Chapter Four

The last four days had convinced Felicity that everyone she knew had secretly decided the last eighteen months of her life hadn’t happened. No, Matt hadn’t married Amber, but he hadn’t been married to her when he died, either. Once word of Matt’s death got out, something changed. He was once more her beloved husband, town doctor, pillar of the community, and Honor and Nick’s adoring father. Honor took it in stride. Nick did not.

Once the funeral was over, the kids deserved a break. She wasn’t sure where or how, but it might do both of them some good to have a change of scenery. Maybe Charity could take them someplace exciting, let them laugh, grieve…be.

But first they had to survive the funeral.

The day was hot and rainy and gray, so oppressively humid her black dress stuck to her back. By the time family and friends were done sharing their fondest memories of Matt, hostility was rolling off Nick. She took his hand, needing the contact as much as he did. Between the throb in her head and the stifling heat, she was just as ready for this to be over as Nick.

Well, close to it.

Once the service was over, the town descended on the house to continue their support. No one seemed to realize that all Felicity and her kids wanted was to be left alone. She kept smiling, accepting food and hugs of sympathy. Nick was surly and rigid, while Honor did her best to intercept and divert.

Charity, thank God, made running interference for the kids her top priority. Hopefully, Nick wouldn’t blow up on one of the well-meaning citizens of Pecan Valley.

She carried another tray of food into the kitchen, searching the laden counters, island, and table for room. She gave up, gently laying the tray on top of a cake plate and rifling through the kitchen cabinet for two aspirin. The band of pressure around her temples was expanding—and tightening. What she wouldn’t give for a hot bath, some wine, and lots of peace and quiet.

“I think these have pecans,” Charity said, backing into the kitchen toting a massive dish. “Pecan raisin cookies and some zucchini bread—with pecans.”

Pecans were important to Pecan Valley—so important that most residents figured a way to incorporate them into everyday recipes. Sometimes it was delicious. Sometimes, it wasn’t. Felicity cocked a brow at her sister. “It’s nice.”

“It’s weird,” her sister countered. “Was there some sort of time warp I missed on the flight? I mean, I’m not going to turn down the food, but how did this happen? You aren’t married to Matt anymore, right? You’re single. Available. Unattached to Dr. Douchebag. Sorry, guess I can’t do that now that he’s…” Charity broke off, her smile dimming. “Well, sorry.”

Dr. Douchebag. Felicity didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “It’s the town, I think. Someone dies, the town feeds their family. Since Honor and Nick are his only family—and Jack—they’re doing what they feel is right.” Felicity wiped down the sink faucet, finding things that needed to be done in the kitchen to escape the curious, if well-meaning, residents of Pecan Valley. “We take care of one another—through good times and bad. One of the reasons I love this place.” It was a reminder—for herself.

“I say we kick everyone out and you indulge in some seriously hard liquor.” Charity slid onto one of the bar stools. “Nick definitely looks like he could use a drink.”

“My sixteen year old?” Felicity sighed, wiping the marble countertop with vigorous strokes. “I think that might be a bad idea. Besides, I need to head back to the hospital soon, anyway.”

Charity frowned. “No, you don’t, Filly. You need to stay here. Your kids need you. Grams is with baby Jack. She has it under control. As long as she’s got her knitting basket, she’s happy.”

Felicity leaned forward, resting her elbows on the counter. “Maybe.” But there was no maybe about it. Charity was right. “How did my little sister get so smart?”

Charity’s eye roll was epic. “I’ve always been smart. And since you’re actually listening to me, I’m going to add that you need a rest.” Charity took her hand. “And, probably, alcohol. If I remember things correctly, a couple of drinks and you’re out like a light. Might do you some good.”

Felicity pushed off the counter, stretching her back and arms. “I can’t. Not yet.”

“Why? If Jack wakes up and you’re asleep, we’ll wake you up.” She sighed. “Seriously, Filly, how much sleep have you had in the last five days?”

Felicity didn’t answer.

“You’re not going to be much help to anyone if you’re a zombie.” Charity kept on. “You’d probably scare the shit out of Jack, too.”

“Girls.” Their mother came in. “We have guests. You two can run and hide later.”

