by Mia Carson
“Was that a yes, you want ice cream, or no?” she called from behind the freezer door.
“No, and you shouldn’t be eating it either,” he said mildly, leaning on the other side of the kitchen island.
Belle shot him a look. “Are you calling me fat?”
“I would never do that, but if you keep eating a gallon of ice cream every three days…” He trailed off and gave her a teasing look until she grabbed the kitchen towel and chucked it at his head. “I’m kidding. You’re beautiful no matter how much ice cream you eat.”
Belle grabbed the tub from the freezer, slammed the door shut, and, never letting her eyes leave his, she fished a spoon from the drawer and dug out a huge mouthful. “Lecture me all you want, I don’t care. This tastes too damn good, and you don’t understand the cravings.”
“I guess not,” he said, “but I know when my future wife is upset and trying to hide it.”
She shoved another spoonful of ice cream in her mouth, staring fixedly at the tub on the counter. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“It’s three in the morning. You really want to play this game?” he asked, a warning in his words. “Are you nervous about meeting Brent? You can always call him and postpone it a week. He’s waited twenty years. I’m sure he’ll understand waiting another week.”
“No,” she stated firmly. “I want to meet him.”
“Okay, then you’ll meet him,” he said. “Who were you calling a bitch in your sleep?”
She stabbed her spoon into the ice cream as a flash of rage he’d never seen in her eyes before appeared. “No one,” she muttered darkly.
“Belle, you’re murdering your ice cream,” he told her gently.
She shoved it aside and pressed her palms flat on the counter. “Remember I told you I tried finding my family?” she started quietly. “That I’d had enough of hoping to actually find them and it really be them?”
He nodded. “You said you never came across anyone, though.”
“Because I didn’t… But someone—this woman—she found me,” she told him, and the rage grew in her eyes. “She found me and she claimed to be my long-lost mommy dearest.”
Greyson’s jaw clenched, hating the pain crossing Belle’s face. “You never told me that.”
“Because I wanted to forget it, all of it. The worst few days of my life when I actually let myself foolishly believe that my mom came to find me after all those years,” she whispered. “God, I hate her. I swore if I ever saw her again, I’d put her in the hospital for what she did to me.”
“Who was she?”
Belle pursed her lips as she shrugged. “No freaking idea. She showed up on campus one day, saying she was sorry she dumped me when I was so little. That she missed me and was finally able to find me again after so long. It was a bunch of bullshit, and I fell for it.” She rubbed her forehead, and Greyson almost wished he hadn’t brought it up, but it’d be better for her to get it all out now instead of when she came face to face with Brent.
“Let me guess. She wanted something,” he said.
“That she did,” she muttered. “Turns out she overheard a few people at the local gallery mention a new young artist—an orphan—came into a tiny bit of money from selling several of her sketches. Course, the money was gone a few days after I got it. I paid off some long overdue credit cards,” she said and smirked, her eyes seeing something not there.
“She worked at the gallery, then?”
“Nope, no one had seen her before. After the incident—after she tried to take my money, rob me in my sleep, and then destroyed a year’s worth of sketches in her rage when I found out what she was up to—she vanished, just like that. The cops put her face up, but it was months before someone came forward.”
Greyson believed it. People weren’t always as honest as they all hoped, which was why he met Brent first, why he waited so long to tell Belle about him. At least he checked out, but that woman and what she did—to try and steal money from an orphan, claiming to be a long-lost parent… It made him sick. “They knew who she was?”
“They knew she was a heroin addict looking for a cheap fix,” she snapped. “She’d been scamming kids all over the campus, but I was too deep into my books to know what was up.”
“Well, I did a background check on Brent, and you’ll be delighted to know he’s never had a run-in with the law,” Greyson assured her, walking around the counter to pull her into his arms. “He’s real, Belle. If you’re still not sure, at least trust me.”
She sighed and fell against him with a soft thud of her cheek against his chest. “I do. I just… that woman screwed me up for a while, you know? I had a glimmer of hope that maybe my mom did want me, and she turned out to be some damn whack job off the street.”
