Page 9 of Branded Souls (Ember Hollow Romance #3)

Skye

I ’d been planning this visit for a couple of days, but my hands still shook as I drove up to my old family home.

It was small, but less run-down than I remembered.

This was the house I grew up in, where it all began.

The house where I learned to keep quiet, and where I learned pain.

A shiver skittered down my spine. I picked at my skin without abandon.

I didn’t have the mental capacity to even try to stop myself.

I’d been surprised when I’d researched my brother and realized that he still lived here.

My heart skipped a beat, pounding so fast it was physically painful. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath as fear spiked through me.

Could my heart literally burst?

I pressed a hand to my chest, speaking low to myself. “You’re okay. You’re not dying.”

It took me a moment to chase what I knew was an irrational fear away.

A heart couldn’t burst from this. At least, I was pretty sure it wasn’t going to.

I’d gotten used to controlling the random panic that had plagued me since I’d almost died in front of Fox when we were only eighteen.

Sometimes, my body tried to convince me I was dying for no good reason.

When my heart and panic were under control, I opened my eyes and glanced back at the house. It had been so long since I’d seen my brother. The prospect of seeing him, looking him in the eye, was terrifying and exciting.

Guilt stirred within me as I remembered the last words I’d said to Ash. I’ll be back for you.

I pulled at the skin around my thumbnail.

I’d had every plan to come back for my little brother when I finished college.

Had every intention of staying in contact with him.

But it was almost impossible. Our controlling father wouldn’t let me.

Every time I tried to call, it was intercepted.

He took away Ash’s phone, his social media…

anything I could contact him with. I’d even shown up here after my first semester, in the middle of the night, hoping I could slip into his bedroom window, but our father caught me.

As a local beat cop, he still had more power over me than I’d wanted to admit.

He said if I ever showed up on his property again, I’d be thrown in the county jail. Or worse. And I believed him. I stayed away, lost contact with my brother, and staved off the eroding guilt by keeping myself busy with life and my career.

Tears burned in my eyes, and I sucked in a steadying breath. It was time. I didn’t care what my father did to me anymore. My brother was a grown man now who could make his own decisions.

Steeling myself, I stepped out of my vehicle. I curled my hands into fists, squeezing so hard my nails bit into my palms. It didn’t stop the tremble in my limbs .

I scanned the small yard, senses on high alert.

The windows were dark, but I looked for any sign of my father’s stare peeking out at me.

There was no movement. No indication he was ready to pop out at me.

My nerves eased a fraction. Maybe no one was home.

The thought comforted me, but would also be inconvenient. I needed to talk to Ash.

My past life flashed before me as I stepped up onto the bare concrete slab in front of the door. This place felt like home and a nightmare all at once.

There was no doorbell. There never had been. No door knocker. I opened the rusting metal storm door, wincing at the squeal the hinge made, and then banged my fist on the front door.

Silence.

I shifted on my feet, propping the storm door open with my hip. My heart still raced, almost making me dizzy. I pulled in lungfuls of fresh air, trying to talk myself out of bolting back to the car.

“I’m not dying,” I whispered low to myself. “I’m just scared.”

It annoyed me that sometimes my brain wanted me to think that any little odd physical sensation in my body was something silently killing me. I’d gotten so much better through the years at keeping the panic attacks at bay, but still, in times of great stress like this, my grip was harder to keep.

Then I heard footsteps.

My skin broke out in a sweat, but it wasn’t my father. The sound of his thumping feet through the house was ingrained into my memory. The cadence was off.

The lock flipped on the door and it opened .

My breath caught in my throat as I met his mossy-green eyes for the first time in years. He had been a kid when I left. A teenager. But the person looking back at me, stare widening, was all man.

His strong jaw was covered in a short beard, his face was…fuller somehow. More masculine. He was almost a whole head taller than me now, his body no longer lanky, but muscled and broad.

He blinked at me a few times, like he wasn’t sure what he was seeing was real. “S-Skye?” he choked out, and my heart twinged at the catch in his voice.

My jaw fell open. I wasn’t sure what I had been expecting. Maybe I’d stopped myself from wondering what he looked like as a man, but this was…overwhelming.

“Ash?” I squeaked, part of me doubting this was actually him.

He stared at me a beat longer, and then he surged forward. He wrapped his arms around me, squeezing me so tight I couldn’t breathe.