Charity rolled her eyes again, slid off the stool, and waited for Felicity. “Guess it’s a good thing you’re not taking a nap because I’m not going out there alone.”

Felicity led the way, her cheeks aching from her pinned-in-place smile. She had to. Yes, everyone was here to be supportive, but they were watching—closely. She’d been on the receiving end of sympathetic looks and whispers before Matt’s death. Now, she’d progressed to murmurs of “poor Felicity,” followed by lots of “bless your heart.” Matt’s death was shocking, but she’d lost him eighteen months ago. It was the kids she was worried about.

“Stay strong,” Charity whispered, hooking arms.

If she fell apart now, people would read into it—and her little sister was reminding her of that. More drama should be avoided at all costs. Especially for the kids. “Will do.”

After another hour of playing the perfect hostess, she glanced across the room to see Nick creeping up the stairs as slowly as he could, taking care to dodge the squeaking board, before disappearing from sight. Good. He had the right to some time to himself. After today, this week, they all did. Not too much, not enough to get lost in grief, but just enough.

Gauging that might be a problem.

Not five minutes later, Honor was making her way up the stairs, offering a small wave before making her escape.

“Excuse us, won’t you?” Her mother led her from a group of nurses who had worked with Matt to a small tribe of hat-wearing women that Felicity knew well. “Gram’s widows’ group is here. Come say hello. They brought pecan sticky rolls.”

Felicity accepted hugs and lipstick kisses on the cheek. These women had been a part of her life since before she could remember, and she was thankful for their presence here today. Not only did the widows’ group have stories and “tidbits” to share about everyone in the room—they had strong opinions on who should be doing what and why. It was expected and oddly comforting.

“Felicity, honey, we stopped by to see your grams at the hospital before we came, and we have an idea,” Widow Rainey said, taking her hands. “There’s not a lot to occupy a bunch of old biddies like us—”

“Except doctor’s appointments,” another widow said.

“And bingo,” another added, her gigantic black and tulle hat resting at an impressive angle on her head. “Can’t give up bingo.”

“Fine, fine,” Widow Rainey continued. “What I’m trying to say is, we’d like to help you out with little Jack. We can all take turns watching him while he’s sleeping. That way you’re not chained to that hospital. You’ve got family that need you and a life to live. We don’t mind waiting.”

“You hear that, Felicity?” Charity gushed, joining in. “I’m not the only one worrying over you. I was saying the same thing to her.”

Widow Rainey nodded. “I know you don’t like to burden others, Felicity. And we all admire how well you’ve handled things, but I don’t know of a soul in Pecan Valley who wouldn’t offer up a little time to watch over that baby and take a bit off your plate.”

Felicity’s eyes burned, badly. And her hands, still clasped in Widow Rainey’s hands, were trembling ever so slightly. “I don’t want to impose—”

“It’s no imposition, honey,” one of the women said.

“Not at all,” the jaunty-hat woman continued.

“Wouldn’t have offered if it was,” Widow Rainey finished. “We’ll start tomorrow. Here’s what we’ve worked out. But you just let us know if you need something else.”

Felicity took the graph paper, lined and labeled with a flowing, tidy script. In the margin, each of the ladies’ names and phone numbers was listed. “I…I can’t thank you enough.”

“Well, then, that’s that,” Widow Rainey said, releasing her hands and turning to look at Charity. “I hear tell you got an escort to the hospital by Pecan Valley’s sheriff, Braden Martinez. Not here a few hours and you’re already causing trouble.” She chuckled. “I see Braden’s here, Felicity. Isn’t that nice?”

The question startled her. But then, conversation with Widow Rainey was always a little dizzying. “Yes…” Felicity managed, her gaze finding the man in question.

“When did he get so hot?” Charity whispered for her ears only. “He sure didn’t look like that in high school.”

Felicity swallowed a laugh. Braden Martinez had always been devilishly good-looking. Charity had been too focused on getting out of Pecan Valley to notice anything good about her hometown. But Sheriff Martinez appeared to be just as smitten with her sister as he’d been back then, his heavy-lidded eyes returning to Charity again and again. Poor Braden. Her little sister was more heartbreaker than homemaker—it was who she was.

