The Falling (Brightest Stars, #1)(19)

It wasn’t healthy to compare myself to his new wife or to my brother—I was self-aware enough to know that. But the way he cosseted her still bugged the hell out of me. And then there was the fact that Austin was my dad’s doppelg?nger, and I was my mom’s. We were twins, but he looked like him and I looked like her. This worked out better for my brother than it did for me; to my dad, I was a copy, and a constant reminder of my mother.

“We’re almost there. My dad’s been in the Army a long time.”

Kael was a soldier; he wouldn’t need more of an explanation. He nodded beside me and looked out the passenger window.

“How long have you been in?” I asked.

I heard him swallow before he spoke. “Little over three years.”

“And you’ve already deployed?”

He nodded. “Twice.”

I was curious to know more, to ask him if he liked being in the Army, but we were pulling up in front of my dad’s house.

“We’re here,” I warned him. “It’s like a whole fiasco. Three courses. Lots of small talk and coffee after. Two hours, minimum.”

“Two hours?” He blinked.

“I know. I know. You can take my car if you want to skip it, as long as you pick me up later.”

“No, dinner’s cool. Anything else I should know?”

“My dad doesn’t do strangers. We could lie and say you’re my brother’s—Austin’s—friend? He’s my twin.”

“Austin. Got it.” Kael opened the passenger door and leaned down to talk to me while I was still in my seat.

I checked my hair in the mirror. It was almost dry. The air was thick with humidity and it showed. I wiped away the little black specks of mascara under my eyes.

I grabbed my phone. Austin hadn’t called back. The pounding guilt was there again for not answering the call. It was only one call, I reminded myself.

“I’ll tell you, however awful you think it’s going to be, it’s gonna be worse than that.” The more I thought about it, he probably should have stayed in the car. I didn’t even know him and he wasn’t exactly friendly—but neither was my dad.

“Mhm,” I thought I heard him say. I looked up as the passenger door shut. The reality of just how bad an idea it was to bring a stranger to Tuesday dinner was sinking in.





CHAPTER SEVENTEEN




I was fidgety, wiping my hands on my legs. I always did that when I was nervous. We walked up the sidewalk as the little solar light trail was turning on with the sun going down. The house was brick, recently power-washed, and clean as always

“I’ll do the talking,” I said to Kael, as we approached the door. “Let me explain why we’re late. Why I’m late.” Then it dawned on me who I was talking to. A soldier wouldn’t have a problem being quiet, especially not this one.

I really could have used a shot of tequila, or some magic pill to get rid of the race of thoughts tearing at my mind. Distracted by my anxiety, I started to knock on the white wooden door, then realized what I was doing, opened it, and took my shoes off, suddenly mortified that Kael could see I didn’t have matching socks on. He politely took his boots off, setting them next to my little sneakers.

“One of the many rules in this house,” I whispered to him, and he nodded, looking me in the eyes instead of around the room.

He followed me into the kitchen, which was filled with the aroma of honey and cinnamon, and what might have been ham. It smelled like a holiday.

“Hey! You made it. I was getting a little worried . . .” Estelle greeted me like she usually did. Fake. Whether it was excitement or worry, it was all fake.

“Sorry I’m late,” I said. “I had to stay behind a little at work, um . . . and then I was helping Elodie’s friend. I mean, Austin’s friend. Well, he’s sort of everyone’s friend.” I turned to introduce Kael. I was clearly freaking the hell out and we had been in the kitchen for maybe thirty seconds, max.

Estelle wasn’t doing the best job, either, at hiding her surprise over the extra body in the room. “Oh, well . . . hey. Hi! I’m Estelle.” Her big earrings shook with her head, and I found myself sort of using Kael’s body as a shield from her.

My dad was seated at the head of the table when Kael and I entered the dining room. He might have been reading the Army Times or listening to the radio, but no, he was sitting in his king chair in silence. Just waiting. His confused look turned to stone as he stared at us in the entryway. I took him in, sitting there with his craggy face and sparse white hair. It was really thinning now. So was his papery skin. Everyone on my dad’s side of the family turned to snow early. It looked beautiful on the women—at least it did in photographs—but I secretly hoped I would take after my mom, as I always had. She was eternal summer.

My dad moved his eyes off me without any expression on his face and looked at Kael, who took a step back. Instinct or nervousness—who knew? My dad was only a few inches over five feet tall and he was intimidating, even sitting down. He could be soft at times. And when he didn’t want to, he could cut like a knife.

I was waiting for the fallout for being late when my dad finally stood up to shake Kael’s hand, his eyes moving to the name on his chest.

“Martin, nice to—”