“Brent isn’t a whack job. He’s your brother, and I think it’s time you put your worrying behind you and embraced this, alright? Go back to bed, get some sleep, and in a few hours, you’ll feel a lot better.”
“What if we don’t mesh?”
Greyson shrugged. “I didn’t mesh with the twins for years. Ask them. I pretended they didn’t exist for a whole month. Until mom slapped me upside the head.”
She laughed, and he kissed her sweetly before giving her a gentle nudge towards the hall. She gave in, and once she disappeared, he snuck a spoonful or two of the ice cream, tucked it back in the freezer, and turned off the light. By the time he’d reached the bedroom, her soft snores filled the room and he grinned. Today would be a good day. He felt it, deep in his bones. All he wanted was for Belle to be happy… well, happier, and having family—real family—would mean the world to her.
Belle fiddled with the napkin at the table, tearing it to shreds as she waited. Brent asked where she’d feel the most comfortable meeting, and after Greyson gave her the okay, she invited him to the house for brunch—if she would be able to eat anything at all. All morning, her stomach had rebelled, and she tugged another napkin from the holder on the kitchen table, adding it to the pile of shreds in front of her. Greyson’s heavy boots pounded down the hall, and when his gaze landed on hers, he smiled knowingly.
“You need to relax,” he told her and took the rest of the mangled napkin from her. He kissed the back of both of her hands and set them on the table, sweeping away the mess she made. “You’re freaking out over nothing.”
“I can’t help it,” she muttered, smoothing her hands over her hair. “I feel so ridiculous right now.”
“Why? It’s been twenty years. Just give yourself a break—and him. It’ll be fine, trust me,” he told her. “I’m going to go hide in my office and be out of the way. If you need me, though, just yell, alright?”
Her head bobbed in answer, but no words crossed her lips. He sighed and went to her again, crouching in front of her. “You can do this,” he repeated just as the doorbell chimed. Belle flinched, but Greyson steadied her with a kiss. “Go answer the door and meet your brother.” He stood and slipped away from her outstretched hand as he crept into his office and closed the door.
Belle stared after him blankly as the doorbell rang again. “Right,” she said and pushed to her feet. “I can do this. I am a strong, unstoppable, crazy, spitfire of a woman, and I can do this.”
She shook her hair out of her face, tugged her shirt down, and strolled to the front door. When her hand was on the knob, she paused only for a moment to suck in one final steadying breath before she yanked it open and came face to face with Brent.
“Hi,” the man on the porch said brightly but quietly, blinking as if to hold back tears. “I… uh, I’m Brent and you… you must be Belle.”
He held out his hand for her to take, but as Belle stared at his face, something clicked. Her heart pounded faster and her stomach clenched… not out of nerves, but something so much more. She glanced down at his hand, and before she knew what she was doing, she wrapped her arms around him in a tight embrace. Brent sighed, thanking God quietly in her ear, and hugged her back.
“Hi,” she said, muffled against his shoulder. “I can’t believe you found me.”
He nodded, and when she leaned back, wetness covered her cheeks and his. He grinned and wiped the tears away with his hand, fumbling for words. “I can’t… I can’t either,” he said. “I just… wow, you look just like Mom.”
Belle smiled sadly. “You remember what she looked like?”
He shrugged as she dragged him inside behind her. “Vaguely… very vaguely, but I used to dream about her all the time, and you. You look beautiful, and may I?” he asked, nodding to her pregnant belly.
Belle nodded, and he placed a hand gently on her little baby bump. “Yeah, never thought this would happen, and here I am.”
“I’m so happy for you both,” Brent said and hugged her again. “I’m sorry if this is weird, but I’ve been looking for you for so damn long, and then I gave up when I couldn’t find any trace of Mom or Dad, figure out why she abandoned us in the first place, and then I turned into a drunk, but got clean and now, I paint.”
