It was Sunday, and they were all converging on the big house for dinner.
The entire family had come together for dinner on Sunday afternoons for as long as Josh could remember. Supposedly the tradition dated back to when the Morenos had come to Cabrillo.
Lil looked tired as she set out the dishes. The baby, Gabriella, was already two months old, but she seemed to not understand the concept of sleeping through the night. Or sleeping at night at all, judging by the wailing Josh had heard every few hours the previous night. But she was a cute baby, staring up at her dad as he bounced her in his arms, which probably made up for the hell she was putting her parents through.
Pilar was at dinner too, helping Lil. She’d brought Javier with her. Josh gave him a significant look across the table, a silent request for a meeting.
He needed to see if Javier was willing to drive him around some more. It was galling, relying on others to ferry him like a kid without a learner’s permit, but he still wasn’t ready to take on the responsibility of driving, even just to work. Especially not after seeing Leonora again.
It wasn’t that he felt the urge to pick up a bottle again—he was dead sober and planned on staying that way. It was more that he didn’t feel he’d earned the right to drive. It was a small irritation, just one more to add to the list, one of the many that would hopefully harden him into a newer, better man.
Speaking of better men… Benedict sat at the head of the table where their father used to sit. He was staring at his plate, his hand curled into a fist on the table. Pilar set a basket of bread next to him, catching his eye as she did. Benedict gave her a smile that was totally besotted.
That had surprised Josh, how much his siblings had changed while he’d been gone. Not just that they’d gotten older, but that they’d become more content as well.
Growing up, their roles in the family had been rigid to the point of ossification. Benedict was the responsible, steady one. Lil was the wild-child tomboy. Luke was the charmer and the joker.
Which left… well, not much for Josh to be. So he’d been determined to get all their attention. If Lil was wild, he’d be wilder. If Benedict was smart, Josh would be a genius at getting into trouble. And he’d be even more charming than Luke at getting out of it.
While he’d been away, his siblings had relaxed into their roles. Benedict was still a hard-ass, but he was soft with Pilar. Lil was turning her energy into juggling her work and her baby and her husband. And Luke’s smile now had a lived-in feel it didn’t before.
And Josh was supposed to do what? Fall back into his old patterns?
No. No, he wouldn’t do that. But being among them, all of them the same yet not really, made him pull toward his old self. Only a weak tug, but it was there nonetheless. And they were all watching him closely, waiting to see if he’d give in to temptation. Their close appraisal made the struggle that much worse.
Their silent, holding stares were full of waiting—waiting for him to do exactly what they expected and fall back into his old ways. They didn’t think he’d changed or that he could.
At least it seemed that way in his darker moments.
Luke took up a seat next to Josh, wearing a strained smile. Josh really didn’t want to talk with his brother right now—talking with Benedict was tough, considering the cloud of disapproval surrounding their oldest brother, but talking with Luke was somehow worse.
Luke wanted him to be as he had before: jovial, carefree, a prankster. But Josh wouldn’t go too far down that path again. He needed to figure out what it meant to enjoy himself without chaos and alcohol. And he needed some breathing room to figure that out on his own. Luke’s concern was suffocating. Josh only wanted to relax—not to get drunk, but just relax.
“How’s it going?” Luke asked.
“Okay, I guess.” He kept his gaze on his plate. “Thanks again for letting me borrow Rusty. He’s a great horse.”
“It’s my pleasure. I know I haven’t been around enough to exercise him like he needs.”
Speaking of why Luke wasn’t around so much anymore: “Where’s Ana?”
“She’s at the powwow in Morongo this weekend. So I’m all by my lonesome.”
That had been a hell of a surprise, coming home to find Luke shacking up with the girl who’d hated him all throughout high school. Maybe shacking up was the wrong term—he and Ana technically didn’t live together, and for a couple who were so obviously into each other, they spent very little time in each other’s pockets. But it seemed to be working for them.
“I’ve got a favor to ask you,” Luke said with a strange reluctance.
Josh sat a little straighter. “Sure. Whatever you need.”
