Beard Necessities (Winston Brothers, #7)(6)

As Duane’s adopted momma and Jethro’s biological momma, Bethany Winston, used to say, Best to leave farts and the past behind you. She might not have been my biggest fan when she died, but I still remembered her fondly.

Moving on. Shaking myself of pointless nerves, I squared my shoulders and opened the door. To my surprise, the hall was empty.

But then I heard Duane grumble, “He needs to eat,” his words coming from somewhere around the corner.

I marched toward his voice, though marching on the ceramic tile was silent ’cause my feet were bare. Also, I was tiptoeing more than marching. But I planned to clear my throat and alert them all to my presence just as soon as I could do so gracefully. The trio were walking slowly down the hall—Duane, Sienna, and Jethro—huddled together. My half-brother’s red head, his hair the exact color as mine, was bowed, his arms were crossed, and his shoulders were slumped. His beard unkempt and bushy, Duane had been looking exhausted for a while now.

“Yes, but he just went to sleep.” Sienna—gorgeous as always in Converse, black yoga pants, and a purple sweater with a wide neck falling off one shoulder—tossed her long, dark brown hair over her shoulder and lifted her hand toward the door at the far end of the hall.

It was one of the two huge guest suites on this level, mine being the other one. The room was already prepped and waiting for more family to arrive. So, not the nursery and not the room Jess, Duane, and baby Liam had been sharing since coming home from the hospital.

“Let him sleep first,” Sienna continued, turning as though to block the way, her brown eyes moving between Jethro and Duane as all three of them came to a stop.

Jethro shoved his hands in the back pockets of his jeans. “I agree with Duane. He needs food more than he needs sleep. He slept the whole way on the plane. Ashley said she couldn’t get him to eat before he left. He’s not well, he didn’t say two words to anyone.”

Sienna gave her husband a sympathetic smile. “Jet, my love, we can’t judge your brother’s mental or physical state based on how much or little he speaks. Billy doesn’t say two words to you on a good day.”

My feet stalled, and I stopped like I’d hit an invisible wall. A massive burst of adrenaline made everything inside me go haywire.

. . . Billy?!

I gasped, or my breath caught, or I must’ve made some sort of sound, because all three pairs of eyes swung toward me.

“Claire!” Sienna loud-whispered. “Sorry. We didn’t mean to wake you.”

“I—” I couldn’t think.

Everything was garbled. Billy is here? But—but he wasn’t supposed to come! I was told he wasn’t coming. He was too busy, didn’t want to leave his youngest brother still recovering in the hospital, couldn’t take the time off. I’d been told he wouldn’t be here and now he was here, and I didn’t know if I was ecstatic or terrified, and Jethro and Sienna were in front of me, pulling me into hugs.

“It’s so good to see you,” Jethro said. I registered he held me by the arms and gave me a wide smile.

“Sorry again if we woke you.” Sienna tossed her thumb over her shoulder. “The boys are downstairs already in bed. They were asleep when we arrived, so we’re going to let them rest until noon. I brought Maya, my sister—I don’t think you’ve met her? Maybe at the wedding?—well, I brought her along to help out with watching the boys. As soon as they see you’re here, they’ll want to play.”

I heard my friend’s words, peripherally comprehended them, but my mind was stuck in the quicksand realization that Billy Winston was here.

Now.

In this house.

In fact, he was probably behind the door to which Sienna had just casually gestured. So close.

And I was not prepared.

I’m never prepared for Billy Winston.

The last time we’d seen each other was Christmas, and before that it had been four years of no contact at all. I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him since Christmas and—Who am I kidding? Since I was fourteen, Billy Winston had never been far from my mind.

Things were different. I was different. Over the last six months, I’d started working through my issues, working on myself, talking to a psychiatrist about the danger of shame and how I’d allowed it to make so many decisions for me. For the first time in ten years, I’d considered reaching out, calling Billy, talking through things.

I hadn’t reached out, partly because I wasn’t ready, and partly because—after leaving him standing in the snow—I wasn’t sure he’d want to hear from me. And even if he did, so many years of history, hurt feelings, angry words, and secrets stood between us. I didn’t know how to disarm the minefield.

But now he was here, and so was I.

“Maybe Claire can help.” Duane moseyed forward and I met my brother’s gaze.

“Help?” I squawked.

“With Billy?” Jethro glanced between me and Duane, his forehead wrinkling.

“That’s a good idea,” Sienna said around a yawn and my eyes darted to hers. If she noticed my inner turmoil, she made no sign of it. “He might eat if Claire asks. She’s difficult to refuse.”

“What? Help? Difficult?” I tried crossing my arms, but that felt weird. So I grabbed the hem of my white cotton nightgown at my thighs instead. “Uh, help with what?”