Belle burst out laughing, and he frowned at her for a second until she waved her hand at him. “Sorry. Greyson’s always going on about how I ramble when I’m nervous, but I never noticed. Looks like our eyes aren’t the only family trait we share.”
Brent joined in her laughter. “I've always done it.”
“Want anything to drink or eat? I’m not really hungry—morning sickness—but I can fix you something… or attempt to,” she said and tapped her chin, staring at the kitchen. “Maybe we should’ve gone out.”
“Let me guess, you burn water, too?”
She opened her mouth to say no but then clamped her lips shut. She moved into the kitchen towards the coffee maker. “Cooking was never my strong suit. I can make you coffee, though.”
“I’ll take it,” he said and followed, keeping to the other side of the island. He glanced around, and when his eyes landed on one of her sketches, he rushed towards it. Belle grinned. “This detailing is amazing. Is this one yours?”
“All the framed sketches are, but some of the digital work is Greyson’s,” she said, pointing them out around the house. “He never hung any of his work up, so I did it for him.”
Brent nodded and moved around the kitchen, then to the living room, taking in every sketch and framed piece of work with a critical eye. He muttered quietly under his breath as he went, and by the time he made it back to her in the kitchen where a steaming cup of coffee waited for him, his eyes were wide with amazement.
“You really are talented,” he told her with a sad smile. “I’m sorry, you know.”
“For what?” she asked. “You’re not the one who dumped us at a church.” The words came out harsher than she’d meant, and she hung her head, which was filled with so many questions. Greyson knew the story, but said it’d be better if she heard everything from Brent. Theirs wasn’t Greyson’s story to tell. “Can you… can you tell me what you remember?”
He tapped his fingers on the rim of his mug and nodded. “I can, but I don’t remember too much.”
“Why don’t we go sit outside on the patio?” she suggested and led the way outside.
The morning was already warm, but Belle always liked the sun and the heat. She rested a hand on her belly as she sat on the cushioned couch and Brent took the seat beside her. He set his coffee aside, looking around the backyard, and smiled.
“Never thought one of us would wind up in a place like this,” he whispered. “But damn, I’m glad you did. I was so worried all those years, worried you’d wind up in a worse state than me… a drunk, a druggie… They never told me where you were. I asked all the time, ran away a few times too, determined to find you,” he said angrily. “But they always dragged me back.”
Belle laid her hand on his when his eyes welled up again. “It wasn’t so bad for me,” she promised. “A few bad foster homes, but nothing I couldn’t handle.”
“We were so damn little when they found us. I begged them to keep you with me… cried, screamed, but they took you away in your blanket and I… I never saw you again,” he told her quietly. “They only ever said Mom’s name, Penelope, one time. No matter how many times I asked though, no one could say why she abandoned us.”
Brother and sister sat in silence on the couch, listening to the birds chirping behind them. Belle didn’t know what to say and worried she’d pushed too hard, but this moment between them wasn’t awkward. It was comfortable, in a weird way, knowing she was no longer alone in her pain of that day so long ago. The day they were abandoned.
“Mom’s the only one I remember,” he said, not looking at her. “Her eyes, just like ours, and her smile that was full of life and fire… I remember how sad she was the day she left us behind. You wouldn’t stop crying, and all I could do was hold you and sing to you like she did. The only damn song you ever liked when you were a baby.”
Belle wasn’t sure what he hummed. Her ears perked up and a faint memory tugged at her mind. Her eyes slid closed as the tune washed over her, and suddenly, she heard two voices, a woman and a little boy? They sang the song he did, the one she stumbled across as a child and fell in love with.
“The Parting Glass…” She trailed off as her eyes opened and she met the same blue eyes of her brother. “I remember it… She must have sung it to me.”
She hugged him, and they laughed and cried together, singing the whole song word for word through their tears. Belle knew in her heart, in that moment, there was no more room for doubts about who Brent was. He was her older brother. She’d found her family and she was never going to let him disappear.
