Chapter Ten

“You’re here.” Honor hovered in the doorway. Finding Owen on her doorstep, holding flowers for crying out loud, made her flushed and awkward. What was he doing here? And why? And what was up with the flowers?

He smiled down at her. “Your mom said I was welcome anytime.”

The smile caught her off guard. That smile always caught her off guard. She’d need to work on that. Smiles, flowers, and overall gorgeousness aside, she needed to put Mr. Charming in his place. “She also said to let her know.” She waited.

He laughed. “Not so welcome, then.” He paused. “Here I thought we were making progress.”

She didn’t know what to say to that. Yes, they’d texted and talked on the phone a few times, but she was prepared to come up with an excuse. Like, she felt obligated to him, the stress of the situation, or something. She’d say whatever was necessary to send him on his way—far, far away. Admitting she’d been ready to accept any kiss he’d been planning prior to her mother’s arrival would be the worst possible idea.

Owen’s eyes narrowed a little, like he was trying to figure her out. “And I thought I’d check on Nick, since his job has kept him from working out. He was in bad shape the other morning.” One eyebrow cocked. “The morning I basically carried him here—to safety.”

Honor couldn’t stop herself from laughing. He was persistent, and here, and she was too scattered to think of a witty or scathing comeback.

“Fine.” She stepped back and held the door wide. He could see Nick. That was fine. That made sense. “He’s plugged into his gaming console.”

“Doing better?” he asked, following her.

She nodded. “I guess. He’s been pretty quiet.” Partly because he felt terrible for what he’d done, or so she liked to believe, and partly because he wasn’t okay with their mother going on a date. But it was Dr. Murphy, not some random sleazy dude. That, to Honor, made all the difference. Nick didn’t see it that way.

“Nickie.” Honor waved her hand in front of his face.

Nick held his headset away. “Yeah?”

“Owen’s here.” She pointed. “He brought you flowers.” She ignored Owen’s chuckle and the miles of goose bumps it caused.

“The flowers are for you.” He deposited the massive arrangement in her arms.

Nick was up. “Hey, man.”

“Black Ops?” Owen asked, eyeing the television screen. “You any good?”

“Hell, yeah.” Nick grinned.

Considering how much time he spent on the thing, he should be. But Honor kept her opinion to herself. With any luck, she could leave Owen with Nick and retreat to her room. Alone. Far away from Owen.

“I owe you, man.” Nick’s gaze shifted between them. “I mean, if you hadn’t brought me home, I don’t know if I’d have made it.”

Owen looked at her. “You were in pretty rough shape.”

She got it, already. He was the hero. And she should be nice to him. It was hard not to smile at his ego—but she did her best.

“And covering with my mom like that? You and Honor? I can’t believe she bought that.” Nick grinned at her. “And the other night, at the festival, too.”

“It was her idea,” Owen said, nudging her. “I just went along with it.”

For some reason, Honor had the urge to snap at both of them. Did they not see how offensive that whole exchange was? Owen’s smile, the whole nudge thing, had her bristling. To be fair, everything about Owen seemed to set her on edge. Like the way he was looking at her—standing too close to her—being hot.

“Maybe we’ll get lucky and she’ll buy our breakup, too?” she snapped, shooting daggers at her brother and ignoring Owen.

“She’s still mad at me,” Nick explained.

“And I’ll stay mad until you stop acting like an ass. But since you seem to be on some sort of streak, guess you’re out of luck.” She turned away and stomped into the kitchen for a vase.

“Ooh…” Aunt Charity sat at the table, a box of Froot Loops in front of her. “Who are those from?”

“Owen.” She all but growled his name. Stupid boys.

“The boyfriend?” Charity asked, filling her bowl.

Lying wasn’t something that came easy to her, but saying nothing worked. She dug through the lower cabinet until she found a crystal vase.

“What’s up?” Charity pushed. “Nick’s the wound-up and irritable one. You’re the optimistic Zen kid.”

She pulled scissors from the drawer and snipped away the flower stems. “I’m Zen. I’m totally Zen.” With a sigh, she filled the vase with water and arranged the white lilies, roses, and baby’s breath. “They are pretty.”

