Accidentally Family (Pecan Valley 1)

“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.

Chapter Eleven

Graham held the embroidered throw pillow on his lap, his fingers running along the piped edge over and over. The simple repetitive act was oddly soothing. Not enough to shake the sense of impending doom that kicked in once he’d pried open Diana’s bedroom door. Just soothing enough to keep him from yelling. Or throwing things. Or sobbing uncontrollably. None of those things would help, and he needed h

elp, desperately.

Adelaide waited, pen poised, glancing back and forth between them. The room seemed smaller than when they’d arrived. The couch creaked loudly every time he shifted. He sat, rigid, fingers worrying the stupid pillow. Only the soft recording of rhythmic waves and the regular tick of the second hand of the wall clock broke the silence.

“Diana?” Adelaide’s voice was neutral.

Diana continued to peel the black polish from her nails, sweeping the bits from her shredded tights onto the polished concrete floor.

She had her nail polish. He had the stupid pillow. Neither of them was talking but they both had so much to say.

“After your father’s call this morning, I thought you might want to talk,” Adelaide prompted. “Is there anything in particular you’d like to discuss?”

Diana didn’t look up or say a word—just kept picking away. He shoved the pillow between his side and the arm of the love seat, pressing his hands flat against his thighs.

“He mentioned you spent the night away from home?” Adelaide continued.

Diana’s left hand was now polish-free, so she set to work on her right hand.

“We’re both concerned about that. Where did you go, Diana? Were you safe?”

Worried, yes. And pissed as hell. Last night had been the worst of his life. Nothing compared to not knowing where she was or what might be happening to her. Did she need help? Was she hurt? Hurting herself? Lost? Alone? Every nightmare scenario imaginable played through his mind until he was frantic.

But beyond the worry and pain and helplessness, he was furious. So furious he’d put his fist through the drywall. After driving the streets of Pecan Valley most of the night, he’d prayed he’d come home and find her waiting. Instead, he’d come home to an empty house. The handful of her friends he knew of had no idea where she was, or that was what they told him. When he’d exhausted all of his options, he’d called the police, his bloodied fist submerged in a sink full of ice, when she’d walked in the front door.

She hadn’t stopped, even when he’d called to her. She’d headed up the stairs and into her bathroom—no door slamming or screaming, tears or hostility. Her silence had broken him. While she was in the shower, he slumped over in relief—doing his best not to cry like a baby.

She still hadn’t said a word. And he’d been so uncertain of what to do next, he’d called for backup. He’d expected her to push back when he told her they were going to see Adelaide. She hadn’t. The drive had been as silent as the session so far.