On the Steamy Side - Louisa Edwards [108]
Forcing down the bitter voice whispering that nothing had changed, Devon looked at his father, whose presence at Market was proof that there’d been at least a tiny shift in the murky waters of his family.
“So. How’s Connor? He’s back stateside, I hear.”
A familiar gleam of pride entered Phil’s eyes. “Your brother’s doing good, real good. He got out of the service about a year ago. Now he’s a cop.”
Devon had to laugh, even as fear for his brother clutched at his guts. Devon knew about the stint in Afghanistan—he’d actually bought body armor for Con’s whole unit, because the thought of his happy-go-lucky kid brother out there with nothing between him and death was unacceptable. The anonymous donation helped Devon sleep at night.
He and Connor had emailed occasionally once he’d finished his tour. It had been a while, though, and last Devon heard, Connor was just trying to settle back into civilian life. Figured that rather than taking a well-deserved break from risking his all for God and country, he’d go for one of the highest-risk jobs he could find.
First the army, then the Trenton PD? Little danger junkie. “One of the boys in blue, huh? Who would’ve guessed.”
Phil went stony. “Me, for one. I always knew he’d end up doing something important. He won’t ever be famous, but we’re damn proud of him.”
Here we go.
“I’m proud of him, too,” Devon said, gritting his teeth against the frustration simmering in his throat. “I get it. What I don’t get is how being proud of him means there’s nothing left over for anyone else. Like there’s a finite amount of pride in our family, and Connor gets all of it.”
“You saying you think what you’re doing here is more important than your brother, out there protecting us all . . .”
“No, Dad, that’s not what I’m saying at all,” Devon interrupted before Phil burst that blood vessel in his forehead.
“My goodness,” Lilah said loudly, catching their attention—and the attention of everyone in a ten-foot radius. “What a shame the whole family couldn’t be here! But I’m sure Tucker will get to meet his grandma and uncle sometime soon. In the meantime, Tuck, do you wanna go in the kitchen with me? Say good night to the chefs?”
She held out her hand and Tucker took it gratefully. Devon sent her a look that was every bit as grateful. This. This ugliness, this resentment was exactly why he never told Phil about Tucker. Hell, it was why he’d never tried to be a dad himself. Devon hated who he became when he was around his family.
What kind of person begrudged his war hero brother the honest admiration he deserved? It wasn’t like Devon had any illusions about himself. He’d never make the choice to join the armed forces; he’d never want to face what Connor had faced overseas.
The hell of it was, Devon admired his little brother every bit as much as their father did. So why did it sting so badly to be compared to him, and come up short?
Lilah beamed a big, fake smile and pulled Tucker to her side, but Phil wasn’t about to let them out of his sight.
Eyes sharp, he said, “My son’s ‘friend,’ eh? I take that to mean you’re not the mother.”
“No, but . . .”
“So where is she?”
“Oh! She’s . . . well.” Lilah bit her lip.
Devon became aware of heads turning in their direction, whispers circulating around the still-crowded room. “Can we move this out of the public dining room to someplace more private?”
Christ, this was going to be all over the place before he even managed to get his father back on the train to Trenton.
“That’s a joke—you worrying about what people think. You never cared when it was your mother and me who couldn’t hold our heads up on a Sunday morning when anyone at the church with the money for a Post could read about what you got up to on Saturday night.” Phil shook his head.
Devon’s jaw was clenched hard enough to make his neck hurt. “Well, if you don’t want to make Page Six yourself, come down to the restaurant office with me and we can finish having this out.”
Without another word, he turned and strode for the kitchen door.