It was bittersweet, watching this picture of domestic bliss. The Blackwells weren’t anything like she’d expected. In her mind, they were alien folk, larger than life, with narrow minds, who held themselves above the normal people of the world. But that wasn’t the case. They were as imperfect and messy as anyone, but they loved and respected and had each other’s backs. They were a family, and it pained her to watch them.
It pained her to know she could have been a part of this, if only…
“Incredible, isn’t it?” Regan joined her in the kitchen, and Honey shook off the dark thoughts crowding her mind. Honey had taken an instant liking to Wyatt’s wife. The young doctor was open and friendly, and she had a wicked sense of humor. Actually, all the women in the Blackwell boys’ lives were likable. She supposed that said something about their men.
“What’s that?” Honey asked, reaching for a cracker even though she wasn’t hungry. The need to move and do something about the restless heart beating away inside was hard to ignore. How many times had she’d envisioned destroying the people ten feet from her?
“The genes in this family.”
Honey followed Regan’s gaze and settled on the m
en.
“They’re genetically blessed, that’s for sure. Do you know what we called them growing up?”
Honey shook her head.
“The Blackwell Babes. The Unholy Threesome. The Sexy-ass—”
“I get the picture,” Honey said.
Regan giggled. “It’s hard not to.” She leaned forward and grabbed some cheese. “I always thought Wyatt was hot, you know, even though he was so full of himself. Those boys broke a lot of hearts, that’s for sure. But Nash was king of the heartbreakers. God, I had a such crush on him. He’s got something extra…” The woman frowned. “I don’t know. Like a sharp edge that you’re afraid to cut yourself on, but then you want to get close to it.” The woman laughed. “God, that’s a bad analogy.”
“No,” Honey replied, her gaze now on Nash. “I know what you mean.”
Regan picked at the sharp cheddar on the plate. “He’s different with you.”
Honey looked at the woman, cracker held in midair. Did she want to know? She shrugged and tried to play it cool. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t know exactly. He just seems different. Like he’s finally where he’s supposed to be. I think you have a lot to do with that.” At the look on Honey’s face, Regan laughed. “Jesus, sorry. I don’t want to scare you away or anything. Don’t listen to me.”
“No. It’s fine.” Honey smiled, but inside, that heart of hers beat faster and harder. This conversation was making her uncomfortable. But it was the reason behind it, that was the sucker she didn’t want to think about. Because if she were honest with herself, she’d have to admit that she was starting to feel the same way. As if she was where she was supposed to be.
And that could never work. After she did the thing she’d come here to do, she’d be leaving town, and not one person in this room would want to have anything to do with her. Not even Nash.
“Where’s the bathroom?” she asked, desperate for some quiet.
Regan pointed down a hallway on the other side of the room. “There’s a powder room on the right.”
Honey hurried toward the peace and quiet she craved and quickly found the bathroom. She closed the door and leaned against it, hand on her chest as she tried to calm down. Why was she so afraid? Where the hell had her backbone gone? Why was she playing this game? Why not get it the hell over and move on? Simone was waiting for her. Honey had plans. Plans that didn’t include winter in Michigan. Plans that didn’t include the Blackwells or Nash Booker.
Plans that didn’t include falling in love.
Wait. What? Her eyes flew open. She caught sight of herself in the mirror above the sink, and her heart sank. She was dangerously close to losing it. To losing herself. How in hell had she let that happen?
Honey ran to the sink and turned on the tap. She splashed ice-cold water on her face and worked hard to get her breathing back to normal. She remembered a time when she was four or five and their water had been turned off. She’d had to go to the neighbors to shower. To wash up or have a drink. Even as young as she was, the humiliation of her circumstance was a cross she’d had to bear. The looks from those in her community. The whispers behind her back.
Poor little girl. Her mother’s a junkie. A whore.
As Honey stared down at her hands, something bloomed in her chest. Something hot and fierce and angry. Calmly, she turned off the water and slipped out of the bathroom. She was about to join the others in the great room, but the door across from her was open, and a light illuminated what had to be John Blackwell’s office. She heard the game, the cheers and groans, and, with a furtive look over her shoulder, walked into the room.
Furnished in deep cherry, with hardwood, plush chairs, and a big window overlooking the yard, the space looked every bit an executive’s office. The huge desk was sparsely covered, save for a desktop monitor, an old-school Rolodex, and a phone. The wall to the left held many plaques and awards—some for John’s philanthropy, some for business—and there were several with the boys’ names etched onto them, mainly sports and academics, though there were a few that acknowledged volunteer work. The Blackwell brothers were definitely well rounded in all the ways that mattered.
Honey, on the other hand, had many talents. She could pick a pocket, cheat at cards, and hotwire a car like no one’s business. But they didn’t give out awards for those things, other than the back of a cop car and time in jail.
She moved on, her hand trailing across the large desk as she walked toward a plethora of family pictures. They took up the entirety of the wall behind the desk, and as she studied them, she realized that John Blackwell wasn’t at all the man she thought he was. This was no coldhearted son of a bitch, but a kind, generous man who gave to his community and obviously loved his wife and boys.
There were photos of a young John with a baby—Honey wasn’t sure which son—as well as many of him with the beautiful woman who was his wife. Angel Blackwell. He looked at the woman as if she were his reason for living, and it made Honey wonder how a man who looked at a woman like that could cheat on her. How could he break such a sacred vow and the trust that went along with it for a woman like her mother?