Chapter Five

“Where are you going?” Charity paused in her hunt for munchies. Her sister’s pale complexion and Graham’s clenched jaw were signs all was not right with the world. Again. She’d come home expecting it to be the same boring, predictable place she’d been so eager to leave years ago. How she wished that was the case.

“Jack’s awake,” Graham said, shrugging into his coat. “I’m taking Felicity to the hospital.”

“I’ll hold down the fort. Diana and Nick are having way too much fun blowing each other up to interrupt.” She held up the bag of Cheetos and pack of red licorice laces. “With enough sugar, they probably won’t even know you’re gone.”

“Are you sure?” Graham wavered.

Poor Graham. He was all serious and responsible. Like Felicity. And, after listening to Diana, it was clear he and her sister probably shared something else: the need to go out and have some fun. If they were really lucky, they’d get laid. Big time. Talk about a stress reliever. Why two good-looking singles would choose to remain sad and celibate didn’t make any sense.

Her gaze darted from one to the other, the ideas bouncing around in her mind all good ones.

Her sister.

Graham.

Oh my God, yes. Move over Widow Rainey, I’m all over this matchmaking thing. “Sure, I’m sure. If they get burned out on video games, we’ll find a horror movie to watch. Or something.”

Felicity hugged her. “Thank you.”

Graham handed her his card. “In case you need me.” Oh, she was going to need him, all right. But for reasons that had nothing to do with his daughter. There was something dependable about Graham Murphy. And since she had no idea what she was doing, she needed a doctor she trusted. She’d already called to make her first prenatal appointment, and she was counting on the whole doctor-patient confidentiality thing—for the time being. Her family couldn’t take one more hit at the moment.

“Feel free to, you know, go have a drink or see a movie or something afterward.” She stared right back at them. Too much. Way too much. Tone it down, Charity. “What? Maybe we could use a break from you two? Ever think of that? Maybe giving them a night of video games, horror movies, and junk food away from their parents is just what they need?” She sighed.

“We’ll be back as soon as we can.” Felicity shot her a look.

Her sister was so off her game. Good thing she was here to help things along.

Graham nodded and held the door for Felicity. Because he was a gentleman. Exactly what her sister deserved—for a change.

Charity peeked out the front glass door, watching as they hurried down the walkway. Sometimes, life could suck. Those two had had more than their fair share of sucking. As Graham’s black luxury SUV pulled away from the curb, she hoped they’d take her suggestion to heart. A few shots and some heavy petting might just help them both relax.

Her sister was the strongest person on the planet, but she had to be running on fumes. Not that Felicity would say so, or confide, or lean—she was way too into the big-sister protector thing. Still, Matt had been dead five days. In those five days, her sister had been saddled with his funeral arrangements, keeping her kids’ spirits up, and the whole “when will the ex’s illegitimate love child and destroyer of her niece and nephew’s happy family wake up from his coma?” thing.

Charity felt for the baby, she did. But her loyalties were here, to Nick and Honor, and Felicity, too.

She grabbed a bag of sour-cream-and-onion chips and added it to her pile of snacks, then backed out of the kitchen. “Who’s hungry?” she asked, flopping onto the couch beside Honor.

Honor was watching the bloody melee on the television, a growing look of disgust on her face. “This is horrible. I keep jumping.”

Nick chuckled. “You should try it. Definitely calms the nerves.”

Charity snorted. She was pretty sure trying to shoot a zombie before it bit into you wasn’t relaxing. At least not her idea of relaxing.

“Right?” Diana added. “Dad took my game away because of the whole pot thing. It sucks, big time. Which is why I have lots of sleepovers.”

Charity didn’t say a word. She wasn’t sure how to read Diana yet. Was she really messed up? Or was she acting messed up for attention?

“Pot?” Honor asked.

Diana nodded, taking a licorice lace from Nick. “It’s no big deal. It was one joint. One. The school totally flipped out and expelled me.”

“You were expelled?” Nick looked skeptical.

“Why else do you think I’m going to your school next year?” Diana rolled her eyes. “Dad can’t buy my way back into any of the private schools. Why he thinks I’m better off at a private school versus a public school is beyond me. Where does he think I bought the pot to begin with?”

So, the real deal then. Not that she was going to judge the girl. She couldn’t imagine how hard it would be to lose a parent. There had been plenty of times during her school years when she’d wished her parents would leave her alone—disappear even. But death? Permanently losing one? She couldn’t imagine that.

