Chapter One

Today was always going to be a life changer, Felicity knew that. Watching her firstborn walk across the graduation stage, smiling ear to ear, was one of those slow-motion moments, a blur of happy times, milestones, and pride. Her daughter, Honor, was done. Eighteen. A high-school graduate, ready to spend the night celebrating with her friends.

Which was exactly as it should be.

This, now, leading her two kids into the emergency room, was not.

“How serious was the accident?” Honor asked, holding tightly to her hand.

“Honor,” Nick, her sixteen-year-old, snapped. “You heard as much as she did.”

It had been one of those times she’d wished her phone wasn’t synced to her car. How could she have known the hospital was calling? How could she have known Matt, her ex—the kids’ father—had been in an accident? A serious accident. They’d all just assumed Matt had ditched, as was the trend.

“Hold my hand, Nickie,” Honor mumbled thickly, reaching for her little brother’s hand.

Nick didn’t say a word, but Honor didn’t have to ask again.

The way her kids relied on each other was one good thing to come out of her messy divorce. They weren’t just siblings anymore. They were best friends. Best friends who had no idea what was happening. It was possible Matt’s replacement family was here—in the waiting room—families did that when things like this happened.

Coming face-to-face with his fiancée, Amber; her megawatt smile; and her killer legs wasn’t going to make this any easier. Neither was meeting Matt’s son, Jack—the baby Nick blamed for destroying their happy family. As much as she’d like to think Nick could keep it together, there were no guarantees. When it came to his father, Nick was equal parts hostility and resentment. The potential for reality-television drama in the hospital waiting room was a real concern.

But if the last two years had taught her anything, it was that a smile was normally the best accessory. Even when the last thing she felt like doing was smiling. Like now.

“Is that Dr. Murphy?” Nick asked.

Felicity glanced at the man at the nurses’ station. At well over six feet, Graham Murphy stood out. Seeing his tall, broad back encased in green hospital scrubs was a relief. While the two of them hadn’t been close the last few years, Graham and Matt had been best friends through med school and partners when Matt still had his OB/GYN practice here in Pecan Valley. “Graham?”

“Yes?” Graham Murphy turned to face them, instant recognition easing his features—briefly. His brown gaze searched hers. “Felicity.” That was all. Her name, without a hint of emotion.

But he was having a hard time making eye contact with the kids, and that said so much. If Matt was okay, he’d say so. Wouldn’t he? He’d offer some sort of reassurance. A smile. Something. The shock of the phone call was quickly turning into something substantial—and cold.

“I got a phone call? About Matt.” Maybe he didn’t know anything. Maybe—

“I’ll take you to him.” He cleared his throat, drew in a deep breath, and spoke. “He’s going to surgery. His jaw is broken, so talking isn’t comfortable. He’s in bad shape, a lot of pain, but he held on to see you. Keep it positive—good thoughts, that sort of thing, okay?”

Honor was nodding, tears streaming down her face. Felicity wiped them away, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

Nick. Poor Nick. She hugged him close, his tall frame rigid and unyielding in her arms. Since the divorce, Nick’s anger had grown every time Matt missed a game, concert, birthday, or holiday. While she understood, she worried Nick’s fury would consume whatever affection he still felt for his father.

Graham looked at her, then nodded, leading them past the nurses’ station and into the emergency room. He stopped beside the last door off the hall.

“What’s best for him? One at a time? All together?” Honor asked.

“Together.” The word was all Nick could manage.

Graham squeezed Nick’s shoulder and went inside. “They’re here, Matt.”

Felicity went first, doing her best not to react to her ex-husband’s appearance. But it was hard. His face was swollen and misshapen, a white gauze ice pack taped to his jaw. He was covered with several blankets, one looked like an inflated packing sheet, and each breath he took was labored and watery. He looked wrecked, in every sense of the word.

Honor immediately headed to her father, but Nick hung back.

