I watched as Harlow walked to the kitchen and waited until she was far enough ahead before looking at Reese. “Let me see your hand,” I said softly, trying to ease her tension. It was clear I made her nervous when I was frustrated.
She started to argue. I could see it in her eyes, but she relented and held out her hand to me. I unwrapped it gently and took in the pink, puckered skin. It wasn’t infected, but it was abused from cleaning. She needed to put some ice and salve on it.
“I’m getting you some ice. Come on,” I told her, holding her wrist and pulling her to walk in front of me.
“I really wish you wouldn’t. Harlow will feel bad that I cleaned her house today.”
She was worried about Harlow. Why did this not surprise me? “It’s fine. Harlow will want you to take care of yourself.”
She walked into the kitchen and over to the table, where Harlow was motioning for her to sit.
My relaxing visit with Harlow had just become something different altogether. I walked to the freezer and fixed a bag of ice. Harlow had sat down at the table across from Reese, but I could feel her eyes on me. My sister was reading more into this than there was.
Reese
This was so awkward.
Harlow was the “sweetheart” he had talked to yesterday. That much I had figured out. She’d mentioned him not being able to make it to see her last night. Which I felt terrible about. And now, here I was again, interrupting their visit. Mase obviously adored his sister, and she felt the same way about him. I had no siblings and no clue what that must feel like.
“Kiro called you?” Mase asked, looking at his sister before taking a bite of the sandwich on his plate.
She smiled tightly and nodded. “Yeah. He’s having a hard time being away.”
“I’m surprised he made it this long. You going to visit your mom?”
Harlow frowned and stared down at her plate. Something was definitely wrong. Did she have mom issues like I did? And he had said “your mom.” Did they have different mothers? “He’s worried that I could upset her without him there. He thinks it’s best for me to wait until he’s back.”
Mase let out an aggravated grunt. He didn’t seem pleased with her answer. He swung his gaze over to me. “You good? The ice helping?”
I nodded.
“Let’s not talk about Dad right now. It’s rude to talk about family stuff when we have a guest with us,” Harlow said, with a smile that didn’t meet her eyes. Something Mase had said had bothered her.
“Your dad has a cool name,” I said, hoping to ease some of the tension that had suddenly entered the room. “The only Kiro I’ve heard of is Kiro Manning. I’ve never heard of anyone else with that name.”
Harlow and Mase looked at each other, and then a real smile broke out across Harlow’s face, and her eyes danced with laughter. “I’ve never heard of anyone else with the name Kiro, either. Except, of course, Kiro Manning.”
I had started to agree politely when her words slowly sank in. No . . . wait. No . . .
“I guess I didn’t tell you my whole name when I introduced myself,” Mase said with a smile.
OK, wait. I wracked my brain. There had been some news or something around the time I left home about Kiro Manning’s wife and daughter. I didn’t always have access to TV back then.
“You don’t watch much TV, do you?” Mase said with a teasing grin, as he took a drink of his soda.
I wasn’t about to explain to him why I didn’t watch much TV. I just shook my head. “No, not much, ever.”
Harlow sighed and then laughed softly. “Someone who doesn’t know who I am, and now you’ve ruined it, Mase.”
I could tell she was joking. I just smiled and tried to wrap my head around the fact that I was sitting at a table with Kiro Manning’s children. In what universe did that happen? The awkward feeling skyrocketed, and I wanted nothing more than to get away. I wasn’t just interrupting a family gathering, I was interrupting a legendary rock star’s family gathering. Oh, God, this was so embarrassing.
I looked at both of them sitting there, so nice, with their easygoing smiles. They seemed like any normal, happy family. They didn’t appear to be what you would expect from a rock legend’s kids.
“I need to go. I . . . my hand is starting to bother me, and I left my medicine at home. Thank you so much for brunch, and I promise to work overtime next week. You two enjoy the rest of your meal, and I’ll see myself out,” I said quickly, before either of them could interrupt me. Then I stood and flashed them one more smile before leaving the room as calmly and quickly as I could.
I had just stepped outside when I felt a large hand wrap around my upper arm. “Not so fast. You want to leave, I’ll take you. You’re not walking.”