Was this one of those times she should act like an adult or not? Felicity would probably pop off some after-school-special message that would instantly and forever change Diana’s outlook on life into some happy rainbow-and-cupcakes-kitten thing. But Charity didn’t know how to do that. She didn’t know how to be a mom. The kid in her belly was getting a raw deal. She needed to start taking notes on Felicity’s parenting style.

“Is my dad still in there with Felicity?” Diana asked, nodding at the kitchen door. “What are your thoughts on that?”

Charity perked up then. This kid was smart.

“On what?” Honor asked, covering her eyes as Nick did some horrible exploding, stabbing thing to a group of virtual zombies and the screen went red. “Gross.”

“My dad. Your mom.” Diana waited.

Nick clicked a button on his controller, pausing the slaughter. “What about your dad and my mom?”

“I don’t know. I think, maybe, they should get together.” She shrugged. “You know, my dad’s as cool as a dad can be. And your mom is awesome.”

Nick stared at Diana like she’d sprouted another head. “Like dating?”

Honor giggled. “Nick, Mom has been alone for a long time,”

“I know that.” He leaned back against the couch. “Dad really screwed her over. I figured she’d stay single. Wouldn’t blame her if she did.”

“She’s way too young and pretty, Nick,” Diana argued. “Better she and my dad get together than some other loser.”

Charity’s heart broke a little bit for her nephew when she saw the look on his face. “Would that bother you?” she asked.

Nick glanced at the kitchen door.

“I like the idea,” Honor spoke up. “If Mom’s happy, I’m happy. Right, Nickie?” She nudged her brother.

Charity ruffled her nephew’s hair, feeling the need to soothe Nick’s ruffled feathers. “I’m pretty sure neither of them is thinking about dating—each other or anyone else.”

Diana sighed. “Which is sad. I mean, life is too fricking short to be alone and miserable all the time.”

Charity smiled at Diana. “That’s where you’re wrong. Neither one of them is alone. Your dad has you, and my sister has these two. And I’m pretty sure you guys make them very happy.”

Diana’s gaze fell from hers, her black-tipped fingers picking at the crocheted trim on the throw pillow in her lap. “Yeah. No. Not in my house. My dad hasn’t been happy since my mom died.” She shoved the pillow aside. “We ready?” she asked Nick.

Charity felt horrible. This was what happened when she tried to be all wise and maternal. She stuck her foot in it. Big time.

“Yeah.” Nick nudged a controller in her direction. “You can spawn in, be on my team.”

“Cool,” Diana said, smiling at him. “Let’s kick some zombie ass. Come on, Honor.”

“Fine.” She took another controller from Diana. “But this isn’t going to be pretty.”

“It’s a zombie-hunting game. It’s not supposed to be.” Nick sighed a long-suffering sigh that had Charity giggling.

But thirty minutes later, she’d reached her threshold for kill-shots and sniping and zombies running at the screen.

Everyone was occupied. Now was the time to do what she’d wanted to do since she found the nanny cam in Matt’s apartment. She didn’t know what she was looking for or why it mattered, but it did. Maybe she needed proof that Amber’s social media posts were a cover-up. Maybe she wanted to know Matt missed his real family—even a little. She carried her bag of sour-cream-and-onion chips into Felicity’s home office and stuck the nanny cam video card into the slot on Felicity’s computer.

Most of it was Jack napping.

Upside, she now knew Jack really loved his blue blanket with clouds and lambs all over it—Nick’s blanket. He held it in one hand and sucked on the thumb of his other hand. It was adorable. Poor little guy. It wasn’t his fault he was a home-wrecker.

She pressed fast forward. Other than napping, there were a few bits and pieces of diaper changes. Matt rocked his son, but she didn’t want to watch that. She remembered all too well the kind of father Matt had been to Honor and Nick—before he became a walking cliché.

She stopped the recording a few times, but nothing exciting happened. Until it did. Amber walked into the nursery. She was wearing to-die-for heels and a glamorous and perfectly tailored suit. She walked toward the crib and peered inside. Jack was screaming.

“He’s coming,” Amber said. “Daddy’s coming.” She reached in and patted the baby awkwardly. “Matt? What’s the holdup?”

“Pick him up, Amber,” Matt answered, somewhere off-screen.

“I’m in my work clothes,” she bit back.

Matt appeared, wearing scrubs, his jaw covered in a heavy stubble. He reached into the crib and picked up Jack, who instantly plugged his thumb into his mouth and calmed. “This is all he wants.”

“Don’t lecture me again, okay?” She was upset. “I’m not cut out for this. We need a nanny.”

