“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.”