From This Day On. Janice Johnson Kay

you do! What was in the time capsule?”

      “I think it’s Amy’s right to tell you or not. It’s not good, though, I’ll say that much. She’s having a hard time dealing with it.”

      A pause extended. “Will you be seeing her?”

      “Yeah.” Any minute.

      “Tell her I love her. I always have.”

      Jakob felt himself relax infinitesimally. That helped. It definitely helped. “Okay, Dad,” he said. “I’ll do that.”

      He didn’t hear her coming at all. The first he knew, he caught a hint of movement out of the corner of his eye and there she was in the doorway.

      She stared at him defiantly as she walked across the kitchen. Jakob was struck by how stiff she was. Usually she was as light as air, hardly seeming to touch the ground. It occurred to him that he never had been able to count on hearing her approach.

      “He’s gone?”

      The phone lay in front of him on the table. She was looking at him, not the phone.

      “Yeah.”

      “Are you going to tell me what he said?”

      “I told you I would.”

      The relief had metamorphosed into something else. Jakob had no idea what he was feeling now. All he knew was that, for the first time in his life, he was letting himself fully see her as a woman. As such, he was almost sorry she’d showered and changed out of the thin tank top and low-slung pajama bottoms into jeans and a sacky sweatshirt. The jeans did a heck of a job molding hips that weren’t quite boyish, though. And he realized that, though he hadn’t consciously noticed earlier, when he pushed his way into the house, he had definitely been aware of her breasts. They weren’t large, but he’d been able to make out their shape just fine. He imagined them nestled in the palms of his hands and was damn glad he was sitting down, because he was getting aroused.

      Guilt jabbed, but he stomped on it. Not my sister. He couldn’t help wondering if the seismic shift had fully hit her yet, and if so what the realization meant to her.

      Oh, hell, what was he thinking? She was dealing with her mother’s lies, with his father’s lies, with the knowledge that she was very likely the product of rape, and he was rejoicing because he didn’t have to feel guilty anymore for wanting her.

      What she needed right now was a friend. A brother. The understanding sobered him. That might be all she’d ever want from him. If it was, he would give her what she needed. There were too many years when he’d hurt her as much or more than Michelle and his dad had. He owed her.

      “Sit.”

      She sat, but indignantly. “I’m not a dog.”

      His grin came despite his plunge in mood. “No, you’re not.”

      Her spine didn’t touch the back of the chair. Her neck stretched so long it had to hurt, and that pointy chin thrust out. “So?”

      “He found out you weren’t his when you fell off the bars at school. I’d kind of forgotten about that.”

      She frowned. “I knocked myself out.”

      “And bled. A lot, according to Dad. I don’t know if they were thinking transfusion or what, but they checked your blood type.”