“And expensive,” Charity sounded off. “What did he do?”

“Owen’s here.” Her mother pushed through the kitchen door. Her face had been washed clean, the pretty blue dress she’d been wearing for her date had been replaced with yoga pants and a sweatshirt, and her hair was smoothed back into a ponytail.

“You changed.” Charity frowned. “What happened?”

Her mom smiled. “Babies come when they feel like it.”

“That sucks.” Her aunt rinsed her bowl out and put the cereal away. “Did you see what Owen brought Honor? Maybe Graham should take lessons from the kid.”

“Have you seen the kid?” her mother asked. “There’s nothing kid-like about him.” She glanced at Honor then, clearly worried.

“Mom.” She sighed, further exasperated. “Please stop. I’m not going to…to sleep with him, okay? I get that he’s hot. It’s sort of hard to miss. But we’re not even that serious.”

Her mother and aunt stared pointedly at the flowers.

“Fancy flowers like that mean one of two things,” Aunt Charity said. “One: he’s really, really sorry. Or two: he’s really, really head over heels in love.” She winked. “Which is it?”

Honor might not like Owen Nelson—or at least that’s what she kept telling herself—but he had nothing to apologize for. She shook her head, immediately dismissing the other option. He wasn’t the sort of guy who would love anyone more than he loved himself. At least, that’s how he’d always acted in school. He’d charmed his way out of everything—projects and classes and relationships. And, somehow, everyone had continued to love him. So this, all of this, was completely unexpected. Enough so that she couldn’t help but be suspicious. Why on earth had he brought her flowers? “I have no idea,” she answered.

But her mother and aunt weren’t looking at the flowers or her. Both of them were smiling at something over her shoulder. And Honor knew, she just knew, he was behind her. She was not going to turn around.

“Came for drinks,” Nick mumbled. “Should I just start knocking from now on? On, like, every door, so I don’t walk in on women-talk or something likely to scar me for life?”

Charity laughed. “Whatever. You must be the boyfriend with the great taste in flowers. I’m the fun-loving aunt with a mile-wide overprotective streak.” She smiled brightly, making Honor smile, too.

“Guilty.” Owen stepped forward to shake her hand. “Nice to meet you.”

Nick pulled two cans of soda from the fridge. “We’re going now. Before things get awkward again.” He left, balancing sodas, chips, and a package of cookies.

Honor did her best not to look at Owen. Had he heard her? Could today get any worse?

“Glad you came over, Owen,” her mother said. “Popcorn?”

“Thanks for having me, Mrs. Buchanan. Sounds great.”

Honor held her breath and hoped he’d follow Nick out. Instead, he crossed the kitchen to stand a few inches from her. He waited, silently, until she looked up at him. “Without a doubt, option two.” He was staring at her like she was all that mattered, like her mother and aunt weren’t watching and listening to everything—like he meant all the weird and wonderful things that started coming out of his mouth, “Freshman year. Mr. Hamm’s class. You had this black shirt with blue birds stitched on it. Made your eyes so blue.” He shook his head. “First time you ever smiled at me, we were reading Othello out loud. You didn’t want to smile at me—but I earned it. That was it for me. Every smile, it’s the same thing all over again.”

Honor stood there, staring at him, beyond stunned.

“Game’s ready,” Nick yelled from the living room. “Coming?”

“Yep.” Owen’s gaze lingered a moment longer, then he left—taking all the air in the kitchen with him.

“Oh my God,” Aunt Charity said. “Honor, honey. Wow.”

“You see?” her mother whispered. “How can I not worry?”

“Oh, no, you should totally be worried,” Aunt Charity agreed.

Honor stared blindly at the door, heart echoing in her ears. What had just happened? If he’d been trying to cement their cover for Nick’s recklessness, he’d taken things a little too far. He didn’t need to say he was head over heels in love with her. And the other stuff? He remembered the shirt she’d been wearing? The first time she’d smiled at him? He didn’t need to say any of that—he shouldn’t have. So why had he?

…

Felicity pulled the bag of popcorn from the microwave and dumped it into a brightly painted bowl. Honor, who’d been red-faced and nervous since Owen Nelson had made his heart-stopping public declaration, stood distracted and shifting from foot to foot.