“I agree.” He was patting Jack, rocking the boy in his arms. “But a nanny won’t be twenty-four seven. We need to make time for each other and our family. Both of us. It’s important.”

“So is my career. You knew I wasn’t one of those women who thinks her greatest achievement is her children. That’s not who I am.” Amber crossed her arms over her chest. “That’s Felicity. And you left her, remember? Something about how she always put the kids first? How she stopped making time for you? Stopped taking care of your needs.” She sighed. “You picked me, Matt.”

Matt was quiet for a beat, then said, “Felicity is a good mother.”

“I’m not? Are you kidding me? Why do you think I’ve interviewed so many nannies? Why I’ve fired three of them? I want the best for Jack.” Amber cut him off. “Stop trying to make me the bad guy, Matt. I’ve never changed. Ever. I’m beginning to think you have.”

Matt didn’t say a word.

“The way you’re acting… I need a break. We both do.” She sighed. “Go to Honor’s graduation on your own tomorrow. Take Jack with you. You and Felicity and the kids can all be one big happy family again.”

This happened the day before the accident? It made the argument ten times worse.

“Fine.” Matt’s voice was tight.

Amber stood there, shaking. “That’s all you’re going to say?” Apparently, she hadn’t expected Matt’s answer. “You don’t want me to go?”

“Tomorrow is about my daughter, Amber.” He cleared his throat. “I’ve been a shit father for the last year, but that’s going to stop now. My kids, all of them, deserve to have a father. I want to be there for Honor. Maybe get Nick to…look at me—to start…”

“Another choice you made, Matt.” She sighed. “I can’t be here. I’ll… I don’t know what I want anymore. I don’t know about anything.” She walked out.

Matt sat in the rocking chair with Jack, barely flinching at the sound of the front door slamming.

“She’ll be back, Jack. She always comes back.” Matt spoke clearly, no hesitation. “But she’s right, and I need to tell her I made the wrong choice.”

Charity jumped at the crash behind her. She spun around to find Nick in the door, a pie splatted on the floor at his feet. But the devastation on his face, the yearning and regret, tore Charity’s heart into a million tiny pieces.

“Nick.” She was up, reaching for him, pulling his stiff body into a tight embrace.

“It’s cool, Aunt Charity.” He patted her back, shrugging out of her hold as quickly as possible. He stooped, raking the squished pie into the metal pie pan. “Guess they made up, huh, since they were all coming to Honor’s graduation. One big, happy family.”

“Nick—”

“Can we order pizza?” he asked, standing, eyeing the residual pie stickiness on the floor. “And rent that horror movie you were talking about? The shark-storm thing? After I mop.”

If he didn’t want to talk about it, she wouldn’t push it. But this was so a big deal. Technically, it was her fault her nephew had just had his heart ripped out again. How did she make this better? Could she? It was too late for Matt to fix things with Nick—but it had to ease some of Nick’s rage knowing his father had wanted to. Didn’t it?

Or, shit, had it just made it a million times worse?

“Order whatever you want,” she said. “My wallet’s in my purse. I’ll clean it up.”

Nick nodded, cradling the pie pan against his chest as he headed back toward the living room. He looked so like Matt. Acted like him sometimes. The pre-deserted-his-real-family-for-a-bimbo Matt she’d thought of as her brother. Her heart twisted again. He’d regretted leaving his family… He wanted to tell Amber as much. She wasn’t sure whether she hated Matt a little less or a whole lot more.

…

Felicity could hear Jack as soon as the elevator doors opened. Crying. Inconsolable.

“I should have been here,” she murmured to herself.

“It wouldn’t have made a difference,” Graham answered, his hand catching hers. “Breathe, Felicity. Be calm. You can’t be everywhere at once. He’s awake, but he doesn’t know who you are. You know he’s yours now. He doesn’t.” Graham’s brown eyes held hers.

He was right, of course. Jack would have woken up screaming his head off whether or not she was at his bedside. He didn’t know her. No matter what the lawyer said at their upcoming meeting, this little boy wouldn’t see her as his mother—she was a stranger.

But, stranger or not, she couldn’t bear the sound of his crying. She squeezed Graham’s hand before letting go. The closer they got, the louder his wailing became. She sucked in a deep breath, put a smile on her face, and walked into the room.

“Oh, Filly, he’s in a state,” Grams said when she spotted them.

“Don’t worry. He’s a little disoriented.” A nurse was checking his chart. “Give him some time, and he’ll settle down.”