“No crying,” Matt said, the words slurred. He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “So beautiful. S-sorry…missed it. Graduated. I’m so proud. And I love you, baby girl.”

“Don’t talk, Dad.” Honor kissed his cheek. “Mom recorded it all. You can be bored with it later—when you’re better.”

Matt nodded, the movement stiff. “Good.” He was hurting; she could hear it, see it. “Nick?” The word a plea.

Nick crossed the room, hands shoved in pockets, jaw muscle working. “I’m here, Dad.”

Matt reached up, his hand shaking so bad that Nick had no choice but to cradle it in both of his.

Felicity saw her boy’s chin quiver, saw him wrinkle up his nose, the way his breathing hitched. He’d held on to his resentment for so long, he wasn’t about to lose control now. But seeing him struggle hurt—so much.

“I love you, son.” Matt spoke clearly, enunciating carefully. “I love you both so much.”

“We love you, too, Dad,” Honor said, kissing him again. “You just concentrate on healing thoughts. Good stuff. Fast cars and ice cream and puppies and—”

A nurse came in, effectively shooing the kids away while pulling the rails up on his bed. “It’s time, Dr. Buchanan.”

“One second,” Matt said. “Felicity.”

Felicity jumped. “Yes?”

Matt waited until they were alone before speaking. His gaze pinned hers, and his voice wavered. “Amber’s dead. Jack.” His face crumpled. “And Jack…”

Her heart stopped. “Matt, I—”

“He’s alone, Felicity.” His blue eyes bore into hers. “Please…” He pressed his head back into his pillows, closing his eyes. “Take him.” It was a gruff whisper. “Love him.”

She stepped closer, hating the crush of air from her lungs. “He needs you, Matt.” She leaned over him. “You’re his father.”

His gaze burned. “I’m a doctor; I know what’s happening. This is it.” He spoke calmly, even as his eyes glistened. “I’m asking you to care for my son.”

“Matt…” Felicity stared at him through horrible, painful tears. “Fight. You hear me?”

“Please, Filly.” He grabbed her arm. “Please.”

She squeezed his hand. “I promise I will. You promise you’ll fight.”

He nodded once, relaxing against the mattress.

“We’re going now, Dr. Buchanan.” The nurse brushed past her, kicking off the brake on the hospital bed.

Felicity trailed behind, numb.

“He will be okay,” Honor said, taking her hand. “He’s so fit and healthy. He’s going to be fine.”

Felicity squeezed her hand, unable to shake the dread seeping into her bones. She wanted to believe that was true. But the look on Matt’s face… “How long will the surgery take?” she asked Graham.

“It depends. A while.” He glanced at his wristwatch. “I can call you if you want to go home?”

Honor shook her head. “We’re staying, right, Mom?”

She nodded. “Nick?”

Nick was still staring at the doors they’d wheeled Matt through. “We can stay.”

“Want to see Jack?” Graham asked.

“Jack?” Felicity frowned. “He’s here? Matt said they were leaving him home with a babysitter.” This wasn’t a place for a baby. Especially now. Her heart ached for the little boy. For Amber. And for Matt.

Graham stared at her. “Jack…he was in the car, too.”

Felicity stared at Graham, sinking further into despair. “He was?”

“Oh my God.” Honor covered her mouth, bursting into tears then. “Is Amber with him? Poor little guy’s got to be freaking out.”

Graham looked at her but didn’t say a word.

“Is he hurt?” Felicity asked.

“He’s in a coma—sustained some head trauma,” Graham said. “His right femur is broken and there’s a lot of scrapes and bruises. But children are amazingly resilient.”

“Amber can sit with him.” Nick shoved his hands into his pockets, shooting a look at Honor.

“No, she can’t.” Felicity shook her head.

“Yes, she can,” Nick argued. “He’s her kid. Her problem. Not yours.”

“Nick, he’s your brother,” Honor argued.

“No, he’s not,” Nick shot back.

