It’s not a question, it’s a statement, and it makes my chest squeeze. “Grandma loves you,” I say fiercely, looking at him over my shoulder.

Cooper at twelve has my height and pale complexion, along with a smattering of freckles across his nose. He and Bo could probably have handled being tall and thin if they’d escaped the Callen red hair. But both of them inherited it, and being a redhead is about the worst thing they can think of.

Coop’s shoulders hunch further. “Doesn’t sound like she loves us. She makes us sound like we’re the spawn of Satan.”

“Her daddy was a preacher, Sugar. Grandma was raised in the church, going to church, and she’s just worried about us.”

“ ’Cause we don’t go to church?”

“That, and Daddy’s and my separation, as well as Uncle Cody’s death.”

“And going to church will change all that?”

“No. But it’d make her feel better.” I drop a kiss on the top of his head. Another few months and he’ll be taller than me. And he’s my baby. “Go get your brothers. Breakfast is ready.”

Brick calls me on his cell about an hour later. “That was the most boring sermon ever, Shey. You owe me.”

I grin at the misery in his deep voice. He might be the oldest and I might be the youngest, but we’ve always been tight. “You don’t have to pretend to like church just because she’s here,” I answer, taking a step outside the house to stretch and stand on the screened porch with its view of the oak-lined drive. More oak trees dot the pasture between the house and the six-stall barn. There’s not a lot else to see but trees, cows, and land. Mama and Pop lived here for fifty-some years, and Pop’s parents before that.

“It makes her happy,” he says.

“That’s why you’ll go to heaven and I won’t.” I laugh and ruffle my hair. I’ve always gotten along well with all my brothers, but I enjoy teasing Brick most, probably because he takes his job as the oldest so damn seriously. “You all on your way home now?”

“No. We’re going out for breakfast. Mama’s still worked up, and Charlotte thought a good hot meal would put her in a better mood, especially since she’s driving back to Jefferson this afternoon. Don’t want her on the road when she’s in a mood.”

“No, we certainly don’t. So where are you going, and are we invited?”

“Um, Shey, you’re the reason Mama’s in a bad mood. You’re probably better off staying at the house.”

“Gotcha.” My lips twist in a rueful smile. My mother and I have a funny relationship. Given that I’m the only daughter and the baby of the family, you’d think we would have been close. Only it didn’t work out that way. Mama prefers boys.