When they settled down a little while later, she asked about the rest of their family. “No aunts or uncles? What about our grandparents?”
“I haven’t been able to track down anything about Dad or his side,” he told her, “but I’m close to finding Mom’s parents and maybe they can give us a lead on tracking her down. She didn’t leave a trace, wherever she went. I have a buddy who lives in Canada, and the last trail I found said our grandparents were there, but every time I get close, they vanish.”
“You think they don’t want us to find them?” she asked quietly. “You think Mom might be with them, running from us?”
“I don’t know. I’ve reached out and never heard anything back, so I’m going to assume yes on the not wanting to be found, but I refuse to believe Mom’s with them,” he said and sighed. “If nothing else, they can at least maybe tell us what happened, why she gave us up and why they didn’t take us in.”
“If you find them, I want to go with you.”
Brent smiled. “You’re sure?”
“Yeah, I am. They’re our only connection to Mom, where she might be, and maybe they can even tell us about Dad—where he might be. We’re their grandkids. We have a right to know them.”
He nodded. “Well then, as soon as I know anything, I’ll come get you and we can go together.”
“Perfect.” Her stomach twisted in knots at the idea of finding more relatives, and maybe learning why, if their mom had to give them up, their grandparents didn’t take them in. Belle’s mind raced with the possibilities of what would cause parents to turn their backs on their son and daughter. She’d tell Greyson about it later and hopefully, he’d be on board with it.
“Absolutely not,” Greyson said after they’d walked Brent out and closed the door behind him. He turned around to find Belle glaring at him, her arms crossed over her chest and toe tapping the floor. “Don’t give me that look. You’re not taking off to Canada with a guy you just met!”
“He’s my brother,” she argued. “Weren’t you the one who said I needed to trust him?”
“Yeah, to meet him, not gallivant off to another country to track grandparents who may or may not be yours.”
He clenched his hands into tight fists as his worry and anger warred with each other. He’d left his office an hour earlier to find Belle and Brent on the back patio, laughing hysterically as they talked about their chi
ldhoods. His heart lightened because Belle was so happy, but Brent filled him in on what he planned on doing. The second Belle said she was game for tagging along, Greyson wanted to deck the guy for even bringing it up.
“Why can’t I go?” she demanded.
“Why? First, they might not even be your real grandparents. Second, you just met this man and you want to fly off with him? What if he’s still an alcoholic? What if—”
“What if I get in another car accident and die? Or what if I stress out too much and lose the baby?” she snapped. “There will always be risks, but this is my family. They can tell us about our mom, and maybe… maybe my dad is still alive.”
Greyson frowned and hung his head. “Brent said your mom is dead?”
Belle shrugged one shoulder and pushed her tongue against her lip. “We don’t know for sure.”
He grumbled and leaned his hip against the counter, torn about what to do.
“I have to know,” Belle whispered. “I have to know what happened to them. What if they’re both still alive and need help? What if there’s a good reason for everything that happened to me? You really want me going around the rest of my life not knowing?”
“Of course not,” he growled and cursed under his breath. “How about this? Just hear me out before you start yelling again.”
She closed her mouth and nodded for him to go on.
“I have to be out of the office Monday and Tuesday, but after that, if Brent tracks them down, you can go, but I’m coming with you, understand? You’re not going to Canada or wherever without me. Promise me, Belle. I want to hear those words come out of your mouth.”
She rushed to him and hugged him tightly. “I promise. Thanks, Greyson, I knew I loved you for a reason.”
He rested his chin on her head. He wanted to believe her, but there was a tone in her voice he’d never heard, an edge that hadn’t been there before. Pushing her would only start another fight and she’d had enough excitement for one day. He scooped her up into his arms as she giggled and carried her to their bedroom for a nice relaxing late-afternoon romp in the bed. Anything to distract them both from the ideas running through her mind of taking off without him. He saw it in her eyes and wondered how much trouble he’d get in if he locked her in the house until he could go with her to Canada.
