Page 48 of Pretty Broken Doll

Maybe for you. I’m always held accountable when it comes to Ronin’s expectations, but I keep that thought to myself as I grab my wallet and keys. “What time should I be there? And text me the address.”

“I’m heading over now.”

Twenty minutes later, after a quick trip to the store for wine, I pull up in front of a charming Victorian-style home in the Queen Anne neighborhood. The house is made of brick, with a covered porch and small spire that showcases several lit windows.

Declan’s already parked outside, leaning against his Lexus, and he chokes out a laugh when I step onto the curb.

“Are you trying to show me up or something?” He gestures down to his loose button-up as I roll my eyes.

“I was preparing for dinner at Dad’s, remember? There was no time to change.”

“Yeah, well, they’ll probably like you better than me now. And you even brought the good wine.”

“It felt wrong to crash someone else’s family dinner empty-handed.”

We make our way up a set of concrete steps lined with neatly trimmed bushes, a garden full of autumn flowers blooming beneath a large bay window. Dec rings the bell, his fingers twitching at his sides. I notice the telltale sign of nerves immediately, and when he catches me looking, he shoves a hand into his pocket with a crooked grin, his green eyes distant.

Much like me, he was never the relationship type—though there was a girl back in college who broke his heart. He didn’t even get close to meeting her parents, so this feels like a pretty big deal for him.

Firing off a quick email to let Ronin know I won’t be making it tonight, I shove my phone into my pocket just as Paige flings open the door in a tan sweater dress that hangs off one shoulder. When she sees Declan, her gaze lights up, but widens in surprise as it swings toward me.

“Oh.” She pauses, a confused smile tugging at her lips. “You brought a plus one?”

Dec jabs a thumb in my direction. “Yeah, hope that’s alright. Big baby Ry didn’t want to face our stepmother’s family alone.”

I shove his shoulder as Paige snorts.

“The more, the merrier,” she says, spinning on the heel of her black boots. “Come on in. I’ll let Mom know to set another spot at the table. Dad’s going to be thrilled.”

We step into a large sitting room, hardwood floors covered with a deep red oriental rug. Flames crackle beneath a white brick hearth decorated in autumn decor, and framed photographs hang above a curved-back Chesterfield sofa. A staircase leads up to the second floor on our left, steps covered in a gold runner that casts a warm and inviting glow. Delicious scents of food tickle my nostrils.

My phone buzzes in my pocket, no doubt my father’s response, but I ignore it as my curiosity pulls me toward the pictures on the wall. They appear to be family photos, taken several years ago, somewhere in the Grand Canyon, maybe?

Furrowing my brow, I lean in closer to one frame. A teenage Shilo stares back at me, looking… very different. Instead of his familiar shaggy purple waves, his hair is buzzed short and dark, his cheeks round and reddened with a sunburn. He’s scowling at the camera, standing beside a broader man who bears a strong resemblance—his father, I’m sure.

Other photos show school portraits, and the boy in them is robust, with a fuller build and softer features. It’s undeniably Shilo, the pale skin and blue eyes are unmistakable, but he’s not the petite little doll I’ve come to know.

Paige mentioned bullies in school.

Is this the reason he won’t take his shirt off?

“Well, I’ll be damned.” A deep voice snaps me out of my thoughts, and I turn to see the larger man from the photos striding toward me, his wide grin a mirror image of his daughter’s. “Ryann Callahan, in my house? Is this Christmas?”

He bypasses Declan entirely, thrusting out a meaty palm for me to shake. I blink at it momentarily before clasping my hand around his firm grip.

“Mr. Reed, I presume?”

“Please, call me Mark.” He claps me on the back, hard enough to sting, brown eyes twinkling. “I used to watch your college games. Couldn’t believe you didn’t go pro.”

Right. Shilo mentioned his dad was a fan of college basketball. I’d forgotten.

I open my mouth to respond, but Paige interrupts, placing a hand on her father’s shoulder. “Before this gets too out of hand…” She pulls an uncomfortable looking Dec to her side. “Dad, this is Declan.”

Mark’s attention shifts to my brother, his gaze appraising. He reaches out to shake Declan’s hand. “You play ball too, son?”

“Lacrosse, sir.”

The man flicks his hand at that, dismissing them both before steering me away to God knows where. Over my shoulder, I lock eyes with a smirking Paige and silently mouth help. She ignores me, tugging Declan into what looks like a kitchen, at least from what little I can see, before I’m swallowed up inside a study.