“Your mother says most of Pecan Valley’s dropped by to show their respect. Your family is loved, Felicity.” One of the widows patted her arm. In seconds, the widows went back to spilling all of the secrets of Pecan Valley.

She kept her smile in place, appreciating the support but ready for a little less community love. Right now, she wanted to follow her kids upstairs and—maybe—have a nap.

…

Honor sat in the large, wingback chair before the picture window. Before Granddad and Mimi had moved to the cottage, this had been their room. The haunted room. That’s what she and Nickie called it. All dark wood, spooky corners, and thick, hide-behind curtains. Perfect for a ghost. Or monster. The sort of place they’d play rock-paper-scissors to avoid going to when Granddad or Mimi had asked them to get something. And, if they lost and had to go in there, they’d run as fast as they could—terrified something would jump out of the dark to get them.

But after the divorce and they’d moved in, this had become Mom’s room. She and Nick had both supported their mother’s plans to gut it. Now it was all whitewashed wood; frilly linens; open space; cream, lavender, and cornflower accents; and an old crystal chandelier. The three of them spent hours together here, sprawled across the floor for homework or piled up on her bed to watch movies or talk. It had become a special place for them all. So, it made sense she and Nick were here, seeking escape from the craziness downstairs.

Nick sat on the foot of the bed, his shoes kicked off, shoveling a massive piece of chocolate cake into his mouth.

“Chew,” she murmured.

Nick shoved the remainder of the cake into his mouth.

She laughed, shaking her head.

He grinned, chocolate covered teeth and all.

“Do not get that on the bed,” she warned, grimacing as he made a huge show of licking the frosting off the plate. “Classy.”

He finished with the plate, set it on the floor, and flopped back on the bed. “Think we’ll still take a vacation?”

Honor stared out the window. The skies were turning dark, a summer storm rolling in. “I don’t know, Nickie.” There was a lot she didn’t know.

Summer had just started. She had three months before she was supposed to move to Austin for college. It wasn’t enough time. She’d known exactly what she wanted since before she could remember. The Otto family had run the town pharmacy from the very beginning. She wanted to carry on her mother’s family tradition—as a pharmacist. Her full scholarship had guaranteed that would happen. But now leaving seemed wrong. How could she? “Where would you go?”

“The beach. Mom always loves the beach,” he murmured. “Fishing, maybe.”

The lump in her throat caught her by surprise. But so had Nick’s answer. Their father had taught Nick how to fish, wading out in the Gulf of Mexico to catch red drum, black drum, sand trout, and hardhead fish. Nick had always complained about going, said he hated it, but in the end he always went. And Dad had always said he lost twice as much bait as the fish they caught, but that hadn’t mattered. It was about their time together.

“Sounds fun,” she managed.

“A break would be nice. Away.” He shrugged. “Far away from all this crap.”

She understood. The texts and phone calls had died down a little, but her world was still upside down. Things like going to the lake, parties, hanging out with friends—or going on a date with the ridiculously persistent Owen Nelson weren’t important. But, with Jack in the hospital, she wondered if a vacation was a possibility.

“When do you start working?” she asked.

Nick had spent the last two years working at the local summer camp as a counselor.

“Not sure I’m going,” he answered. “I heard they’re trying to hire older kids now, for insurance purposes. Besides, Granddad said I could work in the store this summer.”

Honor chewed the inside of her lip. Her mom was worrying about Nick—everyone was worrying about him. Where Honor had held on blindly to hope that they’d eventually find a place in their father’s life, Nick’s heartbreak had twisted into something ferocious and angry. And Dad couldn’t make any of this better now.

Because Dad isn’t just off-with-his-new-family gone. He’s gone-gone. Forever. Dealing with that was…impossible.

“Are we hiding?” Their mother appeared, closing the door behind her.

“Yes,” Nick said, unmoving on the bed.

“Sorry, Mom. They just keep coming.” Honor wrinkled her nose.

“I know they do.” Her mother shook her head. “So does the food.”

“Looks like a storm is rolling in,” Honor said, pointing out the window. “Maybe everyone will head home?”

“Or stay until it’s over,” Nick argued.