“Could you watch my dogs for me? They don’t get along with Ana’s dog, and…” His brother’s voice faded into uncharacteristic embarrassment.
So Luke was banishing his dogs for his girlfriend’s dog. Love made people do strange things.
“I’d be happy to,” Josh said. It would give him something to do in the hours when he wasn’t working.
“Thanks.” Luke shifted, his posture easing. “So everything’s going okay then? Do you need anything? All you have to do is ask, you know.”
Josh’s shoulders tightened, pulling up toward his ears. Here it came. “No. I’m fine.” He tried to keep the grit of his irritation out of his tone but didn’t quite succeed.
Luke’s expression flickered with hurt for half a second. “Of course. I was just asking.”
Josh summoned a ghost of a smile. “I know. I appreciate it.” He forced his shoulders down but couldn’t quite bring himself to meet Luke’s gaze.
“You been up to anything besides work?”
Oh, only meeting Leonora Harper in secret. “Nope.”
Guilt tugged hard at his gut even as his skin prickled at the memory of her. It was like having a hook snared in his navel, pulling him toward her even as he dug in his heels and tried to do the right thing.
At first he’d mostly noticed the differences in her: the hair, the scar, the reserved way she held herself. She spoke differently too. Not necessarily slower, but more deliberately, as if each word was consciously chosen.
Then her temper had flared, hot and brief, and he’d seen his Leonora again.
Would she be slow and deliberate at their next meeting? Or would she unwind that temper again?
Since she wanted to know about the crash, he doubted she’d be anything like relaxed. He remembered that night—or most of it—but he didn’t enjoy reviewing those memories, blurred as they were by alcohol and trauma. But if she wanted them, he’d give her what he had.
Luke clapped him on the back, bringing Josh back to reality. “Quiet is good,” his brother said. “I’d like that myself.”
Josh very much doubted that—Luke seemed to enjoy traveling all over for his new consulting business. Then there was Ana and watching out for his reckless kid brother… Yeah, Luke was savoring all the crap on his plate.
“Quiet is good,” Josh said.
“He’s even reading books now.” Lil grinned.
Josh stiffened. If they figured out he’d gone to the library…
“Books?” Luke raised his eyebrows. “Who gave you books?”
“Uh…” Josh searched for a suitable candidate. There weren’t many since he mostly only saw the people around this table with any regularity. “Um, Dan. Dan brought me some books.”
Josh and Dan had been friends before. Josh actually wasn’t even sure what Dan was up to now—he was staying clear of all the people he’d partied with before.
That got Benedict’s attention. “You’re still hanging out with him?”
Josh felt a sudden, vicious urge to poke at Benedict. “What does it matter if I am?”
“He’s trouble, that’s what the matter is. I thought you were trying to clean up.”
Right. As if Benedict had ever exchanged two words with Dan.
Luke’s concern made Josh want to gasp for air, but Benedict’s open contempt made him want to punch back. Not an impulse he’d give in to, but man, was it a strong one.
“I can be clean”—Josh put a mean twist on that since drugs had never been his problem, just alcohol and recklessness—“and still hang out with Dan.”
“Can you?” Benedict shot back. “Don’t think that a month of keeping a job suddenly makes you trustworthy.”
Silence fell, everyone looking at anything but Josh or Benedict.
Well, at least Benedict wasn’t hiding how he really felt even if that made him a total asshole—but his eldest brother had never been afraid of that.
Josh wasn’t afraid of him or his disapproval. In his quest to be a better man, kissing Benedict’s ring wasn’t part of the plan. No one could live up to Benedict’s standards anyway. His brother would probably be happy if Josh went back to his old ways; he loved being proved right.
For half a moment, Josh considered telling Benedict about everything that had happened before the accident. About how he and Leonora had reenrolled in college, about the deposit they’d put on an apartment off campus. About how that time, they were going to do it right and finish school.
But what was the point? Benedict would never believe him, and the crash had smashed all those plans to bits.
Pilar set a hand on Benedict’s shoulder, breaking the tension. “Let’s leave this for after dinner.”
