“No, I’m fine. They ache a little but right now I don’t want anyone touching them. I’ll just sit like this for the rest of the evening and drink lots of water. The potassium in the OJ will help.”

He leaned over and kissed her forehead just as the buzzer sounded.

“That’ll be our luggage. Be right back.”

She adjusted her position so that some of the tension was relieved in her back. The truth was she was tired of sitting after being on the airplane for so many hours, but neither did she want to be on her feet with swollen and aching ankles.

Deciding to dispense with sitting at all, she turned on her side, stuck a cushion between her legs and let out a sigh at the bliss of being off her behind and her feet.

She stared across the room out the panels of glass that led onto the balcony and watched as a few snowflakes spiraled downward. The weather didn’t seem to be able to make up its mind whether it wanted to rain, sleet or snow; but, at least for now, a few fat flakes were falling.

The flames from the gas fireplace gave the living room a warm, homey feel and as she adjusted her gaze to the fireplace, lethargy stole over her.

She reached for the throw draped on the back of the couch and pulled it over her body, sighing that she finally felt comfortable after traveling for so long.

Her eyelids were drooping and she didn’t fight the urge to sleep. Ryan would wake her in time for dinner.

* * *

When Ryan returned to the living room, he found Kelly fast asleep on the couch, her hand tucked under her cheek. He was struck by how young and innocent she looked. Not at all like someone who played brother against brother.

He supposed it was unfair to think such thoughts when they’d both made an effort to get beyond the past, but the dark thoughts always crept in.

What fault did he have that would cause Kelly to seek comfort with his brother? And why had she been vengeful enough to want to ruin his relationship with his only sibling when Jarrod had told her that he was going to confess to Ryan that they’d had sex?

Ryan felt more like a father to Jarrod than a brother. Eight years separated them in age and their father had died when Ryan was barely a teenager. He’d stepped in, assuming the paternal role with Jarrod, who was still a boy.

He’d attended all his baseball games, taken him to sporting events. Taken him to movies. He’d been there for his graduation from high school. Had helped him move when he went off to college and supported his decision to return home and pursue a career in finance.