Disoriented? More like terrified. Of course he was. Waking up alone in a strange place. Not a familiar face in the bunch. Her heart ached for the baby boy.

The nurse smiled. “I see you brought some of his things. That might help. Does he have a favorite toy? Or a blanket? Something familiar.”

She carried the bag full of Jack’s things to the bedside, praying something inside worked. “Here’s hoping,” she murmured, the little boy’s bright red face worrying her. “Can I hold him?” she asked the nurse. “I don’t want to hurt him.”

The nurse smiled. “Hugs are encouraged but we don’t want to move that leg too much.”

Grams moved so Felicity could sit on the edge of the bed. “Hi, Jack.”

Jack stopped screaming long enough to look at her with huge light-brown eyes. Brown, not blue or green. Light brown. Amber’s eyes.

She smiled, smoothing the curls from his forehead. “I’ve been waiting to meet you.” She touched the tip of his nose. “I’m glad you woke up.”

He sniffed, his chin wobbling, before he pressed his eyes tight and began to fuss again.

“Hey, hey now, little one,” she soothed. But Jack turned his face into the pillow, away from her, and crossed his arms over his chest.

“You can cry.” She continued to stroke his forehead. “I’d cry, too, waking up and not knowing what was going on.”

Her grandmother squeezed her shoulder.

Felicity smiled up at her. “Grams, I’ll stay now. Thank you so much for sitting with him.”

“I’ll be back tomorrow, Filly—with the other ladies.” She pressed a kiss to her cheek. “It’ll all be right as rain, you’ll see. Keep on loving him; he’ll come around in no time.”

Felicity hugged her grandmother goodbye, praying she was right. She didn’t like feeling helpless. And right now, she’d never felt so helpless. With a wave, Grams left, and Felicity started rubbing Jack’s back. Offering comfort, through touch, was all she could do.

“Let’s see what we have here,” she said, opening the bag and pulling out a few things.

Jack had no interest in the purple hippo or the soft truck that beeped when you hugged it. He ignored the board book on dinosaurs, too.

“I can go to Matt’s condo tonight and bring back more options,” Graham offered, watching from the foot of the bed.

“I think Charity and I already cleaned out the nursery,” she murmured softly.

Graham sat on the opposite side of Jack’s hospital bed. “Was it bad?”

There was no point pretending she didn’t understand his question. She glanced at him, wrinkling her nose before rifling through the bag for other options for Jack. “It was something I hope never to experience again.” She pulled out a toy plastic phone and the blue blanket covered in lambs and clouds.

Jack stopped screaming, grabbed the blanket, and tucked his thumb in his mouth.

“Well.” Felicity smiled at the little boy.

“Looks like a winner to me.” Graham’s chuckle was soft.

Jack was staring at Graham now, sniffling and wary, but no longer screaming.

“Does he know you?” she asked.

“No.” Graham leaned forward, his peekaboo attempts warming Felicity’s heart. “Matt pretty much cut all ties to Pecan Valley once he moved to Austin.” He kept his voice playful, all his attention focused on the toddler.

Jack kept sucking his thumb, his eyelids growing heavy.

“Should he be tired already?” she asked. There was so much she didn’t know, it scared her a little.

“Perfectly normal,” Graham assured her. “His body has been through a lot of trauma. And he’s a little guy. He’ll tire easily for a while. Once he dozes off, I’ll see what I can find out about his prognosis and treatment plan.”

“Thanks, Graham.” She drew in a deep breath.

His brown eyes bounced to hers, his smile crinkling the corners of his eyes nicely. “If you need anything, or if I can help out somehow, tell me, okay? I’m here.”

He had no idea how much his offer meant to her. Not that she could burden him with any of her baggage—but still. She nodded, swallowing back the sudden tightness in her throat.

Jack pulled his thumb from his mouth and squealed, a frustrated sound that startled them both. He tried to sit up, but the cast was too restrictive, keeping him flat on his back and triggering another batch of tears.

“Bet that cast is no fun,” Graham said, reaching forward to pick up the blue-and-black-striped tiger toy Felicity had pulled from her bag. “It’ll take time to get used to.” He made a silly face.

Jack blinked, his uneven breath and tear-streaked cheeks tugging at Felicity’s heart. “I’m so sorry, little guy.”

Jack glanced her way, his scowl almost comical. Clearly, he preferred Graham. He tugged the blanket tighter and resumed furiously sucking on his thumb.