“Nick.” Felicity faced her son. “He is your half brother.” She touched Nick’s cheek. “And he needs us right now. Amber died in the crash.” She pulled Honor close, trying to hug them both—but Nick stayed stiff. “That little boy has no one in the world except your dad. And us.”

Nick stared up at the ceiling, shaking his head.

“I could use some coffee,” Graham said. “Anyone else?”

“Yes, please, Graham. Thank you.” Felicity looked at the man who’d once been one of her closest friends. “And thank you for being here.”

“Jack’s around the corner.” Graham nodded. “Nick, walk with me?”

“Come on, Mom.” Honor held her hand out. On her daughter’s face she saw everything that was churning inside of her. Fear, determination, sadness, and the need to do something so the horror of the night wouldn’t bring her to her knees.

…

Graham glanced at his daughter, Diana, sitting in the corner of the hospital cafeteria. The thick black eye makeup she wore ran in tracks down her cheeks, her chin rested on her knees, and her earbuds were—as always—plugged in. She was mad at him—as always. This time, he’d been the asshole who was stopping her from having a life. Meaning he wasn’t letting her drive five hours away with a bunch of kids he didn’t know to listen to a band called Broken Souls.

She saw him, saw Nick, and wiped her cheeks. His first instinct was to go to her, to hug her, to comfort her. But she’d already told him what he could do with his instincts. Nothing like hearing your daughter tell you to screw off to warm the cockles of your heart.

“Coffee?” he asked Nick.

Nick shook his head, pacing back and forth while Graham fed coins into the coffee machine.

“Soda?” he asked.

Nick shook his head again, rolling his shoulders.

“Candy bar?”

Nick stopped, leveling him with a hard look. “I’m good.”

He doubted that. And while the boy had every right to be upset, something told Graham it went deeper. Before his wife had died, before Matt had deserted his family, before his and Matt’s practice had disintegrated, he’d known Nick well. Holidays, birthdays, summer cookouts, vacations—the Murphys and Buchanans had been close. And then life had taken a rapid nosedive, his world splintering into pieces so small there was nothing recognizable left. He glanced at Diana again, her too-skinny frame turned away from them as she held on to this latest grief with every fiber of her being.

She believed she was a ‘magnet for bad-luck’. From her grandparents to her pets to her mother, Diana’s life did appear to be one long strand of miserable pearls. And now, tonight.

She didn’t care about Matt Buchanan. In fact, she thought the “cheating sack of shit deserved what he got.” Di was very good at lashing out when she was angry—using words like a machine gun. But his daughter’s temper fit tonight had nothing to do with Matt and everything to do with Graham’s attempt at parenting. According to her, he was intentionally trying to sabotage her relationship with some boy who was also going to the concert. Until she’d thrown that in his face, he hadn’t even known the kid existed. But once he had, he’d dragged her to the hospital with him so she couldn’t sneak out and go anyway. He had enough to worry about without her pulling a disappearing act.

Nick paced in front of him, his sigh of frustration so heavy and sharp, Graham could almost feel it. He didn’t know what to say. Diana had taught him he wasn’t very good at talking. Or listening. But she was a teenage girl. And teenage boys were an altogether different sort of animal. “Ready?” he asked, holding Felicity’s coffee in one hand, his in the other.

Nick looked at him, rolling his shoulders again. Clearly, he was not ready.

“You’re going to be a junior next year?” Graham asked, sipping on his coffee.

Nick nodded.

“Still playing football?”

“Sucking at it, but yeah.”

Graham smiled, assessing the boy. He was tall, over six feet, and spare—more long-distance runner than linebacker. Imagining Nick buried beneath kids bigger and bulkier made Graham wince mentally. “I doubt that,” he said.

Nick shot him a look. “Come to a game next fall. See for yourself.”

“Okay,” Graham agreed.

Nick glanced around the room. “That Diana?”

Graham nodded.

“She okay?”

