Until You (The Redemption, #1)(2)

Bedrooms are picked—Paige decides on the yellow one and Addy on the tan one—even though I know they’ll most likely be sleeping in the same one seeing as they rarely leave each other’s sides. But I cautiously accept their decisions. They came way too easy for this dad, who is used to them bickering over more things than not despite being each other’s best friend.

I peek into the primary bedroom that has more space than I’ll ever need. The bed against the wall has a brand-new mattress wrapped in plastic. Large windows framed by a seat face the west. The en suite bath has a walk-in shower and a freestanding tub.

Everything is absolutely gorgeous.

I knew my great Uncle Ian had had the place remodeled a few years back, but this is most definitely not what I expected. He’s more the half-finished projects and overstated décor type of guy if my memory serves me right.

That’s why I agreed to take him up on his offer: come to Redemption Falls and fix up a few things on his house that needed to be repaired before he puts it on the market in late September.

Some handyman work and a bit of manual labor in exchange for a place to stay for the next four months.

Not a bad deal for me.

But this is anything but the half-finished projects I expected.

“Awesome.”

“So cool.”

The girls’ repeated comments follow me through the house as I check out every room. Habit has me noting where doors and windows are for the state-of-the-art alarm system I agreed to facilitate the installation of over the coming days.

Even when I’m on mandatory leave from the force, it’s still in my blood.

It’s a hard thing to get used to. Being a cop but not allowed to be one. I run a hand over my right flank, the hardened scar tissue beneath my shirt a stark reminder of another reason I’m standing here. Why I stepped away from Chicago for the two girls giggling as they tromp down the stairs one after the other.

“We’ve decided the extra room up there will become our influencer room,” Paige says, matter of fact.

“Influencer room?” I ask, inwardly groaning as I set down the few bags of groceries we picked up on our way through town.

“Yep. People love twins. We’ll put up a backdrop—”

“Sequins or plain on the backdrop?” Addy interjects.

“We’ll have one of each. Variety is important. And then we’ll get that ring light Dad said we could have and—”

“A tripod to hold the phone.”

“This is gonna be so awesome,” Paige finishes for both of them. And as if practiced, they both angle their heads and look at me expectantly. “Right, Dad?”

My sigh is an audible resignation to the fact that watching a million more hair and makeup tutorials are on my horizon. There’s only so much a man can handle, and honestly, I’m about there. “Yeah, sure. So awesome. But I’m not exactly thrilled with you putting your faces out there on the Internet. I will be the one in control of what gets posted. No real names. No indication of where you are. There are a lot of—”

“Bad people out there who want to do bad things.” Addy rolls her eyes and huffs while Paige mouths the refrain they’ve heard about as many times as I’ve watched beauty tutorials.

“Aren’t you the one who says every situation can have a compromise?” Paige asks with a bat of her lashes and a nudge to her sister she thinks I don’t see.

I know when I’m being tag-teamed, and right now, no doubt, I am.

“I am,” I say with a nod as I start pulling the food out of the bags and setting each item on the counter beside me.

“Why do you do that?” Paige asks.

“Do what?” Are we still talking about Internet safety? Being an influencer? What?

“Take all the food out of the bag and put it on the counter? Why don’t you just take it from the bag straight to the cupboard?”

My hand stills as I’m about to set a jar of pasta sauce on the kitchen counter. She has a point. “It’s something . . .” your mother used to do. The words die on my lips, and I force a smile to hide it. “Never mind. You know what? You’re right.” I walk over to the pantry with the grocery bag in hand and start placing its contents on the shelves without rhyme or reason. I know I’ll stock it fully later this week and will be reorganizing it, but for now, it’ll do.

The few items look measly on the bare pantry shelves, but we have a pantry, and that’s more than we had at our old place where we used a coat closet to store our food.

Now to find the plates in the mess of boxes I brought in from the back of the truck. With my hands on my hips, I contemplate the ten boxes stacked in the kitchen, cursing myself for not labeling any of them.

“There’s a letter here from your whoever he is,” Addy says, pointing to a stack of papers on the end of the counter.

“He’s my great uncle, which means he’s your great, great uncle,” I say and set the last of the groceries down.

“Wow. This person is really pissed at you.”

“Language,” I warn as I turn around to see her shuffling through said stack of papers. “One, quit being so nosy. And two, who’s mad at me?”

“The person who wrote these.” She holds up the haphazard pile. “And they were just here for me to look at them. Aren’t you the one who says whatever is left out is fair game?”