Southern Sinner (North Carolina Highlands 3)

“I’d say I’m a close second,” Hank replies with a grin.

“I guess I just . . .” Oh shit, here come the tears in earnest now. “I adore him, and I adore y’all, and I sincerely hope you’ll forgive us so we can be a part of your big, beautiful family. There are few things I’ve ever wanted more than that.”

It happens like dominoes. First, June bursts into tears, then Annabel. Then Emma and Rhett—yep, snotty nose and all—and even Beau and Samuel share a sniffle or two.

My vision swims, but I’m still able to accept hugs from June and Beau. Hank rubs my back when I sit back down, gratitude written all over his face—bright eyes, small smile.

One notable absence from the love fest: Milly. She stays glued to her chair, her expression unreadable.

“So,” Samuel says, crossing his arms as his gaze locks on mine. “Hank is that good, huh?”

I roll my lips between my teeth and nod. “He’s that freaking good. So please, for the love of God, stop torturing each other and forgive your people.”

“I’m game,” Hank says. “I’m a changed man, y’all, and if you still don’t believe me, I’mma do my best to prove it. You have my word.”

Samuel looks at Hank. Hank looks at Samuel. Samuel looks at Beau and then Milly and Rhett.

My heart is liable to beat itself out of my chest. Breathe. I have to remember to keep breathing. Hank and I have laid out our argument; we’ve bared our hearts. Whatever happens next is out of our hands.

I don’t know what I’ll do if Hank’s heart gets broken again. Mine will break right along with it.

Just when I’m about to come out of my skin, all four of Hank’s siblings turn their gazes on him. It’s a master class in silent communication, and I’m impressed, frankly, by their ability to pull it off without a hitch.

They’re close. It’s sweet. And downright frightening when you’re staring down the barrel of their wrath—or their absolution.

Milly lets out a breath, elbows coming down on the table with a thump as though she’s finally put down her sword and is surrendering to the exhaustion of wielding it.

“Of course we forgive you.” Her eyes move to mine. “Same goes for you, Stevie. We’re not thrilled about the shit you two pulled. But we’re a family, a family that’s been to hell and back.” She glances at Beau. “If we didn’t give each other second chances, and third chances, and fourth and fifth and eighty-seventh ones, where the hell would we be?”

“In the ground,” Beau says definitively.

Hank startles. “Jesus, that’s bleak.”

“It’s true. Y’all know how close I came. But I had my family to fall back on.” He looks meaningfully at Bel. “And my girl.”

“I don’t know where I’d be,” Samuel adds. “It wouldn’t be anywhere good, though.”

Rhett nods. “I’d be in way more trouble, that’s for damn sure.”

“Don’t call the devil, son,” June says.

“I’d probably be just as successful as I am now,” Milly says, and immediately everyone boos. Samuel goes so far as to toss a balled-up napkin at her. She catches it, laughing. “I mean it. I love y’all dearly, but I’m really fucking good at what I do. That being said, I’d be way less happy—way less aggravated too, but that’s neither here nor there—if I didn’t get to see my family every day. Especially now that I have two—no, three—sisters.”

She blinks, hard. No tears. But maybe that’s Milly’s way of showing a softer emotion.

“Wow,” Hank breathes.

“Milly, thank you for that,” I say. “Thank all y’all. It’s an honor to sit at this table.”

Hank stands and extends his hand to Samuel. “It’s an honor to be your brother.”

Samuel studies Hank’s hand for a long beat. Then he stands too, and instead of shaking his brother’s hand, Samuel walks around the table and wraps Hank in a hug, pounding his back as he murmurs something in Hank’s ear.

Suddenly everyone’s standing, and everyone’s hugging, and the room fills with happy noise—laughter, a curse. The sound of a cork popping, because of course Emma has some undoubtedly delicious bubbly hidden within arm’s reach.

Milly, being Milly, is the last to offer me a hug. But when she does, she embraces me fiercely. It’s not a threat. It’s an admission. As much as I’ll probably ever get from her.

It’s enough, especially when she whispers in my ear, “If Hank adores you, so do I. Thank you for making him smile.”

“Thank you for helping raise such a stand-up human being.”

Emma pours champagne, and we stand around Milly’s kitchen drinking, the tension that permeated the air half an hour ago long gone.

“Wedding is still on, right?” Hank asks, tipping back his flute.

Swallowing, Emma nods, wearing a sly smile on her lips. “That’s the real reason we forgave you. Samuel and I already put down a deposit on the band.”