Page 43 of Holding Hope

“Colton’s back.”

Delia froze. Her fingers paused mid-tuck behind her ear. A storm of emotions flickered across her face—too fast for me to read. And I could always read Delia. She was written in bold lettering.

“That’s great,” she said evenly. “I’m sure your parents are happy.”

I nodded, twisting the frayed edge of the blanket draped over the couch. “Mama’s thrilled to have her baby home. Dad put him to work immediately.”

I chuckled softly. No one expected him home so early—Pelican Fly Day was still two weeks away—but his arrival had been a pleasant surprise.

Mostly.

There was one detail about his return that twisted like a knife in my stomach.

Just say it.

“Are you happy he’s home?” Delia asked, staring at her palms. “I know how much you miss him when he’s away.”

“I love my brother,” I said. “You know that. I just⁠—”

My voice faltered.

“He wants to get married this summer.”

Delia’s head snapped up, jealousy and anger flashing in her green eyes. “To fucking who?”

She sat back, running her hands down her legs as if trying to soothe herself.

“You have to tell me, Clarke. That fucking bastard.”

Confusion washed over me. This was not the reaction I expected. Jealousy, maybe—but not… tears?

“I—he—” I took a breath. “You.”

Delia let out a loud cackle, slapping her hands over her mouth. “Well, now I look stupid.”

I placed a hand on her knee. Her eyes dropped to it. “Did something happen between you two?”

Her pale skin flushed bright pink. “What? No⁠—”

“Don’t lie. It’s written all over you.”

Delia groaned and buried her face in her hands, mumbling something I couldn’t make out.

“What?” I pried her hands away gently. “What happened? I won’t judge.”

She bit her bottom lip. “Last summer. When he visited for Pelican Fly Day.”

I remembered last summer—the shortest summer of my life. I’d been preparing for my sophomore album, scrambling for inspiration. Colton had been home, restless and clingy, constantly poking his head into my room, begging me to hang out. I’d been too busy. I told him no more times than I could count.

“Find someone else,” I’d said.

And I guess he had.

“He was at Patsy’s Bar,” Delia said softly. “Drinking with old friends. I think he got left behind or didn’t want to ride Demeter drunk. He wandered onto my parents’ property.”

Her eyes softened at the memory. “He scared the horses. Fell into the water trough. He was soaking wet when I found him, curls stuck to his face…”

Her voice drifted off. Thank God. I did not need to hear about how beautiful my brother looked.