Josh would rather leave it for never. His temper was rising, a hot surge of rage and sharp words and dumb impulsiveness. Bad things happened when he gave in to his temper. Like the time he’d started a fight with Jack Timms just because Jack had bumped into him and spilled his drink on him.
Josh didn’t do things like that anymore. Not that his brother would believe that.
Benedict’s mouth twitched. Clearly he didn’t want to drop it. But all he said was, “He can do whatever he wants. I can’t stop him.”
No, you’ll just fire me and throw me out of the house. But Josh couldn’t complain—those were the terms he’d agreed to.
“Let’s eat,” Lil said with forced brightness.
“It all looks awesome,” Josh said, just as fake as she was. Lil didn’t deserve to have her Sunday dinner ruined by her dickhead brothers. He picked up the breadbasket and passed it to Luke, tamping down the embers of his temper as he did.
Let Benedict pound his chest about who Josh might or might not be associating with. Once Josh had some money saved up for a place of his own and could find a decent job off the ranch, he’d tell Benedict where to shove his judgment. Until then he’d keep his mouth shut. Or at least as shut as he could.
And let the knowledge that he was getting one over on Benedict with his secret meetings with Leonora satisfy him in the meantime.
Tonight was deep conditioner night. Peering at the kitchen counter, Leonora inspected the avocado, banana, honey, and… “Mayo? I really don’t want mayo in my hair.”
The stuff smelled disgusting and tasted worse. While she wouldn’t eat an avocado and a banana together, at least she’d eat them. Mayo was another matter.
“Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it,” Jasmine called from the living room. “It’s supposed to be amazing.”
“If you say so.”
Her sister was always trying some new hair treatment from her favorite YouTube videos. Leonora wasn’t quite as obsessed with it but went along anyway. Even if not everything Jasmine suggested actually improved their hair, the sisterly bonding time was more than worth it.
Jasmine came into the kitchen and, with easy efficiency, started to slice everything and toss it into the blender. She ran a bakery—and made cakes for the casino’s weddings—and she was handy with a knife too.
Before Josh had come back, Jasmine had worked for the Merrills’ ranch and resort, baking cakes for them. But when she’d heard Josh would be working on the ranch, she’d quit. She hadn’t asked Leonora if that’s what she wanted or if Leonora had any feelings on the matter—she’d just gone and done it.
Which was typical of the entire Harper family these days. They just went and did things, things that were meant to be for Leonora’s own good, and all without asking her a damn thing.
“Did you talk to Mama today?” Jasmine asked as the knife slid through the banana.
“What day don’t I talk to her?”
Their mother had called the moment Leonora had come home, the same as she did every day. And then Leonora had talked to her just after dinner. Always the questions were the same: how was she, did she feel sick, how was her vision?
Mama did it because she cared, but sometimes it was all Leonora could do not to scream into the phone. But that was inappropriate irritation. She had no right to be upset with her mother, not when Mama was only concerned for her.
Jasmine sent her a look as sharp as her knife. “You watch it. Don’t be ungrateful. Go get the shower caps,” she ordered just before punching the blender on.
Leonora suppressed her urge to snap back that Jasmine could ask a little more nicely—her sister had become quite the tyrant since they’d moved in together—and went to the bathroom cabinet.
When she came back, Jasmine was queuing up a movie. “How about V for Vendetta?”
Leonora pulled a face. “No, that’s too violent. I want something fun.”
“Archer?”
“No, I want fun but not crass.” Leonora sat on the floor next to the coffee table, eyeing the blender there. The contents were thick and greenish brown, like something Swamp Thing might barf up. This had better be the most amazing hair mask ever, because the color was the worst ever.
Jasmine tossed the remote to her. “Then you choose, Miss Picky.”
Leonora scrolled through the queue, trying to find just the right thing. “The Princess Bride.”
Jasmine groaned. “We watched that last week.”
“And until they add back Beyond the Lights, we’re going to keep watching it.”
Jasmine sighed as she settled onto the floor next to Leonora. As the credits came up and Peter Falk read to little Fred Savage, they smushed goop into their curls. The mayo and banana combined to make the stuff both slick and sticky all at once, and it splooshed through her fingers almost obscenely.