Graham shrugged. “She’s having a rough night.” Considering what Nick was facing, his daughter’s hysterics and drama over not getting her way were embarrassing. She was upset over a concert. Nick was upset over the possible death of his father.

Nick’s laugh was hard, forced, and angry. “Seems to be going around.”

“She’s going to be at Pecan Valley High School this fall.” She’d been kicked out of St. Thomas Catholic school for smoking in the bathroom. Pot. Because smoking cigarettes wasn’t edgy enough.

“Freshman?”

“Sophomore,” he murmured, staring at his daughter.

“I always thought she was way younger than me,” Nick said. “Maybe I will get a soda.”

Graham fed some change into the soda machine.

“She’s into the whole goth-grunge thing, huh?” Nick asked. “That’s new.”

Graham didn’t argue. It was new for Nick. But Diana had been wearing smudged eyeshadow, poking holes in her lip, and listening to music that sounded like animals being disemboweled for almost two years now. “I’m hoping it’s a phase.”

Nick took the soda. “Thanks.”

Graham smiled. “I should get this coffee to your mom. You don’t have to come—”

“I do,” Nick argued. “She’s acting all strong, but I know she’s not. Dad’s made a career out of pulverizing her heart into mush for a while now.”

Personally, Graham agreed 100 percent. But Matt Buchanan was fighting for his life right now, so it didn’t seem like the right time to say as much. “Here.” He handed the extra cup of coffee to the boy.

Nick peered into the cup. “She likes cream.”

Graham glanced around the stark, institutional cafeteria. The serving line was closed, no sign of cream or sugar packets to be found. “Well, that sucks.”

“She’ll probably drink it,” Nick said.

Graham glanced at Diana again, but she stayed as she was, facing away from him, so he followed Nick from the cafeteria and back to the ER to be informed that Jack had been moved to the ICU.

“He’s stabilized,” Graham explained, pressing the third-floor button on the elevator. “That’s good.”

“Why is he in a coma?” Nick stared at the cup of coffee.

“They were going at least sixty miles an hour. Then they weren’t. The human brain isn’t meant to withstand that sort of impact. Sometimes it shuts down the body so it can heal.” Graham knew it was a piss-poor clinical explanation, but Nick seemed to accept what he said.

“Will he wake up?” Nick’s voice was tight, thick.

“I don’t know.” He wished he had answers. He wished he could erase this whole nightmare for Nick and Honor. He knew what losing a parent could do to a kid—he saw it regularly. The only difference was neither Nick nor Honor could blame Felicity for Matt’s death. Unlike his own daughter.

The elevator doors opened, and he asked for directions to Jack’s room. The closer they got, the more Nick’s posture stiffened like he was preparing for battle.

Honor was sitting in a chair, staring blindly at the muted television set.

“Where’s Mom?” Nick asked.

“She went to the bathroom,” Honor said. “Is that for me?” she asked, reaching for the soda.

“Nope,” Nick argued.

“Share?” she asked.

Nick sighed, offering her the bottle.

Felicity came in, her face scrubbed free of makeup and her long hair pulled back into a ponytail. She looked young. And like she’d been crying.

“Coffee?” she asked, taking the cup from Nick with a smile. “Perfect.” She sipped the black coffee, her face revealing nothing. She walked to the head of the bed and stared down at the toddler. “He looks so much like you, Nick. It’s…amazing.” She smiled at them. “You were never this still, of course. Even when you were sleeping, you’d toss and turn and make noise.” She sipped her coffee again, wrapping one arm around her waist. “It’s cold in here, isn’t it? Do you think he’s cold?”

Honor leaned forward, resting her hand on Jack’s arm. “He feels okay, Mom.”

Graham couldn’t begin to imagine what Felicity was thinking or feeling. He’d lost his wife, Julia, but they’d all known it was coming. There had been no loose ends or messes to clean up. He lost her knowing she loved him, that she knew he loved her. It hurt so much that he’d wanted to die for a while, but from missing her—not from things left unsaid.

