His brother’s house was the last place Caleb wanted to be. He didn’t want to eat in this kitchen or sit in that living room, and he definitely had no desire to go upstairs and sleep in his old bedroom.

He’d had enough déjà vu already.

The kitchen might as well have been frozen in time. A spider plant sat in the middle of the island, serving utensils upside down in a white container next to the stove, a bulletin board above the phone, a fruit bowl under the light switch and the coffeemaker beneath the built-in microwave.

He knew the sugar would be on the third shelf of the pantry, the milk in the door of the stainless-steel refrigerator and the coffee beans on the second shelf in the pantry next to the dining room. He’d kill for a cup of coffee, but there was no way he was making himself at home.

Mandy, on the other hand, seemed to feel completely at home. She’d perched herself on one of the high, black-cushioned chairs at the center island, one booted foot propped on the cross piece, one swinging in a small arc as she dialed her phone.

“Are you here often?” He couldn’t help asking. He didn’t remember anyone ever looking relaxed in this house.

She raised her phone to her ear and gave a small, wry smile. “Only when your father was away. Reed and I used to drink cheap wine and play poker.”

“Just the two of you?” Caleb arched a brow. He didn’t yet have a handle on the relationship between his brother and Mandy.

She raked her loose hair back from her forehead. “I told you I wasn’t sleeping with him.” She left a deliberate pause. “When I stayed over, I slept in your bed. Oh, hey, Seth,” she said into the phone.

Absurdly rattled by her taunt, Caleb withdrew into the living room to clear his head. This trip was not going even remotely as he’d planned.

It was two hours to the Lyndon airport. He could drive there and fly back to Chicago tonight. Or he could get a hotel room in Lyndon. Or he could stay here and figure out what on earth to do next.