“Is this really supposed to be that amazing?” she asked Jasmine.
“The girls on the video said it would blow you away.”
Leonora bit back a joke about how the texture was making her think of a different kind of blowing. Crude humor was supposedly another sign of her injury.
“You know, if you grew your hair out,” Jasmine said out of nowhere, “you wouldn’t see your scar.”
Leonora huffed at that. “I want everyone to see it. Right off the bat.”
Not to feel sorry for her—nothing like that. But that scar had helped fashion her into the person she was now. She wanted everyone to see and to know.
The scar was ugly but so was what had happened to her. There was a deep gouge in her life between before and after, and the scar was a physical manifestation of that. It was her, the same way her sharp chin, the slight lopsidedness in her upper lip, and the crookedness of her ring finger were all part of her.
If people couldn’t handle seeing her scar, then they definitely wouldn’t be able to handle the rest of her.
But she kept all that to herself. Irrational irritability, the neurologist’s voice echoed in her head. Maybe it was, maybe it wasn’t. Best to keep quiet about all of it though.
She scooped up another handful of goop and purposefully ran it right over her scar. She wasn’t afraid or even reluctant to touch it, and she wished everyone—especially her family—would stop making a big deal about it. If it made them uncomfortable, that was their problem.
“I could give you one of my hair wraps,” Jasmine offered.
Since her sister worked in food prep, she usually wore a scarf over her hair. The wraps were a wildly colorful counterpoint to the T-shirts and jeans that were Jasmine’s work uniform.
It would be easy enough to incorporate hair wraps into her work uniform. Sasha wore them sometimes, so the library wouldn’t hassle her about it. Except: “I like my hair like this. But thanks anyway.”
“If you’re sure.” Jasmine clearly thought her little sister was crazy.
Maybe Leonora was. Her brain kept telling her that her right eye could see—maybe it was also telling her she was perfectly sane when she wasn’t.
During the long months of struggling through rehabilitation, Leonora had learned to navigate the world with the information her brain now gave her. And in the end, she’d accepted that all the world might be an illusion. There was freedom in that, she’d found.
The life-changing magic of not giving a fuck.
That could be the title of her memoir. No doubt it would be a best seller. The library could set it out for National Memoir-Writing Month.
The memory of Josh laughing about National Hispanic Heritage Month flashed through her mind. She touched the tip of her tongue to the corner of her mouth, trying not to linger on how his teeth had flashed as he’d laughed and the crinkles that had deepened around his eyes. She was still angry with him, yes, but alongside that anger was the old attraction come back to life. It sometimes made her dizzy the way those two opposing forces ground against each other when she remembered their meeting.
On screen, the Dread Pirate Roberts was fighting Inigo Montoya. Leonora pushed away the memories and tucked her hair into the shower cap. “How long do we leave this on?”
“A few hours.”
At least the smell wasn’t too bad. And the movie was good, and Leonora really did enjoy these quiet moments with her sister.
“I saw Josh,” Jasmine said very carefully as she tucked her long hair under her cap.
So much for quiet moments.
“Oh yeah? Did you talk to him?” Because I did. Her skin tingled with the remembered thrill of it and the danger of Jasmine finding out.
Seeing Josh had resurrected quite a few things Leonora had thought dead and buried.
“No. I saw him at the grocery store,” Jasmine said. “He looked terrible.”
Leonora frowned. He’d looked different, but she didn’t think he’d looked terrible. “How so?”
“He’s gone gray.”
Leonora had seen that—or rather, she’d seen some gray, not an entire head of it. Compared to the scar carved in her scalp, that was nothing. “Was that all?”
“Well, he’s a lot thinner. And weathered. And he doesn’t smile anymore.” Jasmine said that with a twisted kind of pleasure as if the signs of his suffering cheered her.
Leonora had noticed that Josh didn’t smile as much now. Josh used to smile all the time but not in a goofy way. No, there had been secrets in his smiles. That was what had pulled her in at first. And they’d both been the babies of their families and rebellious… and it had all spun out from there.