Honor saw the smile her mother shot Nick. She looked beautiful in black. Tired, sure, but they all were. Still, she was there for them. Always. Until recently, she didn’t realize just how important that was. They were a team, the three of them. A wave of love washed over her, for her mother and her brother.

“We can hope they head home,” her mother said, pulling the clip from her hair. She sat beside Nick, running her fingers through her long auburn hair. “There is some good news. I think we have enough food to last through Christmas.”

“So, we’re good for a zombie apocalypse?” Nick asked.

“Or a regular apocalypse, even,” Honor added, climbing on the bed beside them. “Zombies are so overdone.”

Their mom laughed. “Either sort, we’ve got food. I need to load up the freezer in the garage, too. Waste not—”

“Want not,” she and Nick chanted in unison.

“Can I eat any of it?” Nick asked.

“You’re not allergic to pecans, Nickie,” Honor reminded him.

“She’s right.” Their mom sort of melted onto the bed, sighing.

Honor lay down at her side, grinning as Nick scooted up the bed until he snagged a pillow.

“I might be,” Nick argued. “If allergic means I think they taste like dirt.”

Their mom laughed, making Nick smile and easing some of the weight Honor had been shouldering since the night of her graduation.

“We’ll sort out the with-pecan from the pecan-free, just for you. And, if you promise not to tell Grams, we might even toss some of it.” Mom’s voice was soft, her yawn bone weary. “I love you guys.” She pressed a kiss to Honor’s temple, then Nick’s. “I’m here, okay? I know things are tough, I know you’re sad, but I’m here. We’ll get through this together. You know that, right? Whatever you need.”

And just like that, things were a teeny bit better. She believed her mother, trusted her. “Okay,” Honor murmured, resting her head on her mother’s shoulder.

“Love you, too, Mom,” Nick said, his voice already thick with sleep.

Honor watched her mother’s eyes drift shut; her breathing grew deep and steady. She pulled the quilt up over them and let her mother’s breathing, her brother’s light snore, and the gentle tap-tap of the rain lull her to sleep.

…

“I don’t want to go.” Diana stared at him, not bothering to hide her frustration. “They don’t care if I’m there.”

“We missed the funeral. The least we can do is pay our respects.” Graham stared at her, floored by her outburst. “We’re going.”

“I’m not.” She crossed her arms over her chest.

“I wasn’t asking.” Graham tucked his wallet into his back pocket and reached for his keys. She’d been spending far too much time closeted in her room, plugged into her earphones and video games. Getting her out of the house would do her some good.

After his meeting with Dr. Keanon, he’d spent every minute he wasn’t at the office with her—much to his daughter’s frustration. Every night, when she showered, he searched her room. He’d recovered the sleeping pills, some of Julia’s expired pain pills, and a bottle of whiskey he’d never seen before. He didn’t say anything about the confiscated items to Diana and, if she missed them, she was smart enough not to say anything to him.

He’d yet to tell her the reason he’d spent a few nights working late was because he was taking a six-week hiatus to delay the inevitable fallout. At this point, he was running on fumes. “We’re going.”

“Fine.” She smiled and her eyes narrowed. “I’ll go.” Her tone left no room for misunderstanding. She would go and make every second a nightmare.

His patience was at an end. He sighed, running a hand over his face. “I’m not sure when we got here, Di, but I’d really like to figure a way back. You’re my daughter and I love you—”

“Right, you love me. You want me to be happy. That’s why you’re making me go to a funeral for some cheating asshole whose son hates me. That makes sense.” Diana was a master eye-roller.

“I might not approve of everything Matt Buchanan did, but I do respect and care about his family. For crying out loud, Di, you know how it feels to lose a parent.”

“Stop calling me that,” she snapped. “I do know. Every day. My mom is gone because you let her go.” Her face was bright red. “So, you’re taking me so I can start a dead-parent club or something equally pathetic with the Buchanan kids? Sounds amazing. Where do I sign up?”

Graham counted backward from five, the sting of her words easier from time. “I’m taking you because they came when your mom died. Because it’s what friends do.”

“We’re friends now?” she bit back. “Mom’s dead and Dr. Buchanan’s dead and now we’re all suddenly friends again? Oh, wait, I get what this is. Why not, she’s hot and you’re both single.”

