Only When It's Us (Bergman Brothers #1)(68)

Damn. I never thought of it like that.

Mama shifts in bed and tries to hide a grimace. It snaps me out of my thoughts. “What’s going on, Mama?”

She sighs. “I just can’t get comfortable.”

Sadness, guilt, worry churn in my stomach. “What can I do?”

“Nothing.” Mama burrows into her blanket and shakes her head. “Nothing to be done.”

That’s not okay. I glance at my phone. Her nurse is taking her break and isn’t due back for another half hour. I’m not letting my mom shake with pain for thirty minutes. I’m fixing this. Now.

I pull out my phone and dial the number Dr. B gave me. He answers after the third ring.

“Everything all right?” he asks.

“Mama’s hurting. Can you come down—”

“Be right there.”

The line’s dead before I can sigh in relief.

Dr. B’s whipping open the door within thirty seconds, his attention on Mama. Just as he’s shutting the door behind him, a shriek echoes from the hallway, followed by a man’s laugh.

Chills soar up my spine. I know that sound. Dr. B freezes. Mama’s attention darts from the door to me.

I eye the door that leads to Dr. B’s home. I haven’t once used it. I have no clue what the rest of the house looks like. A few times, I’ve heard the peal of laughter, the happy echo of voices in a kitchen. It sounds like a big family that sits at the dining room table and hangs out. The idea is completely foreign to me.

Mama sees me staring at the door. “Willa, what’s the matter with you?”

“I just heard something.”

There’s that man’s laugh again. The hair on my arms and neck stands on end.

I’m unaware of Mama and Dr. B, as I rush out the door. My steps are soft down the hall that’s dark and quiet, tucked away from the rest of the house. But with each step I take, noise grows and light sends long beams across the polished floors. With each step, I’m greeted by the fragrant smells of cooking and happy sounds. I stand on the edge of the wing, facing a large foyer, blinded by the beauty of their home. Airy white walls, clean lines. Natural wood, linen drapes, tall windows.

I’m dumbstruck, startled by a flame-colored blob flying past me, followed by a taller blob of straw yellow. On a delay, my brain processes that it’s a redheaded girl and a blond boy, their feet tapping a futsal ball, a small, weighted ball meant for practicing touches and control. It’s pretty much perfect if you want to play soccer inside without breaking anything. The ball’s too heavy to get up in the air.

They whip past me, not even noticing I’m there, and disappear into a large open room to the left. There’s a long table with a few people seated at the far end, their hands around mugs of tea as they play a board game. A woman’s silhouette is deeper in the room, tall, with shoulder-length blonde hair. She’s lean and willowy, and when she turns in profile, my heart catches in my throat. I know that nose.

My brain’s in denial. I heard his laugh. She has his nose. But that’s impossible. It’s a coincidence. Ryder’s nose is just…well, it’s a perfect nose. A gorgeous woman would have a perfect nose.

I walk timidly toward the echoing room, as my hands shake. One of the people at the table glances up. A man with dark brown hair and bright green eyes. This time, my heart’s pounding in my ears. I know those eyes, too.

Yes, dummy, you do. They’re Dr. B’s eyes. This guy’s most likely his son, anyway.

The man straightens in his seat, eyes locked on me while he calls, “Mom?”

The woman doesn’t seem to hear him. Her hands and eyes are focused on a food task.

“Mom,” the man says again. There’s a bite to his voice that earns her attention.

Finally, she looks up. I stare at her as nausea churns my stomach. I know so many of those features. I know the tops of those cheekbones. That smooth, tall brow. Those wide-set eyes, except hers are quicksilver blue.

I have to be imagining things. There’s no way, there’s just…

The woman rushes toward me, the urgent set in her features reminding me even more of Ryder. I have to be hallucinating. It’s because I miss him something stupid, because I’m stressed and lonely. I want his tree-branch arms wrapping me in a solid hug, his pine and cedar scent, the whisper of his flannel against my skin, the press of his lips to my crazy hair.

She practically drags me to a seat at the table and sits me down. “There now, s?tnos,” she murmurs.

I stare at her dazedly. “What did you say?”

She smiles softly. “It’s just an endearment.” Her voice is tinged with an accent I can’t place. Her vowels are round and lilting, her consonants landing at the front of pursed lips. “Are you okay, Willa?”

I nod slowly as embarrassment burns my cheeks and reality sinks in. God, how embarrassing. I have no business being here. I’m hearing his laugh, seeing his features in these people. I’m imagining all these invisible connections to Ryder, in a roomful of strangers who are trying not to stare at me curiously, but mostly failing.

Elin sets her hand over mine. This is the first I’ve met her, but I’m not surprised she knew who I was. I look just like Mama. I stare at her dumbly, noting that she’s ridiculously beautiful.

“Can I get you anything?” she asks quietly.