“That’s our first son,” I say as Knight buries his face in my leg, clinging onto me when faced with this stranger.
I turn to take one of the twins from Devlin. “This is Prince, our second, and Diamond, our daughter.”
“Diamond?” Duke asks, standing and peering at our devil child. “She doesn’t look a stripper at all.”
“Duke,” I scold, smacking his arm.
“What?” he says. “You know damn well that girl has no other career path in her future with a name like that.”
And then we’re laughing, and hugging, and he’s picking me up off the ground, and it’s just like I imagined, so I’m crying harder. Prince starts struggling and fussing in my arms, and I have to pull myself away from Duke and make sure the baby’s okay.
At last, I look up at Baron, feeling suddenly shy. Always the observer, he’s standing with his hands in his pockets, watching me from behind his glasses with guarded interest. I see that he and Duke have kept their individuality apparent instead of reverting to their New York look, where sometimes even I had trouble telling them apart. Baron’s hair is combed back, and he’s wearing glasses, a button shirt and dress pants, while Duke is in jeans and a hoodie.
“Does Dad know you’re here?” he asks.
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “Is he home?”
“No.”
Of course he’s at work, even though it’s evening. A damp, bracing wind blows brown leaves across the back yard where I remember walking with mynonna. I glance again at the burned rubble next door, the only thing that remains of Devlin’s beautiful house. Even though Preston said his family is safe, my heart still aches at the absence of the house next door, where Devlin stood on the balcony watching me. The tree in the backyard where he threw his football is still there, though the tire swing is gone. A ghost of memory shimmers up my arms, making the hair stand up.
“Will Devlin be safe here?” I ask.
“Probably not,” Baron says. “You ditched us for three years. You think you can just show up and Royal’s suddenly going to be fine with him?”
“You meanyou’renot fine with him,” I say, looking at my younger brother. He looks exactly the same, and yet, he also looks like a complete stranger. He’s bigger, like Royal, but it’s more than that. There’s something guarded in his eyes, not just watchful. But then, there’s a big difference between fifteen and eighteen.
“You’re right,” Baron says. “I’m not.”
“Baron…” I say, giving him a pleading look. “I had to leave. I was having a baby. You would have killed him.”
“And we would have taken care of you,” he says. “You and the kid both.”
I shake my head, drawing an unsteady breath. “I had no way of knowing if that would happen, if Daddy or the Darlings would let it.”
He sizes me up for a second the way I’ve been doing to them. I guess there’s a big difference between sixteen and nineteen, too. I’ve changed as much as they have.
“No,” he says quietly. “You’re just like Ma. You don’t give a shit about anyone but yourself.”
He turns and starts back toward the house, leaving me standing there stunned, crying into Prince’s hair. But King grabs Baron’s arm as he passes, stopping him. He murmurs something to our little brother, and Baron turns back to face us. His expression is cool now, his eyes flat and emotionless. He takes a Dolce Sucks pop from his pocket and starts to unwrap it as he stands there beside King under the stormy sky.
“Where’s Royal?” our older brother asks.
“He took my car and left,” Harper says.
“You let him leave?” King asks, wheeling on her.
“Do you think I could have stopped him?” she asks, not flinching at the sharp tone in his voice. I wonder how long she’s been part of this family, if she’s helped Royal through his loss the way Devlin helped me. I can’t tell much about her besides that she’s abrasive and doesn’t like me, but no one seems uncomfortable with her presence in a family moment.
King curses quietly. “We need to find him right now, before he does something stupid.”
“Like what?” I ask.
King ignores me, speaking instead to Harper. “You should have told me he left right away.”
“I thought he went somewhere to calm down,” she says. “You don’t think he’d…”
“What?” I ask. “What’s wrong with Royal?”