“Holy shit,” he muttered in my ear. “It is you!”

I froze as his scent hit me. It smelled like our childhood with a hint of masculine soap I didn’t recognize.

When I didn’t respond, or even breathe for that matter, his arms loosened. His body tensed, and he carefully dropped his arms. I braced my weak knees as he stepped back, his eyes brimming with unshed tears.

He cleared his throat. “Sorry.” He rubbed the back of his neck. His hair was shorter, too. Cropped close to his head instead of falling over his ears and forehead. “I just…I’d heard you were in town, but I didn’t know you’d show up here.”

Even his voice was different. Deeper. More gravelly. Like he’d abused it over the years .

When I finally caught my breath, I stammered, “You heard I was here?”

Ash looked at me like it was a ridiculous question; the familiar expression made some of the nervous tension lessen.

“Skye, you’re pretty much the talk of the town. Even the guys at the shop can’t quit bringing up you and the documentary.”

I knew people were talking, despite my effort to keep it on the down-low, but it was always stunning how fast and wide news spread.

“The…shop?”

He nodded. “Yeah, I work at Ember Hollow Truck and Tire.”

“You’re a mechanic?” I was having a hard time wrapping my mind around this man being my little brother.

Ash smiled, and there he was. There was something about a smile that made someone appear younger, and I caught a glimpse of the boy I’d left behind.

“We have a lot to talk about.” He threw a thumb over his shoulder. “Do you want to come in?”

I glanced into the house. It was dark inside, though it was in the middle of the day. Fear crawled up my spine. I picked at the side of my nail.

My eyes met Ash’s. “Um…” I hesitated. “Is—is he in there?”

Heat rushed to my face. I couldn’t even bring myself to say his name.

Something shifted in Ash’s demeanor. A dark, stony expression that I definitely did not recognize flickered over his features. “No. He doesn’t live here anymore.”

I frowned. “He doesn’t?”

There was a beat of silence where he didn’t move, and then he shook his head. “No. ”

He didn’t elaborate. Every fiber of my curious heart wanted to ask why. And I would ask it, but not right now.

“Oh,” was all I said in answer. Leaving the questions to linger in silence awhile longer.

Ash gave me another smile, but it was cautious this time. “Do you want to come in?”

I glanced back into the house. Knowing that our father wasn’t here made me feel like I could breathe. I nodded. “Okay.”

Going inside the house felt like walking into the past. The back of my neck prickled as I stepped through the front door and into the living room.

It looked different now, though. The old, plaid furniture had been replaced with a simple brown matching sofa and chair.

What had once been carpet was now a gray laminate.

The walls were painted, too. They’d been a dark blue when I was little, and the soft cream color brightened the space despite the lack of light.

I followed my brother into the kitchen. There was a small round table in the corner. The cabinets had been painted white instead of the dark grain wood they had been growing up.

It was so different, but also the same in many ways.

I swallowed down the memories that choked me as Ash, my little brother, pulled out one of the two chairs at the table.

“You doing okay?”

I cleared my throat. “Yeah…of course.” I took the seat, shifting my large bag into my lap and gripping it tight to my chest.

Ash gave me a knowing look. “It’s been awhile since you’ve been here.”

It’d been more than awhile.

I glanced around the space again. Even though the memories felt like ghosts hovering in the corners of these rooms, it did feel different. Better.

“The house looks nice,” I said.

Ash grabbed a jug of iced tea from the fridge and poured a couple of glasses. “Thanks. I couldn’t burn the place down, but I could cover some of the ugliness with paint so…that’s what I did.”

He set a glass down in front of me and took the remaining seat.

I blinked at him. This wasn’t at all what I had been expecting. My brother offering a glass of iced tea in the home of our traumatized childhood hadn’t been on my bingo card.

I let out a heavy breath. “I—I don’t know what to say to you.”

It was the simplest thing I could think of. What was I supposed to say to the brother I had abandoned? How did I express the depth of my guilt and sorrow to the sibling I had left alone with the abusive man who was our father?

Ash pressed his lips against what I thought might’ve been a smile, but that didn’t make sense.

“You?” His brows arched. “I never thought I’d see the day my sister was speechless.”

He did smile then, a small, melancholy one that didn’t seem genuine.