My heart stutters, then careens into a gallop. Without a word, I launch myself at him.

He catches me, one strong hand burying itself in my hair and the other wrapping around my waist. I cling to him, mashing myself chest to chest, thigh to thigh, as if I can keep him safe with this simple embrace.

“Are you okay?” I whisper against his left pec.

“I’m fine.” His voice is low, gruff.

Tears sting my eyes. “I was scared.”

“I know.” His breath wafts over my ear. “It’s going to be okay. I promise. Let’s go upstairs and I’ll explain everything.”

“No, you won’t,” Callum says tersely, overhearing Reed’s promise. “No talking to anyone unless you want to make Ella a witness.”

A witness? Oh God. The police are talking to witnesses and Reed is trying to tell me everything is okay?

Another set of footsteps echoes behind us. Reed releases me, and his eyes widen at the tall, blond man who enters the foyer.

“Uncle Steve?” he blurts out.

“Reed.” Steve nods in greeting.

Callum spins toward my father. “Steve, Christ, I forgot you showed up. I was thinking I’d dreamt the damn thing.” His gaze swings between Steve and me. “Did you two meet?”

I nod vigorously and try to convey with wide eyes that I don’t want the whole daddy/daughter thing coming out. Callum’s brow furrows, but his attention is dragged away when Steve says, “We were just getting acquainted when you arrived. And no, you didn’t dream it. I survived.”

The two men eye each other for a moment. Then they both step forward, meet halfway, and exchange a manly hug that includes several good-natured back slaps.

“Damn, it’s good to be home,” Steve tells his old friend.

“How are you even here?” Callum shoots back, looking dismayed. “Where the hell have you been the last nine months?” In a voice that’s half angry, half awed, he adds, “I spent five million dollars on a search and rescue effort.”

“It’s a long story,” Steve admits. “Why don’t we go sit down somewhere and I’ll fill you in—”

A pounding of feet on the stairs interrupts him. The three youngest Royal brothers appear on the second-floor landing, their blue-eyed gazes instantly homing in on Reed.

“Told you he’d be back!” Easton crows as he takes the steps two at a time. He has a serious case of bedhead and he’s wearing nothing but boxers, but that doesn’t stop him from dragging Reed in for a quick hug. “You okay, bro?”

“Fine,” Reed grunts.

Sawyer and Sebastian round out the group, focusing on their father. “What happened at the police station?” Sawyer demands.

“What’s going to happen now?” Seb chimes in.

Callum sighs. “I got a friend out of bed—a judge I know—and he came down this morning to set bail for Reed. I need to deliver Reed’s passport to the clerk of court tomorrow morning. In the meantime, we wait. You might have to stay here a while longer, Steve,” he informs my father. “Your place is currently being held as a crime scene.”

“Why? Did someone finally off my beloved wife?” Steve asks in a dry voice.

I jerk in surprise. Steve’s wife, Dinah, is a terrible, venomous woman, but I can’t believe he’s joking about someone killing her.

Callum can’t believe it either, because he responds in a sharp voice. “Hardly something to joke about, Steve. But no, it’s Brooke who died. And Reed here is being falsely accused of having a hand in that death.”

Reed’s fingers tighten through mine.

“Brooke?” Steve’s eyebrows soar up to his hairline. “How did that happen?”

“Head injury,” Reed says coolly. “And no, I didn’t do it.”

Callum glares at his son.

“What?” Reed growls. “Those are facts and I’m not afraid of the facts. I went there last night after a phone call from Brooke. You were all gone and I felt okay, so I went. We argued. I left. When I left, she was unhappy but alive. That’s the story.”

What about your stitches? I want to scream. What about the blood I saw on your waist when I came home from dinner?

The words stick in my throat, making me cough violently. Everyone stares at me for a moment, before Easton finally speaks.

“Okay, if that’s the story, I’m on board.”

Reed’s expression darkens. “It’s not a story—it’s the truth.”

Easton nods. “Like I said, totally on board, bro.” His gaze travels to the newcomer in our midst. “I’d way rather hear Uncle Steve’s story, anyway. Coming back from the dead? That’s badass.”

“Yeah, he wouldn’t tell us a thing last night,” Sebastian grumbles, glancing at his dad. “He wanted to wait for you.”

Callum lets out another sigh. “Why don’t we go into the kitchen? I could use a cup of coffee. The coffee at the police station gave me heartburn.”

We all follow the head of the Royal household into the massive, modern kitchen that I fell in love with the moment I moved in. As Callum walks over to the coffeemaker, the rest of us gather at the table. We all sit down as if this is just any other normal Sunday, not the Sunday after Reed was arrested for murder and a dead man walked out of the ocean to our front door.

It’s so surreal. I can’t make sense of this. Any of it.

In the chair beside mine, Reed rests a hand on my thigh, although I’m not sure if it’s to comfort me or himself. Or maybe he’s comforting us both.

After he’s settled in his seat, Easton gets right down to business. “So are you finally gonna tell us why aren’t you dead?” he asks my father.

Steve smiles faintly. “I still can’t tell if you’re happy or sad about that fact.”

Neither, I almost blurt out. I manage to tamp down the response at the last second, but it’s the truth. Steve’s reappearance is more confusing than anything. And maybe a bit terrifying.

“Happy,” the twins reply in unison.

“Obvs,” Easton agrees.

“How are you alive?” Reed, this time. His voice is sharp, and his hand moves soothingly over my thigh, as if he knows how on edge I am.

Steve leans back in his chair. “I don’t know what Dinah’s told you, if anything, about our little trip.”