“You like your blanket?” She smiled. “Nick had one just like it. Nick’s your big brother.” She paused, studying the little boy whose gaze fixed on her face. “When he was little, he carried it everywhere he went. It got frayed and dirty by the time I managed to get it away from him.” She ran her hand over the edge of Jack’s blanket. “Your daddy called it his germ mat.”

Jack tugged the blanket from Felicity’s touch and turned his face away from her. From this angle, he could be Nick, with his golden curls and his round cheeks working away as he sucked his thumb. Silence washed over them. Felicity did her best to keep thoughts off the life she’d lost forever. It had taken her a while to come to terms with her divorce, but she had. Now she was a wiser, stronger, and far more cautious woman than she’d been before. But that was good, wasn’t it? So she wouldn’t be blindsided the next time something unexpected cropped up.

Like this.

No. She’d been blindsided anyway.

Little Jack’s chest rose and fell steadily, the quiet easing him into a peaceful sleep. For now. But when he woke up again, she’d still be a stranger. His favorite blanket could only do so much.

“Sometimes I miss this.” Graham kept his tone soft and soothing. “When a pacifier or a favorite toy could fix almost everything.”

She nodded and sat back in her chair. Infancy, toddlerhood—they’d been golden years that she’d enjoyed with every fiber of her being. Teenagers were different. She studied Graham Murphy. He was raising a teenage daughter on his own. And not just any teenage daughter. Diana was a mess, broken and screaming for attention. She knew Nick struggled with his emotions from time to time, but Diana—well, you couldn’t live in Pecan Valley without hearing things. And Diana Murphy’s antics came up often. From her suggested relationship with a no-longer-employed coach at one of the private schools in a neighboring town, to her pot possession and expulsion from the small Catholic school in Pecan Valley—Diana seemed bound and determined to leave a wake of destruction behind her.

“Diana was an easy baby.” He continued, almost as if he’d read her mind. “Quick to smile and laugh.” He glanced at her, the vulnerability on his face too raw to stay quiet.

“She’s testing you,” she murmured softly.

“And I’m failing.” He paused, hesitating before he added, “I don’t know how to change that or even if I can.”

It was impossible to imagine what he was describing. No matter what they’d been through, she and her children were close. At least, she hoped they were. If Matt had taught her one thing, it was people’s perspectives varied widely. She thought they were close—close enough to know when her children were in distress. Diana was clearly in distress, quite possibly the sort of distress that needed professional help. “Don’t be offended, okay, but have you thought about counseling?”

“I’m not offended.” Those brown eyes met hers, raw and bleak. “She’s been seeing a psychiatrist since Julia died—after she tried to kill herself the first time.”

Felicity tried not to react. Diana had tried to kill herself? Multiple times? And he’d had to deal with that on his own? “Oh, Graham…”

“Her psychiatrist wants to admit her to one of those rehab places.” He cleared his throat. “Like sending her to that sort of place will help her. Maybe it’s the best thing for her, but my instincts tell me it’s not.” He blinked and his voice was thick. “If I send her away, she’ll hate me even more. I’d be deserting her—the way I did her mother.”

Surely, he didn’t believe that? “You never deserted Julia, Graham.” He’d been at his wife’s side through her entire cancer ordeal.

“I let her die.” The words were harsh. “I gave her permission to stop fighting.” He sat back slowly, his gaze settling on the sleeping boy. “That’s the way Di sees it. I gave Julia permission to let go and stop fighting. I took her mother away.”

Felicity watched Graham—the way he rolled his head and ran a hand along the back of his neck. Diana was too young to understand how lucky she was to have this man for a father. Or how much her actions and words hurt.

“While I was obsessing over losing my wife, my daughter was losing her mother.” He cleared his throat again. “It took me a while to realize that I’d been self-absorbed. Like Matt, I abandoned my daughter and my responsibilities.” He looked at her then. “I won’t do it again. I can’t risk it.”

It was on the tip of her tongue to argue with him. He wasn’t Matt. But she knew what he meant. Adults didn’t have the luxury of immersing themselves in their own emotional experiences—not if there were children in the mix. “Adulting sucks sometimes.” She smiled at him, relieved when he smiled in return.

“You can say that again,” he agreed. “Might sound wrong, but Jack’s the lucky one. He’ll never know what he lost or what he’s missing.”

She leaned forward, taking the little hand in hers. Graham was right. Jack’s leg would heal and whatever memories he had of Matt and Amber would be hazy at best. He was so young. That was some sort of blessing.

Nick, Honor, and Diana? They understood all too well. Their wounds would take years to heal. And the guilt she and Graham carried for wounding their children?

Would they ever recover from that?