She couldn’t be more than five or six years old. There aren’t any other people here from what I can tell, but somehow this child is suddenly at the house, eating on the patio.

“She’s mine,” a low voice murmurs behind me.

I turn to find Ryder staring at her with a hint of joy in his previously lifeless expression.

“She’s beautiful. But why…”

“Why didn’t I tell Murph?” He moves toward the patio door, watching her as she eats. “I didn’t tell him because he doesn’t give a shit about me. Why would he give a shit about her?”

“You don’t know that,” I answer, finding myself defending a man I still know so little about. He could be right for all I know.

From what I know about Murph so far is that he cares deeply and expresses it poorly.

“She’s five,” Ryder says, just before opening the door for me to step outside with my own lunch.

“Which is why you never came back,” I answer for him, remembering Murph’s rage over Ryder’s disappearance.

“Pretty much.” He sets down his plate and tousles the young girl’s hair. “Is your sandwich good, Lucy?”

She nods and picks up a paper she’s scrawled all over. Her father examines it affectionately, and I watch as she waits for his response. “It’s beautiful,” he says finally.

Then, the girl looks at me. I smile at her, but I have no idea what to say. Does this little thing even understand the misery in the household? What do you say to a child when someone is dying?

“You have beautiful hair.” It’s all I can think to say, and it’s true. It’s blonder than Ryder’s, and it looks so long I bet she’s never had it cut. I also notice that she doesn’t answer, except with a warm, blushing smile.

“She’s a little shy,” Ryder whispers toward me when Lucy gives her attention back to the pens and paper in front of her.

My mouth forms an O as I watch the girl. The conversation stays quiet as we finish our food, and then I excuse myself, eager to get back to Murph alone in the bedroom. I grab him a sandwich and take it to him, hoping he’ll eat something. That angry image of him from last night refuses to leave my mind, but this new information on Ryder’s daughter has me pitying Murph a little more. He must constantly feel so alienated from those he loves most. His best friend died of an addiction he didn’t know existed. His foster mom replaced him almost immediately. Now, his own brother has a secret child he has no idea about.

As I enter Hazel’s room, I stand in the doorway and watch him before stepping in. He’s asleep on the bed next to her. He dwarfs her tiny frame with his large size, lying on top of the covers with his heavy black boots. He hardly looks so intimidating now. In fact, I want to walk over and touch his cheeks, noticing how his warm skin glows in the sunlight.