What? Was she serious? He tried to keep his face blank, but she was so good at pushing his buttons. He was the parent, dammit. She would listen. And he would control his temper. “Diana, enough. I’m not sure why you’ve decided to dislike the Buchanans, but they’re nice people. Nice people who’ve suffered a loss. Kids who used to be your friends and who’ve lost their dad. So, yes, we’re friends again—because they could use some.” He cleared his throat, admitting, “And so could we.”

Diana stared at him—her red lips pressed tight. “I never said I didn’t like them.”

He waited.

“I just don’t understand why they suddenly matter?” she asked.

“I’m not sure why they stopped mattering. I’m sure that was my fault. We were friends before, close. You, Nick, and Honor… I know you remember.” He hoped she remembered.

She stuck her chin out, crossing her too-skinny arms over her chest.

“Would it be so bad to have them back in our lives? Be there for them?”

She stared at him, her eyes huge and dark in her pale face. Her posture eased, barely, just barely. “Fine.” She surprised him, walking to the front door. “Then let’s go.”

Her mood swings were relentless, but he was getting what he wanted so he wasn’t going to argue. Any attempt to engage in further conversation ended when she plugged into her earbuds. He let it go, driving through the rain, hoping the visit wouldn’t be a colossal disaster. The last thing he wanted to do was add to Felicity’s stress level—or her family’s.

In the last few days, his admiration for Felicity Buchanan had only increased. He’d run into her at the hospital a few times, various members of her family in tow. Felicity was a powerhouse, a gentle, caring powerhouse. She steered her family seamlessly, smoothed feathers, offered support, with a smile.

Sitting with her at Jack’s bedside, he’d been struck by a memory. A past vacation, his family and Matt’s had been at the beach. The kids were building a sandcastle and Felicity was strolling along the beach, hunting the ever-elusive sand dollar. Julia had pointed out how beautiful Felicity was to both men. She’d been right, as Julia normally was. And when Matt had whistled at his wife, she’d covered her cheeks and smiled—embarrassed and awkward and charming. He’d never been jealous of Matt. He had Julia. But he’d always thought Matt had been damn lucky.

The day Amber Strauss walked into their practice with her pharmaceutical sample case, mile-long legs, and megawatt smile, he’d felt the air ripple between her and Matt. Still, he’d held on to the belief that Matt loved his family too much to do anything stupid. Attraction was tempting, but what Matt and Felicity had was real and special.

Then Matt had given his family up and left Felicity alone to pick up the pieces.

While he was losing Julia.

When Julia got sick, Felicity helped out. Her funeral? Felicity had taken care of so much. After, he’d been useless—ignoring her calls and avoiding her drop-ins.

In his grief, he’d deserted a dear friend. He realized that now. And felt like an ass. If he could do something to make this easier, he would. Because having a workaholic whose kid is on the verge of being institutionalized around is just what Felicity and her family need. Maybe this was a bad idea. He parked his car and stared at the Otto-Buchanan house.

“It’s not raining,” Diana said, looking out the window. “Soo…are we going in?”

He nodded, regretting that he’d forced the issue.

Diana was out the door and hurrying up the stone walkway, glaring at him when he didn’t pick up the pace.

“Dad?” Diana stared at him, oozing impatience.

“What?”

“Are you going to knock?” she asked, sighing.

He knocked.

Charity Otto opened the door. “Graham, I thought you’d passed the point of needing to knock on the door years ago. Hi, Diana? Look at you, rocking the goth-smolder thing. Nice to see you guys.” She frowned. “God, is it okay to say that? Considering the circumstances?” She shrugged. “Come in, eat, please. Seriously.”

Graham followed Diana inside, closing the door behind them. “Guess we are running late?” The house was empty.

“Sort of.” Charity smiled. “The funeral was this morning, everyone just cleared out, and my folks are at the hospital with Jack. I’d say your timing is perfect.”

Graham smiled. Charity’s sarcasm was surprising—and amusing. “We’d meant to make the service but—”

“Dad was birthing babies,” Diana offered.

“A far preferable experience, I’m sure.” Charity smiled. “All healthy?”

Graham nodded.

