Chapter 11

Three words, nothing more. The shell Magpie had been holding in place cracked, just a fraction.

She didn't reply. She let her face rest against his shoulder for one breath. It smelled like home.

Kieran let go quickly, as if that brief warmth had been an illusion. He bent and winked at Wren, voice bright.

"Wren. Do you still remember your uncle?"

Wren was shy at first. She pressed into Magpie a little, but her big eyes were fixed on him with open curiosity.

Kieran smiled and took the biggest suitcase from Magpie with easy efficiency. With his free hand, he lifted Wren right off her hip and settled her up on his shoulder.

"Little princess. Hold on. Carriage to the palace departing."

Wren shrieked and wrapped her arms around his neck, giggling.

Watching her daughter bond instantly with her uncle, Magpie felt her tense-strung nerves loosen a notch.

They loaded into Kieran's customized SUV. Wren was captivated by the new city and pressed her face against the window.

The SUV pulled into a quiet, gated neighborhood, eventually stopping in front of an elegant three-story colonial.

The gate opened. Magpie saw her parents immediately, waiting at the door.

Before the car had even come to a full stop, her mother, Iris, was coming down the path with red eyes. She grabbed Magpie's hands and the tears came before words. "You're home. That's all that matters. You're home."

Her father, Harold, stood a step behind, eyes just as red. He clapped his daughter's arm roughly. His voice was rough. "You're thinner."

Kieran lifted Wren out of the car. She stumbled forward on tiny legs and flung herself at her grandmother.

Iris crouched and gathered her granddaughter in, calling her every soft name she knew, crying harder.

Kieran set the bags down, came to attention, and saluted. Ridiculously. Deadpan.

"Reporting, General. Mission accomplished. Both princesses delivered safely. Awaiting orders."

Harold's expression, which had gone heavy, cracked despite himself. "You have no sense of dignity."

Iris laughed through her tears and smacked her son's arm. "So mouthy."

The weight in the air lifted.

Magpie looked at her parents and her brother, and her throat burned, but this time it wasn't grief. It was a warm kind of ache.

She pulled in a breath and let the corner of her mouth lift. Faintly, but genuinely.

"Dad. Mom. We're home."

Iris wiped her face. "Inside, all of you. It's cold. Dinner's ready. All your favorites."

Kieran hoisted Wren back up and, with his other arm, naturally slid it around Magpie's shoulders, steering her toward the door.

"Yes, inside, come on. Mom's signature dishes. They can't go cold. Mags, honest to God, she started prepping yesterday. Thanksgiving-level operation over here…"

He half-pushed, half-ushered her in. Behind them, the garden gate swung shut, sealing the Manhattan winter and the Sterling mess into another world entirely.

Harold and Iris kept piling food on Magpie's and Wren's plates, chattering about small things, carefully staying clear of anything that might upset the mood.

After dinner, Iris took Wren upstairs for a bath. Harold disappeared into the study for a work call.

The living room went quiet, down to just Magpie and Kieran.

Kieran tossed her a can of warmed cocoa and popped a beer for himself. He dropped onto the sofa beside her, long legs slung over the coffee table. The lazy version was back.

"So. How are you settling in?"

Magpie held the warm can between her hands and nodded. "Fine."

"Any plans?" He took a pull of his beer, keeping it casual.

"Rest first. Spend time with Wren." She paused, then added, "After that… maybe I'll pick composing back up."

Kieran's brow went up. He whistled. "Now that's the Ashford I know. If it weren't for…"

He cut himself off mid-sentence and smacked his own mouth, annoyed.

"Ugh. Not touching that. Whatever you want to do, go do it. If you need money, I've got money. If you need people, I've got people. It's handled."

Watching him settle so easily into his "I'll hold up the sky for you" posture, the last of her uncertainty thinned out.

She made a soft sound of agreement and sipped her drink.

This was where she belonged.

Iris came down from upstairs, eyes a little pink, and gestured for Magpie to follow her.

"Mags, come help me sort through some things in the attic. Some of your old stuff."

Magpie followed her up.

Iris opened a box. Inside were Magpie's school-era music awards, a stack of handwritten scores, and a few photos from school orchestra performances.

The girl in the photos had bright eyes and a confident smile. No scars from the world yet. She was holding a violin like anything was possible.

Iris's voice wavered. "Look how much time has gone by. Look how bright you were."

"If I hadn't gotten so sick that year. If Eleanor hadn't been so generous and donated the liver…"

"And then you felt you owed her. And you did love Damon, there was no denying that, back then. You wanted to stay."

Iris's tears came again. "Your dad and I both said it wasn't right. Kieran was the loudest about it. He kept saying the Sterling boy had shifty eyes, that he wasn't steady, he wasn't the kind of man you build a life with. We couldn't talk you out of it."