This was nothing like that.

Matt had destroyed his family, willfully putting them all through hell. And now he would leave them with a reminder of that.

Felicity stood, all five feet, two inches of her, with no sign of buckling. She’d gone to the bathroom, had her cry, and pulled herself back together. He didn’t remember much about the weeks leading up to Julia’s passing, but he was certain he hadn’t handled it half so well.

“Sorry, no cream.” He nodded at her coffee.

She stared into the cup. “I didn’t even notice.” Her blue eyes met his, held. “Thank you, Graham.”

There were tears in her eyes. And damn but he wanted to hug her then, to tell her they’d survive this, that things would go on, even with a hole in the heart.

“Dad?”

Graham turned to find his daughter peeking in the door. “Hey, Diana, you okay?”

She pushed off the door, her smudged gaze sweeping the room. “Yeah. I guess. Hi, Mrs. Buchanan. Hi, Nick. Honor. Guess tonight is totally sucking for you guys. I-I’m sorry.”

Felicity was hugging his daughter before he realized she’d moved. “Thanks, Di. ‘Sucking’ is exactly the right word.”

Graham saw the look on his daughter’s face, saw the yearning when Felicity drew her close. So why did she keep him at arm’s length? And why wouldn’t she let him call her Di anymore? It didn’t matter. He wanted her to have affection, even if he couldn’t be the one to give it to her.

“Can I…I don’t know…do anything?” Diana glanced at Nick, then Honor.

“We’re watching a marathon jewelry sale on the Spanish channel,” Honor said. “Come on in.”

Diana brushed past him, barely acknowledging his presence now that she’d been welcomed in. “Heard anything?” Diana asked, resting her hands on the footboard of Jack’s hospital bed.

“No, just waiting,” Honor said, scooching over in the hospital chair. “Wanna sit?”

“You graduated tonight, didn’t you? You look great. I like your hair,” Diana said, sitting close to Honor. “Man, that’s got to be great. Getting out of here. Freedom. All that.”

“Yeah.” Honor’s smile was tight, her gaze wandering to her mother and then to Jack. “Sort of forgot.”

“Right. Yeah. Crap. Well… The accident is all over the news, you know? I don’t understand why they don’t put more lights out there on that road.” Diana sniffed, her attention on Jack. “Poor little guy.”

Graham agreed. The strip of road curved sharply along the edge of a hill, with minimal visibility. This wasn’t the first fatal accident on that stretch of road, and it probably wouldn’t be the last.

“Do you know what happened? I mean, what’s the news saying?” Honor asked, shooting him a nervous glance.

“Just that they swerved into oncoming traffic.”

“They? You mean Dad?” Honor asked.

Nick snorted. “Careless. So fricking…stupid.”

“Nick.” Felicity’s tone was soft but firm. “Now isn’t the time.”

“No?” Nick’s voice was hard. “We’re in a hospital, Mom. On Honor’s graduation night. Because he swerved into oncoming traffic?”

“Nick, please.” Felicity’s tone was soft, soothing. “Come on, hon. Everyone is tense.”

Diana was staring at Nick. “I get that you’re upset, and you totally have every right to be pissed, but—”

“You do?” Nick nodded. “You get it?”

“Yeah. I. Do.” Diana slid from the chair, her hands fisting at her sides. “I hate that this happened as much as you do.”

That was exactly the wrong thing to say right now—even if she meant well. “Diana,” Graham put in. “Let’s not make tonight harder than it already is.” Which was also the wrong thing to say—so, apparently, she got it from him. But the words were out, and the damage was done.

“I didn’t do anything.” Diana’s face turned bright red as she held her hands up. “How am I going to make it harder? How about I make it easier and leave?” And she did.

Graham ran a hand over his face, shaking his head. “I’m sorry.” He sucked in a deep breath. “She’s sort of wound up.”

“You don’t need to apologize.” Felicity was frowning at her son. “She meant well.”

