Page 37 of Seein’ Red

Nope, that’s a Nash Keller special right there.

“No, I…errrr…I just need to talk to you.”

“Okay.”

Noel doesn’t bother turning around, just keeps clicking away. Seriously? Actually, maybe this is better. This way, I don’t have to look him in the eye as I tell him that I need to uproot his entire life plan.

“I need the house.”

“Not a problem; just let me know when. Bronwyn and I can crash at hers just as easily as ours.”

I suck in a deep breath, holding it for a moment, getting up the courage to correct him. “Not that house. I need the farmhouse.”

Noel stops his clicking. He’s still for a long moment, then swivels around in his chair, staring at me with the famous Keller “huh?!” look—one eye popped up, the other eye squinted, mouth pursed to one side, head tilted. It’s an expression we both make, right along with our father and his father, Pops. From what we’re told, all the Keller men before them also made it.

“I know that you have plans to gift it to Bronwyn for her birthday, and that we agreed, and that I’m going back on that now. And I’ll find a way to make it up to you, but…I need it.”

“You need it?”

“Yes.”

Noel continues to stare, his silence expected but still more than a little uncomfortable at the moment. He’s never been a talker—that’s my role—but now, I could really stand for him to pick up the slack here. Because asking for the farmhouse is a big ask.

A big fucking ask.

He and I have a written, signed agreement from when we bought the ranch house that we converted into our bachelor pad years ago that when the time came, and one of us was ready to settle down, that twin got the farmhouse. The small, modest house that was built over a hundred years ago and has been passed down along with the nursery and the fifty acres it all sits on. The one we grew up in. The one currently occupied by our parents and Pops.

At the time, the agreement seemed fair. Hell, months ago when Noel out of the blue proposed to Bronwyn and told me he wanted to give her the house for her birthday, the agreement seemed fair. They’re getting married. He needed the house.

Until last night. When all of a sudden, I needed it.

“Why?”

“You’re gonna make me say it, aren’t you?”

“Sure the hell am,” he demands.

Yeah, I deserve that. Sucking in another deep breath, I summon courage I haven’t had to tap into since I was a teenager, asking the most beautiful girl I’ve ever known to prom. Even if it was just “as a friend”—or so I claimed.

The irony that it’s the same girl—woman—in question now isn’t lost on me.

Alright, here goes…

“Willa’s pregnant.”

Mouth agape, leaning forward slightly, Noel looks dumbfounded. Which is not something one can often say about my brother. Pretty sure that’s also a Nash Keller special.

“And before you ask⁠—”

He cuts me off, in his own Noel, nonverbal way of standing up, pushing past me, and slamming the office door shut. Turning back to me, still looking bewildered, he points at me.

“Say that again.”

“Willa’s pregnant,” I repeat, feeling even less confident than I did before.

“Not where I thought you were going with that.”

“Where did you think it was going?” I ask, curious to where his brain went.