“That’s way happier than hanging out in black, trying to come up with nice things to say about…him.” Charity shrugged. “Did I mention you should eat? A lot. We could feed the town for a week. Seriously. Follow me.”

Graham did, smiling when they found Felicity, Nick, and Honor gathered around several tubs of ice cream. “If this is dinner, Diana and I might stay.”

“Yeah, we have like two celery stalks and something growing mold in Tupperware. I vote ice cream.” Diana took the spoon Honor offered.

“Bowls are optional,” Felicity said, squeezing around the table and offering him a bowl. “So is real food, Graham. We have real food, lots and lots of it, if you want me to make you something more substantial.”

“I don’t want to be a bother,” he murmured, trying not to let Diana’s comment about Felicity get to him. But it was there, impossible to ignore. Felicity was attractive. No, she was beautiful—radiating a sort of warmth that was impossible to ignore. Everything about her said “woman” in a way that made a man sit up and take notice. And yes, he noticed. He wasn’t dead. But that had nothing to do with why he was here.

Her green eyes met his. “Gives me something to do,” she explained. “So, please, let me cook for you.”

“Especially since you haven’t eaten all day,” Diana added.

“Take a seat, Doc Murphy. Mom’s the bomb in the kitchen,” Nick said, before shoveling ice cream into his mouth.

“Is that a serving spoon?” Graham chuckled.

“He’s a growing boy,” Honor said, grinning.

“This is awesome. Here I thought it was going to be all crying and talking about Dr. Buchanan and all sorts of depressing shit,” Diana said, happily scooping strawberry ice cream into a bowl.

Everyone stopped to look at his daughter. How did she not hear herself? It was like her thoughts just forced their way out of her mouth without a filter.

Felicity burst out laughing. “I’m in favor of avoiding depressing shit.”

Diana nodded. “Right on.”

“And while I appreciate the vote of confidence on my cooking skills, I’m being lazy. Tonight, my cooking will consist of warming things up.” Felicity opened the refrigerator and started pulling plates, trays, and tubs out. “Ham? Turkey? Meatloaf? Lasagna…” She lifted a lid. “Pasta salad. Green salad, Jell-O salad…some sort of pudding thing—”

“That sounds tempting.” He laughed.

Felicity smiled at him. “Careful or that’s all you’ll end up with.”

He held his hands up. “I’ll take whatever you’re serving… Whatever’s easy.”

Felicity’s gaze inspected the various tubs and plates on the counter, then pulled a plate from the cabinet. “How about a little taste of everything?”

He nodded, sitting on one of the bar stools while Honor called Felicity over.

Charity was staring at him, smiling. “How are things, Graham? I feel like I haven’t seen you in years.”

“You haven’t,” Graham agreed. “Around Nick’s fifth birthday?”

“That sounds about right.” Charity’s smile faded. “Not the best godmother—or aunt for that matter.”

Graham shook his head. “I’m no better.”

“Looks like you picked slackers for your kids’ godparents, Filly.” Charity winked. “We could buy them each a car. Maybe that would make up for it?”

Graham laughed.

“Guess you’re the only OB/GYN in Pecan Valley now, huh?”

“No. We have a new doctor at the clinic. Solid. Experienced. Soft-spoken. Dr. Veronica Luna.” He couldn’t have handpicked a more qualified and competent physician. “Or you could go to my competition. Dr. Marissa Delaney and Dr. Hannah Jorgansen opened a practice.”

“Choose between a mean girl I went to high school with and the wife of one of my dad’s fishing buddies?” she asked. “No thank you. As far as I’m concerned, it’s you, this Dr. Luna, or a drive into Austin.”

Graham grinned.

“Awesome.” She sucked in a deep breath, an odd expression crossing her face. “Guess that keeps you busy. Open this for me?” She held out a wine bottle and opener. When he took them, Charity put a wineglass in front of him. “Drink?”

He shook his head as he opened the bottle. “Driving.” But it was tempting.

Charity nodded. “Someone was talking about you today.”

“Oh really?” he asked, absently twirling the cork from the open wine bottle. Felicity’s laugh drew his attention. She was listening to the kids, looking almost relaxed. Whether or not that was the case was another story. He’d begun to realize just how good she was at shielding her emotions from the rest of the world. It had to be exhausting.

