildly offended. It was me who had led the rescue charge when the kid had made the poor choice to be born during one of the worst snowstorms in years, causing her parents to have to deliver her themselves. It was like she’d already forgotten.

“Looking for Archer?” Bree asked.

“Yeah. I brought the police department’s data he asked for,” I said, pulling the folded printouts from my back pocket. Archer had asked that I pull together crime statistics for the town’s annual meeting coming up in July.

Bree nodded. “Lie down,” she said to the dogs who were still milling around my legs.

“That’s not a good idea, Bree. You’re married to my brother and I’m attached to someone. You really have to get over me once and for all.”

She rolled her eyes. “Funny.”

She focused her attention on the dogs—her serious mom look—and I grinned as they lay down on the porch, the larger black dog and the small, curly-haired, white one flopping onto their sides, the brown one still grinning up at me like some furry, demented clown. I glared at it, letting it know that it should save its furry, deranged clown business for someone who couldn’t fight it off. Its grin stretched, widened. Jesus. I gave it an extensive berth as Bree stepped inside the house and motioned me to follow her. “Archer texted a few minutes ago. He’s running a little late but he should be home shortly.”

The house was small but homey. It smelled like vanilla and something savory cooking in the kitchen. The boys argued genially, their animated voices rising and falling as they played in their room at the back of the house. The windows were open wide and the curtains fluttered in the breeze coming off the lake. The hardwood floor creaked under Bree’s bare feet as she walked to the kitchen, chubby baby perched on her hip. Would this be so bad? A home like this? A life like this?

“You’re welcome to stay for dinner,” Bree said. There was only the barest hint of hesitation in her tone, as though she wasn’t a hundred percent sure she meant what she said. I guess that’s going to take a while—maybe forever.

I set the papers down and leaned against the counter as I watched her juggle Averie while checking something in the oven and then stirring what looked like pasta on the range. “I can’t. I got tonight off so I can surprise Phoebe and take her to dinner.”

Bree let out a small laugh but it died a quick death. “Sorry. I just wish your girlfriend didn’t have the same name as my dog. It’s…unsettling.”

“So change its name.”

She turned to me quickly, looking more than a little outraged. “You can’t just—” She shook her head as though what she was about to say wasn’t worth her time. “Anyway, I’m sure she’ll be thrilled that you’re off.” She looked at me sideways. “How are things going with her? You’ve been seeing her for what? About a year now?”

I nodded, warmth infusing my chest as Phoebe’s smile filled my mind’s eye, the way she still sighed and looked nearly starstruck when I winked at her. “Ten months. She’s good. She’s great.” She worships me.

Bree had gone back to her stirring but now stopped, placing the spoon on the counter. She shifted Averie so she was holding her with two arms and leaned against the counter, resting her chin on the baby’s head and watching me thoughtfully. “Travis Hale. I never thought I’d see the day. You’re actually serious about someone, aren’t you?”

“Jealous?” I grinned but she remained serious. My smile slipped.

“No. Glad. It’s good to see you finding happiness.”

There was a full, weighted silence that made me feel itchy. I didn’t know what to say. In all honesty, Bree had every right to wish me unhappiness for the rest of my days even though Archer and I had mended fences, and I tried my damnedest to be a good uncle to my nephews—which wasn’t hard because, frankly, I enjoyed the hell out of them—and someday, if I was able to win her over, the niece still watching me cautiously. The way I’d acted when Bree first came to Pelion…the things I’d done to my brother all our lives, would forever be between us. Years had passed, holidays had gone by, and I liked to think I’d matured, but even so, there was nothing I could do to change the way I’d hurt them in the past. The things my actions might have caused.

“She’s the one, huh?” Bree asked, and I detected the barest hint of…uneasiness? Concern? I wasn’t sure, and whatever had passed over her expression was there and gone in the blink of an eye. She bent her head and inhaled Averie’s wispy brown hair, sighing softly.

Bree had met Phoebe on many occasions. She’d never said anything unkind about her, but I’d also gotten the sense they might never be best friends. Which was okay by me. Bree was into baking and reading and mucking around in the rocks with her kids and dogs. All worthy pastimes when you were a mom. But Phoebe wasn’t a mom. Yet. She was into…well, besides me, she was into… What was Phoebe into?

She liked to shop, I knew that. And tan. She was very good at both.

“Well, when you know, you know,” Bree said, smiling softly, meeting my gaze and holding it for several beats.

When you know, you know.

I pushed off the counter just as the soft sound of the front door opening met my ears. The door clicked shut quietly and then Archer turned into the kitchen, looking unsurprised to see me. He’d obviously noticed my truck parked out front. Hey, he signed.

Hi, I signed back as Archer made a beeline for Bree and his daughter, his face lighting with such open joy that I almost looked away, as though I’d barged in on an intimate moment and had no business being there.

The baby kicked her chubby legs and grinned, two shiny white teeth appearing on her bottom gum. Averie reached for her father and Archer took her from Bree, kissing his wife on the lips, lingering.

“Well,” I said loudly, giving the papers sitting on the counter a tap. “There’s the data you wanted. I emailed it to you as well, but was in the area, so thought I’d drop off printouts. Tell the boys I said bye. I’ll pick them up Sunday.” We had a long-standing after-dinner ice cream date where I fed them too much sugar and then sent them home so their parents could deal with the aftermath.

Archer glanced at Bree, his hands too full to speak, and as though reading his mind, she said, “Travis can’t join us for dinner. He has plans with Phoebe.”

Ah, Archer mouthed, smiling at me and nodding.

“Good to see you,” I said. “Bree.” I smiled at Averie whose eyes narrowed minutely. She leaned toward Archer, her tiny fist clutching his shirt the same way she’d held on to her mother. “Okay, then. See you guys later.” And with that, I turned and let myself out of the little house on the lake that smacked of home and love and family.