Page 96 of Seein’ Red

She looks both surprised yet not, simply taking a step backward, giving me room to move. I can tell she wants to say something. Feels obligated to have some sort of comment—something comforting or wise. Yet, hovering below that is a fear that whatever she says will make this worse.

I’m not sure it can get worse, but we also don’t need to tempt fate here either.

With a curt nod, I turn to go and am out the door before either of us has a chance to change our mind. Only problem is, I don’t have any idea where to go. Twenty of the fifty acres the Keller family farmhouse and nursery sit on are dedicated to Christmas trees. I could take a walk over there, see how the saplings are progressing.

Then again, they’re saplings. I know how they’re progressing—slowly. It takes seven to ten years to grow the trees we sell every year to the perfect height. It’s not a fast process, and everything we planted after the last holiday season is barely poking up out of the soil yet.

I’m also not Noel; trees don’t bring me joy.

As if thinking about him summoned him from thin air, my twin appears from the barn. Our eyes meet and he nods, slowly making his way to me.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

To an outsider, our one-word conversation probably might as well be grunts. But Noel understands me. Maybe it’s the shared womb thing, maybe it’s just a lifetime together. Either way, no one gets me like he does.

Willa came close. Damn close. So close it was scary. The connection she and I shared, though, was different from the one I have with my brother. Still just as powerful, but it had a spark to it that lit me up every time I thought about it. A spark that is still trying to flicker now.

Each new glint another stab straight to the gut.

My stomach twists, heart clenching right along with it, forcing me to sit. I crash down on the step, not wanting to let my emotions get the best of me. I’ve held back the tears so far, but I’m not sure how much longer I can maintain that status. The pain is simply too overwhelming.

What can take the great Nash Keller out at the knees? Only one thing—Willa Hayes.

“Guess I won’t be needing the house,” I say, my voice full of bitterness.

“Might still.” Noel parks himself next to me, slapping me on the back. “Never know.”

“No, give it to Bee, like we planned. Let her make this her home.”

Noel nods his silent thank you, the appreciation in his eyes overflowing. “Doesn’t mean that⁠—”

“You heard her. She hates me.”

“She’s upset. That’s what Willa does when she’s upset. She lashes out.”

He makes a good point. Willa’s defense mechanisms have been the same since we were little—yelling, pushing others out, and when things got real bad, name-calling. She can put up her walls faster than a palmetto bug can skitter away from light and have her boxing gloves on in the blink of an eye. All of which was on display this morning.

Slapping me on the back again, Noel turns to look at me. “You’re just gonna have to prove to her that she’s wrong.”

“Ha!” I bark. “And just how do you suppose I do that?”

“May I suggest starting with a good grovel?”

I roll my eyes at the suggestion, because if there is one thing Noel Keller knows nothing about, it’s groveling. I don’t know that he and Bronwyn have ever even had a real fight.

“Dude, there isn’t enough groveling in the world for this one.”

“Nonsense!”

Both our heads pop up instantly, like two animatronic rodents in a whack-a-mole game. Our grandfather is standing not ten feet from us, hands on his hips, staring us down. As the oldest living Keller, Pops is used to getting the last word in.

“Come again?”

“There’s no such thing as too much groveling if you mucked up enough. Though, you play your cards right and you won’t have to grovel for very long.”

He waggles his eyebrows, insinuating something I don’t want to think about when it comes to him and Grandma Keller, may she rest in peace.