“Yep. Widow Rainey.” Charity sounded downright giddy.

That got his attention. For Widow Rainey, matchmaking ranked right up there with knitting and quilting and getting into everybody else’s business. She meant well; she did. But this…dating? He wasn’t interested. He wasn’t ready. Apparently his gentle, but firm, attempts to dissuade the woman from finding him a “compatible partner” were useless. No surprise, really.

Even if he was, there was Diana. He didn’t know if it was possible for his daughter to dislike him more than she currently did, but he had no interest in finding out. “I’m pretty sure I don’t want to know.” He set the cork on end, doing his best not to sound irritated.

Charity nodded. “Exactly. Not that she named names, but she has someone in mind for the good doctor of Pecan Valley.”

Great. Graham rubbed a hand across the back of his neck.

“He’s so not interested.” Diana jumped in, stealing a roll from his plate. “She’s been trying to set Dad up for a while now. I keep telling him he needs to get out more. I mean, look at him—he’s totally a hottie. And he’s obnoxiously focused. And loaded.”

His daughter was giving him compliments…sort of. “Um, thanks?” But now Honor and Nick, Charity and Felicity were all studying him openly, and he didn’t like it.

“OMG, Dad, you’re totally blushing.” Diana giggled.

He stared at his daughter, seeing his baby girl, giggling and carefree, with no trace of her normal hostility. He smiled back, etching everything about that moment into his mind.

“Well, this got awkward.” Nick grabbed the ice cream tub, turning to Diana. “You play Black Ops?”

“Um, do I? You wanna get your ass kicked, lead the way,” Diana said, sliding off the kitchen chair.

“Can’t we play Mario Cart?” Honor asked, following them. “You know, something without exploding body parts or weapons of mass destruction?”

“Whatever happened to board games? Like Clue?” Charity asked.

“Nah, come on, Aunt Charity. I bet you can kill-shot zombies like a boss.” Nick nudged his aunt, teasing. The kid had a great smile.

Graham sat watching as the kitchen emptied of everyone but Felicity and him. “Who knew ice cream was the cure for teenage angst?”

“I’m afraid the effects might be temporary. But I’ll take what I can get.” Felicity laughed. “Hope you don’t have any plans because it looks like you’re staying for a while.” She slid the plate in front of him. “Once Nick gets plugged in, it’s all over.”

“Diana’s the same.” He didn’t mind staying. Better than going home, waiting for the opportune moment to search his daughter’s room for any cause for concern. Additional concern. Worrying about his daughter had become a twenty-four-hour occupation. This was as close to a break as he was going to get.

“It’ll do him some good. Diana, too.” She looked at him, thoughtful, as if she had more to say.

He waited, wanting to know what she was thinking. But she only smiled and went back to tidying, and he turned all his attention to the plate she’d made for him. It was piled high. He shot her a look, loving her answering impish grin.

“I hate to throw food out.” Her hands smoothed the plastic wrap over a tray of brownies.

“You can’t expect me to eat all of this?”

“You can do it. According to your daughter, your pantry is bare.” She glanced at him, opening the fridge. “You have to take care of yourself, for her. You know that, right? She watches you.”

“Glares at me.” He swallowed a bite of turkey. “That’s impressive.” With his fork, he pointed at the strategically packed shelves of her refrigerator. “You weren’t kidding about the food.”

“I’m sending some home with you. That pudding thing for sure.”

He laughed. “Just what I wanted.”

“I thought as much.” She closed the refrigerator door and faced him. “No matter how she acts—Diana, I mean—she’s paying attention to what you do. Probably more than you realize. I know it’s been a while since we talked but…how are you?” That green gaze locked with his.

“You’re asking me how I am?” Her question made him feel like an even bigger ass. He and Diana had been doing this dance for a couple of years now. Felicity, her kids, were facing a whole new sort of hell. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that question?”

“You go first,” she pushed, a furrow forming between her brows. “Graham?”

“I’m hanging in there.” Which was true. “Every day it gets easier.” Which wasn’t true but he couldn’t bear to unload on her.