Nick sighed, staring up at the ceiling.

Honor stood, frowning at her brother. “Nickie, we’re not the only ones having a bad night, you know?” She sighed, brushing past her brother. “I’ll go talk to her. Just…” She paused. “Find me if there’s news on Dad?”

“You don’t need to go, Honor.” Graham smiled. “She’s my family. You stay here with yours.” He nodded at Felicity and went off in search of his daughter.

…

Honor stared at her phone. Message after message kept popping up. Everyone in Pecan Valley knew her dad had been in an accident—and they all wanted details. Even Mr. Fabulous himself, Owen Nelson, had called. She’d ignored his call, as always, but he’d left a voice message. Not that she’d listened to it—or any of the voice messages for that matter. Somehow, that would make all this…real.

Still, the texts kept coming in. Her fingers hovered over her screen, frozen. What to say?

My dad’s in surgery.

My dad’s baby mama is dead.

My baby brother’s in a coma.

She looked at baby Jack, sound asleep. Not sleeping. The poor thing was in a coma. A coma. The last time she’d seen him—the only time she’d ever seen him in person—had been his baptism. Nick refused to go, so she’d gone alone. Alone-alone. Dad’s friends weren’t Dad’s friends anymore, for the most part. Not the ones Honor knew, anyway. Which was weird because they weren’t Mom’s friends, either. Where had they all gone? Something else lost in the divorce.

Jack had been an adorable screaming thing in a long, lacy dress. Before the day ended, Honor had felt exactly the same way as Jack—miserable and ready to go home.

And then there’d been Amber. Painfully beautiful, model-in-a-bikini gorgeous and mesmerizing. She’d tried to include Honor, sort of. But it was clear she was having a hard enough time with the whole mom thing with Jack. Figuring out where Honor fit hadn’t been a top priority.

That was the only time they’d had together. Last Christmas, their Christmas with Dad, things had “come up,” and she and Nick had stayed with Mom.

And now, there wasn’t time to get to know Amber.

She swallowed some of the soda she and Nick were sharing. It was sweet, too sweet, making the back of her jaw tingle.

“I thought we were sharing,” Nick said, grabbing the bottle.

She shrugged, smiling at him. She held up her phone, showing him the growing list of notifications. He nodded.

“You, too?”

“Yep.” He sighed, sitting on the arm of the chair.

“Sort of nice,” she said.

“Sort of annoying,” he returned, finishing off the soda.

“It’s nice.” Her mom smiled, smoothing the blankets over Jack. “We’re lucky to have people who care about us.”

Honor watched the sure movements of her mother, knowing just how calming her touch could be. Poor Jack. He didn’t have a mother now. Not having her mom around would be unbearable. And Dad… A hard knot lodged in her throat, making her breath unsteady.

Dad would be okay. He had to be okay.

“You want another soda?” Nick asked, interrupting her thoughts.

She shook her head, standing and stretching. A quick glance at the muted television told her the way-too-smiley saleslady was still selling jewelry. Sitting here worrying wasn’t going to do any good. “Maybe a walk?”

“You two go.” Their mom nodded. “Stretch your legs.”

Nick didn’t argue when she hooked arms with him and led him down the hall. He didn’t say anything. Because he was just as freaked out as she was. He’d never admit he was worrying about Dad. But she knew. Nick said he hated Dad, and maybe he did. But part of him still hoped their dad would come home and somehow everything would be okay again.

“You gonna keep it together?” she asked softly.

“What, pretend Dad isn’t an asshole because he had an accident? Or be cool with pretending his kid is somehow worth my time when I was never worth his?” Nick stopped, staring down at her. “Can I say no? Because I’d like to say no. And maybe, ‘screw you, Dad.’” His eyes glistened, but then he tore his gaze from hers and stared at the oblong tiles lining the ceiling overhead.

Honor didn’t say anything as she took his hand in hers. Because, deep down, a small part of her agreed with everything her brother said.