“Oh.” Leonora struggled to keep her tone neutral. “I guess five years in prison would have changed him.”
Jasmine’s expression deepened into displeasure. “Not enough if you ask me. He ought to look worse. Have been through worse.”
Leonora stayed quiet. It was an old refrain of both Jasmine’s and Jackson’s—that Josh hadn’t suffered enough for what he’d done. They never seemed to notice that Leonora didn’t join in.
She wasn’t certain what Josh deserved, especially now that she’d seen him again. Maybe she’d have a better idea after their meeting.
Speaking of that meeting: “There’s a staff meeting on Friday from five to six. I’ll need to stay late.” She kept her voice light and her gaze straight ahead. It was a perfectly normal request.
There was a beat before Jasmine answered, a pause where Leonora thought she must have given herself away through some sign she hadn’t been able to see.
“I can’t pick you up after six,” she finally said. “I’ve got a date.”
“What? With who?” Leonora hadn’t known Jasmine had met someone.
“In the valley. You don’t know her.”
“How did you meet?”
“No place you’ve ever been.”
So when Jasmine asked for some secrecy, she expected it, but Leonora had to accept everyone being in her business? Their parents might not have yet figured out that Jasmine wasn’t just “waiting for the right guy”—but they would eventually.
“Okay,” was all Leonora said though. “My lips are sealed.”
If Jasmine did find out Leonora was meeting Josh on the sly, maybe Leonora could use her sister’s secret to buy her silence. But probably not. Jasmine would think Josh presented a bigger threat than Leonora telling their parents on her.
That was a crap impulse, thinking about blackmailing her sister, but Leonora was getting damn tired of her family constraining her every movement. She could survive a little bit more freedom.
“Jackson can probably pick you up,” Jasmine said. “I don’t think he’s doing anything.”
That was not good. If Jackson caught them… Leonora didn’t want to think too hard on what would happen. If her sister caught them, Jasmine would be angry. Really angry, but only angry. Jackson could get physical though.
“Or maybe…” Leonora searched for who’d be an acceptable choice to take her home. “Sasha will be there. She could drive me home.” Again, she kept her voice carefully neutral, totally free of anything that could be heard as scheming. She used to be really good at that—she was having to relearn that skill too.
Sasha was a family friend, which meant she could be trusted driving Leonora home. The fact that Sasha worked at the library was probably the only reason her parents had gone along with Leonora getting a job there. God forbid someone wasn’t keeping an eye on her at all times.
Jasmine made a face. A doubtful face. “Are you sure? Jackson will do it.”
Leonora rolled her eyes at the TV, where her sister couldn’t see. Now Westley and Princess Buttercup had come out of the Fire Swamp, thinking they’d escaped and could live happily ever after… only here came Count Rugen to spoil everything.
“I’m sure he could.” Leonora wrestled the anxiety out of her tone and her expression. “But isn’t it kind of a waste for him to come all the way to the library when Sasha could just bring me home?”
“I guess.” Jasmine’s voice was thickly grudging.
“I don’t want to put you to out any more than I have to.” Leonora made that sweetly pleading.
Next to her, she felt Jasmine’s posture soften. “It’s no trouble taking care of you. You know that, right?”
Take care of her. As if she were an infant who couldn’t care for herself. All right, so maybe she couldn’t drive, but there were lots of people in this world who couldn’t drive, and they all did just fine. She had a job—a job that paid a living wage—and could care for and support herself. Yeah, her brain didn’t work quite as it used to, but it worked well enough to get her through life. To get her independently through life.
Too bad no one in her family seemed to have ever realized this. They treated her exactly the same as they had that morning when she woke up in the hospital.
Well, she could decide for herself if she wanted to see Josh. It was none of Jackson’s business, and it was none of Jasmine’s business—it was her business and hers alone.
“You guys say it’s no trouble to take care of me,” Leonora said, “but I know that it is. Sasha can take me home and give you guys a break.”
She said that with conversation-ending firmness. She would take this chance for the first time in five years to make a decision all her own.
Even if it was a decision to meet up with the man who’d done this to her.