“Think that’s enough?” she asked her daughter.

Honor stared into the bowl.

“Honor?” she asked.

Honor picked it up. “It’s great. It’s good. Thanks.” She headed slowly toward the door, hesitated, straightened her shoulders, and walked out.

“That was impressive. He totally rocked her world. Hell, he totally rocked my world.” Charity sighed. “How are you holding up?”

“Honestly?” Felicity asked, sitting in the chair opposite her sister.

“I’m thinking that having a boy be that into Honor might be freaking you out?” Charity shrugged. “I could be wrong, not being a mom.”

“No, no, you totally nailed it on the head.” She sighed. But… Maybe if Owen weren’t so manlike, it’d be easier. Her little girl was still her little girl. “You get it, though, right?”

Charity nodded. “He’s super intense. If we’re being honest—if I were Honor, I would totally jump him. Totally.”

She glared at her sister.

“Come on, Filly.” Charity rolled her eyes. “Did you see the way he looked at her? Do you remember being young and in love? All the passion and heat.” She grinned. “Having a guy more fascinated with you and your body than his own wants and needs.” She sighed, rubbing her arms. “Let’s not forget the all-important endurance.”

“Charity,” she groaned, resting her head on the table. Yes, she remembered. She and Matt had always been crazy about each other. In the beginning, they couldn’t keep their hands off each other. One kiss was all it took to get them naked. Which was why Felicity had walked the graduation stage barely able to conceal her pregnancy—with Honor. She and Matt married that summer, right before they left for college.

“How do you think Doc Murphy’s going to stack up?” Charity asked. “Something tells me he’s going to be good with his hands.”

“Do not go there,” she said.

“Why not?” Charity asked. “How long has it been?”

Felicity peeked up at her sister. “For what?”

“Since you had sex?” Charity asked, bobbing her eyebrows.

“Since before the divorce.” Matt was her one and only.

“But that’s like…years.” Charity shook her head. “That’s depressing.”

She sat up. “I guess so. But he was all I know. It’s not like I can hop into bed with someone just for sex. That would be…weird.”

Charity snorted. “Or super hot and exciting.”

Would it be? She didn’t know how to do that or if she wanted to. Yes, she was single, but that didn’t mean she was going to suddenly set aside her kids for one-night stands—even if the sex might be exciting.

It was the wrong time to remember just how warm and strong Graham Murphy’s hold had been. Better to steer the line of conversation into more neutral territory. “How’d your visit with Maudie go?”

“She’s so old.” Charity frowned. “Her wrinkles have wrinkles.”

Felicity laughed. “That’s mean.”

“But true. Not that it matters. I need a job, and she’s eager to give me one.” She shrugged. “Since I need to stay here, I don’t want to be a mooch.”

“I appreciate that.” Not that finances were a problem. Her father had retired and left her the family business shortly after her divorce was finalized. The Otto Family Drugstore pretty much ran itself, but Felicity put in a few hours each day to keep it that way. It was her job to stay on top of day-to-day operations, close out the registers and deposits, and handle the occasional troubleshooting. She was content. But Charity in a nine-to-five job in Pecan Valley was hard to imagine. “You don’t have to settle for something, Charity. You could even work at the store if you want.”

Charity wrinkled her nose. “I don’t. Though, I do appreciate the offer. Travel is where my heart is. If I can’t travel, I might as well help other people take their dream vacation.”

This was the first time the two of them had had five minutes alone without some crisis to handle. Flare for storytelling aside, Charity was a private person. Still, Felicity didn’t know what had happened to bring her home for more than a whirlwind visit. “Can I ask what happened? All your emails and postcards were so happy. Don’t get me wrong, I love that you’re here. But, well, why are you giving up your dream?”

Charity’s big blue eyes met hers. “I’ve sort of been waiting to tell you because I knew you were going to flip, and things have been so stressful and crazy since I got home that I didn’t want to add to it.”

Her gut tightened. “Something bad?”

“Well… I’m trying not to think about it that way.” Charity laid her arms on the table and tapped her fingers against the wooden top. “I met this guy in Italy. He was a dream, Filly, the deluxe model. Charm, money, education, and he was gifted with a massive d—”

She held up her hand. “I get it.”

