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“After everyone leaves.”
He nodded.
We’d never let Riley and Rex forget their brother. Rowan wasn’t a secret in our house. He was one of my sons.
That was how I’d counted them since the day they were born.
Watson followed my eyes.
***
Then the doorbell rang.
“I’ll get it, hon,” I said, wiping frosting from my thumb.
Watson glanced toward the yard. “Probably another kid who forgot which gate to use.”
I opened the front door, expecting a teenager with a gift bag and grass on his shoes.
No one was there.
There was only a small brown box on the welcome mat. There wasn’t a shipping label or a stamp, just a message in black marker across the top.
“I’ll get it, hon.”
“Happy Birthday, Brothers.”
My body went cold.
“Who is it?” Watson called from the kitchen.
“No one.”
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