“Good. Julia wouldn’t want you to hold on to the hurt. You know that.” There were tears in her eyes. Because she’d loved Julia, too. “She loved seeing you both happy. She’d want that now.”

The lump in his throat doubled in size, preventing him from answering her. It had been so long since he’d allowed himself to think about Julia beyond the sickness and loss.

“I’m sorry.” Felicity covered his hand with hers. “It’s none of my business and I—”

He stared down at her hand, covered it with his. The touch was casual enough, but it meant more than she could understand. Affection of any sort was no longer commonplace in his life. And her hand was so soft and warm in his. “Don’t be. You’re right. It’s a good reminder.” He smiled at her. “Need more of them.”

She nodded. “Definitely.”

He blew out a long, slow breath, sliding his hands away from hers. Somehow, he’d gone from being the comforter to the one being comforted. Which was the last thing she needed. “Want a ride to the lawyer’s next week?” he asked before taking a bite.

“That would be great.” Her gaze darted to the kitchen door. “I keep hoping Amber has some long-lost sister or aunt, someone to take Jack. Is that wrong?”

Graham shook his head. “The kids don’t know about Matt’s request?” He couldn’t blame her. How the hell did you have that conversation?

“No.” She sat on the stool next to him, propping herself on her elbow, and whispered, “I’m scared. They’ve had a rough two years. I’ve tried to reassure them they will always come first because, for me, they do. And now… I can’t make them love Jack.” She shook her head.

“But that baby boy… None of this is his fault. He’s just a baby. A baby with no one to love him.” Her green eyes searched his. “I don’t know what to say to make this okay. If I can make this okay. Honestly, I’m not okay with this—any of it. But I’m trying to be.”

“Say that,” Graham said. “They know you love them. They might not take the news well initially, but they’ll understand. They’re good kids.” He hoped like hell he was right. Honor would step up, ready and willing to be Jack’s sister. But Nick? It could go either way.

“Want anything else?” Felicity asked.

He glanced at his plate. “I’m stuffed.”

“You didn’t eat much. I can make some coffee, too, if you like?”

“That’s not necessary.”

“I know, but I don’t mind. And I want some.” She waved off his words, putting dishes away. “Charity mentioned the widows’ group has made you their newest project. I think I know who the widows have picked out for you.”

“Is there a way to kindly refuse Widow Rainey’s services? An unsubscribe or opt-out option?” But now he was curious.

Felicity laughed. “You don’t want to know?”

He shrugged. “Not really. But if you want to tell me…”

She smiled, leaning against the kitchen counter. “My sister. Charity.”

“Huh.” Graham glanced at the kitchen door. Charity? There was no denying she was pretty. But her sister wasn’t on his radar. Did he even have a radar anymore? Outside of his daughter, there were no women in his life. Maybe that was wrong? He was forty, not eighty. In a few years, Diana would be gone, and he’d be older—and still alone. But Charity? No. She wasn’t the settling-down sort, and he wasn’t the carefree, world-traveling type.

“It’s okay for you to live, Graham. You know that, don’t you?” Felicity pulled mugs from the cabinet and filled the coffee pot.

“I guess.” Was there a woman strong enough to take on his broken heart and his damaged daughter? And, if there was, could he love her the way she deserved? “I’m not sure I can.” He looked at her. “I don’t know where I’d start…or if it’s worth it.”

“I get it.” Her sad smile gutted him. “There’s safety in not putting yourself out there—in not being rejected or left. I’m not sure I’d survive having my heart ripped out again.” She forced a smile and shrugged. “But we should try? Shouldn’t we? At least that’s what my mother, my sister, Widow Rainey…everyone keeps telling me.”

Graham chuckled. “You, too, huh?”

“The joys of small-town living.” She poured the coffee. “Cream? Sugar?”

“Black. And thank you.”

“Brave man. I make it super strong; you’ve been warned.” Her green gaze met his. “It’s really nice having you and Di here.”

He was still contemplating her words when her phone started vibrating, ending their conversation.

“Hi, Mom…” She paused. “What? When?” She stared at Graham. “No…no… I’m on my way.”

Graham stood. “What’s wrong?”

“Jack. He’s awake.” She took a deep breath.

“I’ll drive,” he offered.