A Perfect Homecoming. Lisa Dyson

she began in little more than a whisper. It was supposed to be her time now that the boys were in school all day. She could finish her degree and then get her master’s in physical therapy. She’d finally have something to be proud of, an accomplishment of her own.

      “This isn’t your fault, Paula,” Scott pointed out. “You accepted this pregnancy a long time ago, unless you changed your mind?”

      “Oh, no!” she cried. “Of course not! I already love this baby more than I ever expected to.” She swallowed.

      “Stop thinking you’re to blame.” Scott’s tone was firm. “For both you and the baby.”

      Easier said than done.

      She deliberately changed the subject because he’d never convince her that she wasn’t responsible and then they’d only get into an argument. So they discussed Ryan’s injury until voices carried from the front door.

      Ashleigh and Ryan had returned.

      “They’re back from the orthopedist,” Paula told Scott. “Do you want to say ‘hi’ to the boys?”

      “Sure.” He put his index finger up and Paula did the same, getting closer to the screen until it appeared as if the tips of their fingers touched. “I love you, P.” This time his voice broke slightly.

      “I love you, too, Scotty.” Tears spilled down her cheeks. “Let me call the boys.”

      “I’ll be home soon.”

      She tried her best to smile and then turned her head in the direction of her bedroom door to call the boys.

      Was that Kyle’s voice, too?

      What she wouldn’t have given to be a fly on that hospital wall when he and her sister saw each other again after two years.

      * * *

      ASHLEIGH WAS SURE there must be steam coming out of her ears as she parked Paula’s minivan in the driveway. Ryan had chosen to ride in Kyle’s truck—not that she could fault the boy—and now Kyle walked right into her sister’s home as if he lived there.

      Ashleigh couldn’t imagine feeling less connected to any of them.

      She took a minute to gather herself, refusing to give in to hurt feelings. They’d all successfully gone on with their lives without her.

      So what?

      So had she. In fact, she needed to check in with a few clients. She walked to her car and retrieved her suitcase from her trunk. She wheeled it up the walkway, along with her briefcase and medical bag. Her purse hung over her shoulder and she made it to the front door before it slipped down her arm.

      Debating whether to knock or walk in, she straightened her back and entered her sister’s home.

      Voices came from Paula’s bedroom, but Ashleigh chose to avoid Kyle. Instead, she parked her things off to the side of the front door and went into the kitchen to brew a cup of tea.

      While waiting for the water to boil, she considered Paula’s house. Aunt Viv had mentioned that the older couple who’d owned the house for longer than Ashleigh had been alive had passed away within weeks of each other. Rather than putting the house up for sale in the depressed real estate market, their children had chosen to update and rent out the home. Ashleigh hadn’t been upstairs yet, but more than likely, the Cape Cod contained a full bath and two bedrooms on the second floor, one for each of the boys. Paula’s bedroom appeared to be the only bedroom on this floor. Where did that leave Ashleigh?

      She sighed. Looked like she’d have to make do with the living room sofa for who knew how long. The one decent hotel was fifteen minutes out of town and that would make school mornings more hectic than necessary. Plus, if Ashleigh didn’t sleep in the house, then Paula would have to get up with the boys if they needed something during the night.

      The teakettle whistled. Since there were several tea flavors to choose from in Paula’s cabinet, Ashleigh decided to ask if she’d like a cup. Not like in the past when they could practically read each other’s minds. Or at least not complain if the wrong kind of tea was brewed for them.

      Ashleigh started back down the hall as Kyle exited Paula’s bedroom.

      “I’m giving them some time alone,” he told Ashleigh, implying she shouldn’t interrupt Paula and her boys.

      “Asking Paula if she wants tea will only take a second.”

      “She never passes up a cup of tea,” Kyle said. “Any flavor that’s decaf.”

      Ashleigh hated when he answered a question before she could ask it. Or maybe she hated the fact that he knew her sister better than she did.

      She turned on her heel, annoyed when he followed her to the kitchen.

      He pulled out a cup of his own from the cupboard when she didn’t offer him one and brewed himself a single cup of coffee.

      “You’re pretty comfortable here,” she said before she could stop herself.

      “I come over a few times a week,” he said. “Dinner, helping with Mark’s homework, yard work. You know.”

      She nodded, even though she didn’t know. The last few months of their marriage, he’d put in so many hours at the hospital that she’d barely seen him. Eating one meal a week together, maybe two if she was lucky, had been the extent of their interaction. Much less time than he’d been giving her sister and nephews.

      There were countless comebacks on the tip of her tongue, but she held them in, unwilling to begin a fruitless argument.

      Kyle took lemon juice from the fridge and held it out. “For Paula’s tea.”

      Ashleigh’s fingers shook as she took the bottle and added a splash to the tea. How could she have forgotten how her sister preferred her tea? Had two years turned them into strangers?

      Kyle sipped his coffee, set the cup on the counter and pulled out a spoon, efficiently swirling the liquids in Paula’s cup together. When he picked up the cup to take it to her sister, Ashleigh realized she’d been mesmerized, remembering how those fingers used to manipulate her until she lost complete control of both body and soul.

      Kyle left with Paula’s tea. Ashleigh didn’t argue, needing a minute to slow her breathing. She sat at the kitchen table and dunked her tea bag up and down, staring at it until her eyes blurred.

      “Hi, Aunt Ashleigh!” Mark’s sudden appearance in the kitchen doorway startled her.

      “Mark! You’ve grown so much!” Ashleigh stood to hug the grinning nine-year-old who came almost to her collarbone even in her three-inch wedge heels. She was about to ask how school was going, but he ran off when Ryan called him.

      Mark was no sooner gone than Kyle appeared in the kitchen doorway. “I’ll help the boys move Ryan into Mark’s room before I go.”

      “I don’t want to kick him out of his room.” She stared at the swirls in her tea.

      “He’s fine with it,” Kyle said. “Mark has bunk beds.”

      Of course he’d already finalized details. He practically lived here.

      “Scott doesn’t mind you spending so much time with his family?” The snotty question flew from her mouth before she could stop it.

      Two years ago she’d have done anything to get him to show a little emotion. She’d gone so far as to divorce him, but even that hadn’t produced a reaction. Now he was silent until she turned to look at him and realized with alarm that she’d made him angry. Narrowed eyes and pursed lips were his tell.

      Yep, definitely angry.

      She wasn’t sure if she’d been trying for that reaction or not. Maybe she’d wanted some kind of response from him. Anger, joy, resentment, pleasure. Anything but steely control.

      Whatever his emotion, Kyle’s words were