Page 62 of With You Here
“Why?”
“Because even though it seemed like it was just the two of us against everyone else all those years, we were wrong. Someone else was with us the whole time.” He gave her one of his famous half-smirks that the cameras liked to capture. “If you think I’m so awesome, you haven’t seen anything yet, kid. He’s beyond superhero material.”
She rolled her eyes, but her lips tilted. “Plonker.”
He laughed and kissed her forehead. “Is that a yes?”
“I’ll think about it, okay?”
“Good enough. For the time being.” He slung his arm over her shoulder. “Now for the last accusation.”
She pushed against his side, but he wouldn’t release his grip.
“Ugh. Don’t you think this heart-to-heart can end already? The blokes at the club will demand your man-card if they catch wind of how long you gabbed about your feelings with your little sister.”
“Like I care what they think. We have years of soul-baring discussions to make up for.”
“Kill me now.”
He squeezed her tight. “There’s the charming girl I know and love.”
They walked along the path toward the house, the engine sound from a passing car climbing over the privacy fence around the garden.
“Amber, though?” Kayla asked. “Are you serious about her?”
If his heart were still in his chest, it would race at just the thought of her. “I told her I love her.”
Kayla wrapped her arm around Seth’s waist. “What did she say?”
He stopped and looked down his sister. The shutters that had hidden her spark for too long were open, and he recognized the sister he’d always been able to talk to as a kid. She was the one who’d comforted him by telling him what a break he’d gotten when Cindy Bayless turned him down at the school dance. He’d gone home in low spirits after she’d called him a dirty gutter rat. Kayla had come back by saying things about Cindy he wouldn’t dare repeat. He grabbed Kayla’s wrist and pulled her into the house. “Come on. I got you something when Mum told me you were coming.”
He led her into a spare room, hands covering her eyes. After turning on the light, he lowered his hand. “Ta-da.” He watched her as she took in the room. Her eyes misted over, and his breath caught. Would she finally accept this gift from him instead of turning and storming away? Or worse, throwing everything in it against the wall in a rage?
An easel sat beside a large window, the curtains drawn back. Paints in all forms—watercolors, acrylic, oils—lined storage shelves along the wall. Then there were sketch pads and charcoals. Pencils. Clay. He’d pretty much bought one of everything in the art store. Again.
She circled the room, brushing her hand over palette knives and colored tubes. She paused and lifted her face, her head tilting. “Why do you keep doing this?”
“This” being the third room he’d outfitted with a wonderland of art for her. “Because you’re my sister, and though I am an eejit, like you say, I’m an eejit who loves you, believes in you, and who will never give up on you.”
Her hand dropped and she barreled into him, her arms wrapping and squeezing around his waist. He closed his eyes and settled his hand to hug her back.
She sniffed, then pulled away enough to look up at him. “But you never answered my question. From earlier.”
Could a smile feel sad? His did. “After I told Amber I loved her, a little banshee started screaming. Talk about a mood killer.” He winked so she’d know he was joking and didn’t blame her for anything. But Kayla’s lips didn’t so much as twitch. He sighed. “She said she didn’t want to be a distraction while you and I fixed our relationship, and thought it would be best if the only time we ever saw each other was with the kids on the pitch at the center.”
“Do I need to start calling her names?” Obviously she’d been thinking about Cindy Bayless too.
“Don’t you dare,” he growled.
“So, what are you going to do now?”
Apparently shrugging is a Marshall family trait, he thought as his shoulder rose and fell. “She has possession of the ball now.”
“Always the footballer.” Kayla shook her head at him. “Fine, if you want to go with that analogy, then answer me this. Since when does the great Seth Marshall not try to steal the ball back?”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Holy Roman Empire, 1527