“I thought I was in love—we were in love.” She sighed. “Until his wife showed up.”

“Oh, Charity,” she murmured. She knew firsthand how devastating it was to have your heart torn to bits. “Take it from me, a broken heart doesn’t last forever.” She took her sister’s hand in hers and gave it a squeeze.

“My heart is fine.” Charity smiled. “Really. I’ve dealt with that. But there’s another, bigger, likely-to-stick-around problem that I’m not dealing with so well.”

Every STD ad Felicity had ever heard of scrolled through her head. Oh God, was Charity sick? Had the Italian bastard given her something horrible? “What is it?” she asked, her grip tightening. “Whatever I can do, I will. You know that, right?”

Charity nodded. “That’s just it. You can’t do anything. This is all me. I mean, your support and guidance would be great but… I’m going to have to figure out this whole motherhood thing.” She smiled. “Your turn to be the cool aunt, Filly.”

By now, Felicity hoped she’d learned how to keep breathing and blinking without revealing any internal struggle. But she was failing. She loved Charity, adored her, but her little sister’s habit of living in the moment had led to real consequences this time. Consequences Felicity could not carry for her.

“Surprise, right?” Charity asked. “Good surprise?” Her voice broke, just enough to force Felicity to her feet to hug her sister.

“The best surprise,” she murmured, holding her close. “You’re going to be great.”

“And I can stay, right?” Charity’s arms wound around her. “I know this is bad timing and the house is going to be that much crazier if Jack moves in, but I can honestly say this is the most terrifying thing that’s ever happened to me.” She sniffed. “How many goldfish did I kill? Even plants? Now I’m supposed to keep a human being alive?”

Felicity held her tighter, aching for her sister. Learning she was pregnant with Honor had been a surprise, but she and Matt had been so in love and excited that fear had never entered into it. The same with Nick. Felicity immersed herself in motherhood—made cookies for parties, costumes for plays, and never missed a game or concert or field trip. Putting the kids first was one of the reasons Matt cited on their divorce papers. But she and Charity were wired differently.

“Don’t worry, Charity,” Felicity said, stroking her sister’s hair. “You and your baby will be surrounded by people who love you. You’re not doing this alone, okay?”

Charity nodded.

They stayed that way, locked together, until Charity said, “Okay, okay, enough. I’m not liking this emotional junk, so let’s move on to eating ice cream or something.” She smiled at her, already rummaging through the pantry. “Hey, maybe my pregnancy will stop Honor from jumping Owen. You know, I’m a walking poster for premarital sex prevention.”

Felicity sat, hard, in her chair. “Really?” She was still coming to terms with Honor and Owen.

“She’s eighteen, Filly.” Like that said it all. “And, hello, did you see that kid?”

Yes, she’d seen him. And heard him.

And now, after the day she’d survived, she really needed that drink.

…

Nick kept checking the clock. It was after eight. Dr. Murphy was late.

Maybe he wouldn’t show.

Or he’d changed his mind.

If he was lucky—yeah, right—his mother had snapped out of this whole weird dating Dr. Murphy thing and called it off.

His phone vibrated for the eighty-seventh time in, like, two hours and his patience snapped. Eugene and half the JV football team had decided to harass the crap out of him about tomorrow’s big lake party. And Fran, his wannabe girlfriend, was making it extra hard to say no by sending him bikini pics. No other junior was stacked the way Fran Mendoza was. Thing was, she was super sweet, too. Too sweet to drag into his mental breakdown.

And now Diana was blowing up his phone with rapid-fire texts—things were getting better and better. Done. He turned the phone off and tossed it onto the recliner behind him, texts unread.

He didn’t want to deal with Diana, not tonight. If she said how cool it would be for her dad to hook up with his mom one more time, he would lose his shit. His mom had enough to deal with. She needed to stay as far away from Dr. Murphy and Diana as possible.

His mom deserved the best.

And the best man, the best father, would never let his daughter get mixed up with drugs, sneak out, and screw around with some loser who didn’t give a rat’s ass about her. Dr. Murphy being clueless made it hard to respect the man.

Besides, Dr. Murphy was linked to his dad, had been best friends with his dad—that was a big fat strike against him.

Now he needed to make his mom understand. Dating Graham could never work. Ever. Since no one else got that, it was his job to point it out.

“Nick,” Honor gasped, leaning into him as a zombie charged the screen.

He shifted his direction and avoided being killed with ease. “Chill.” He finished the round and picked up his soda can. “I’m empty. Want anything?” he asked Owen.

Owen shook his head. “I’m good, man.”

With a nod, he pushed through the kitchen door. His mother was at the table, propped on her elbow, reading a book. She glanced up when he came in, instantly smiling.

“Need anything?” she asked, already standing.

“I can get it.” He tossed the can in the recycling bin and opened the fridge. “Plans change?” he asked, doing his best to sound noncommittal.

She nodded. “Babies. They’re on their own schedule.”

Nick had vague recollections of his father running out of T-ball games, family dinners, and movies when his patients went into labor. Part of the job.

“You okay with that?” He popped the tab on his soda and waited. Her smile wavered and pressure crashed down on his chest. He didn’t know what was worse: seeing her dating or seeing her unhappy.

She shrugged. “I was looking forward to going out.”

“Because of Dr. Murphy?” he asked, clearing his throat. “Or going out?”

She looked at him with that look—the mom-look. “What’s up, Nickie?”

He cleared his throat again. “Mom, you can’t date him. I know he’s cool, and you think he’s cute or whatever but, you know, Diana. And Mrs. Murphy. And Dad.”

His mom frowned. “What about Diana and Julia and your dad?” She leaned against the counter, crossed her arms over her chest, and waited.

“Diana is a fricking nightmare, Mom. Like, you have no idea. How does he not know how screwed up she is?” He held his hands up in front of him. “You don’t need that. You don’t want that. I don’t want her in my life.”

Her eyes widened. “Nick—”

“No, Mom, I’m serious.” His attempt at persuasion sounded more like desperation. “You don’t think it’s weird to date your best friend’s husband? I get Mrs. Murphy is dead, but still, isn’t that sort of really, really wrong?”

She blinked.

“And he was Dad’s best friend. Which means he can’t be all that great, you know?” He swallowed, the grainy nanny-cam video he’d walked in on too fresh. Whether or not his dad regretted leaving his family was beside the point. He’d left them, period. Even if he had come back, even if he wanted his real family again, it wouldn’t change what he’d done in the first place. Besides, the fight was the night before Honor’s graduation, meaning sometime between their arguing and Honor’s ceremony, they’d made up and were coming together. If they hadn’t, Amber would still be alive and taking care of her kid in the hospital. Bitterness tightened his throat. He didn’t want to think about his dad anymore, period, or anyone linked to him. As far as he was concerned, that part of his life was over.

His mother was staring at him—looking way worried. He smiled, sipped his soda, and tried to calm down. “You can do better.”

“I can?” she asked.

He nodded. “When you’re ready, yeah.”

“But I’m not ready?”

“No.” He sighed. “Are you? I mean, is there someone you’re interested in?”

Don’t freak out. Stay chill. It wasn’t working.

And she saw it.

“No.” She shook her head slowly. “No one.”

“You and Dr. Murphy were just hanging out? As friends?” He’d been freaking out over nothing? Come to think of it, his mom was the only one who hadn’t geeked out over Dr. Murphy’s butt or how cute he was.

“Does that bother you?” She waited, looking anxious.

Did it? No. Hell no. As a friend, Dr. Murphy was awesome. She needed someone to hang out with who she wasn’t related to. “Nah.” He shook his head, breathing easier. “Okay, cool.” He paused. “Sooo, we’re good. You and Dr. Murphy aren’t dating and…everything’s cool.”

“Totally cool,” she repeated, smiling.

Wrong or not, Nick pretended he didn’t notice the effort behind her smile or the disappointment in her voice. Now that he and Honor were basically adults, it was his job to look out for his mom. He was okay with her and Dr. Murphy being friends. And Diana was fine to hang out with now and then—he just didn’t want her around all the time. Or living here. Besides, his mom didn’t need to be saddled with someone else’s kid.