Her gaze flickered from my eyes to my mouth. “Okay.”

The urge to capture her mouth and taste the sweetness that was unique to her was hard to resist, but I did. Turning, I opened the door and was met with the scent of apple. My stomach grumbled. That better be pie I was smelling.

I led a wide-eyed Avery between the pool tables and the air-hockey table to the stairs. Her gaze darted everywhere, not missing a single thing. I found myself hoping that she liked what she saw, which was weird, because none of this was mine.

“This is the man cave,” I told her, guiding her to the stairs. “Dad spends a lot of time down here. There’s the poker table he kicked my ass on.”

A small smile pulled at her lips. “I like it down here.”

“So do I.” I hesitated at the bottom of the steps. “Mom and Dad are probably upstairs. . . .”

She nodded as she pulled away, silently following me up the stairs and through the living room. Magazines were scattered across the coffee table. Meaning that Teresa had had friends over at some point.

“Living room,” I said, going through an archway. “And this is the second living room or some room that no one sits in. Maybe it’s a sitting room? Who knows? And this is the formal dining room that we never use but have—”

“We do too use the dining room!” shouted Mom. “Maybe once or twice a year, when we have company.”

“And break the ‘good dishes’ out,” I said, glancing down at Avery.

She came to a complete stop at the end of the coffee table, her face paling. I turned, wanting to make this easier for her, but not sure how, and then Mom strolled into the room, smoothing a strand of hair back into her ponytail.

Mom made a beeline for me, catching me in a hug before I could move. “I don’t even know where the ‘good dishes’ are, Cameron.”

I laughed. “Wherever they are, they’re probably hiding from the paper plates.”

Mom laughed as she pulled back, holding on to my shoulders. “Good to have you home. Your father is starting to get on my nerves with all his ‘going hunting’ talk.” Her gaze drifted to Avery and her smile widened. “And this must be Avery?”

“Oh God no,” I said. “This is Candy, Mom.”

Color spread across her cheeks as she stepped back, dropping her arms. “Uh, I’m . . .”

“I’m Avery,” Shortcake said, shooting me a withering look that made me want to kiss her. “You had it right.”

Mom spun, smacking me across the arm. My skin stung. “Cameron! Oh my God, I thought . . .” She smacked me again, and I laughed. “You’re terrible.” Shaking her head, she turned back to Avery. “You must be a patient young lady to have survived a trip here with this idiot.”

Shortcake blinked and then a laugh burst from her. Of course, she laughed at that. “It wasn’t that bad.”

“Oh.” Mom looked over her shoulder at me. “And she’s well mannered. It’s okay. I know my son is a . . . handful. By the way, you can call me Dani. Everyone does.”

Mom hugged Shortcake before the poor girl could even see it coming, and I don’t know why, but seeing those two together did something weird to my chest. My heart started to pound when Avery seemed to unstiffen, wrapping her arms around my mom.

“Thank you for letting me come up,” Shortcake said.

“It’s no problem. We love having the company. Come on, let’s go meet the guy who thinks he’s my better half. And dear God, I apologize ahead of time if he starts talking to you about how many eight-point bucks he’s planning to hunt this weekend.”

I watched as Mom took over, guiding Shortcake through the house, and my heart still hadn’t stopped pounding like a hammer to a stubborn nail.

Shortcake looked over her shoulder, her gaze finding mine, and she smiled as our eyes met. I winked and . . .

And her smile widened.

Seventeen

Watching Avery with my sister was painful at first. Shortcake was almost unbearably shy and my sister, God love her, had to lead her through almost every conversation, gently pulling her in. But eventually she relaxed, talking to Teresa about dance, and she even volunteered to help my sister get the sides ready for dinner.

The moment Dad and I were alone, he turned to me in the recliner, smiling slightly. “She’s a good girl, Cameron.”

“I know.”

“I mean, she’s a really good girl.”

I glanced at him, brows raised. “I know.”

Dad watched me closely, that strange smile still playing over his lips. “Did she ever go out on a date with you?”

My lips twitched. “What do you think?”

“I think I know the answer.” Dad tipped his head back. “Are you two seeing each other?”

“No. I told you and Mom the truth. She’s not my girlfriend.” I paused, thinking about the conversation I’d overheard this morning between Mom and Avery. I would be bringing her home for Christmas and she would be my girlfriend by then. “Yet.”

Dad looked like he was about to laugh but didn’t. Opening his eyes, he turned his head and looked me dead-on. “Have you told her about what happened?”

Muscles in my stomach clenched. I knew what he was talking about, but didn’t answer.

Dad sighed. “Boy, you know how I feel about what happened. Was it necessarily the right thing to do? No. But if you hadn’t done it, I would have. But you need to tell her if you’re serious about her. Secrets are . . . well, sometimes they are necessary and sometimes they kill things before they have a chance to grow. You get what I’m saying?”

I found myself nodding, but as my gaze drifted to where Avery and my sister had disappeared from, I felt knots of unease twist in my stomach. I knew I wasn’t the only one with secrets.


I was ten seconds from grabbing my sister’s cell phone and throwing it across the room during Thanksgiving dinner. I dumped another mound of yams on my plate. “Who do you keep texting?”

Teresa smirked. “That’s none of your business.”

I arched a brow. “I’m your brother, it’s my business. Mom . . .” I paused, looking across the table. “You should tell your daughter it’s rude to text at the table.”

Mom sent me a dry look. “It’s not hurting anyone.”

Well, that was no help. I nudged Shortcake with my knee, and not for the first time. “It’s hurting my soul,” I murmured to her.

Avery rolled her eyes as she knocked my leg back.

“That’s sad.” Teresa dropped the phone in her lap. “So, Avery, how did you end up in West Virginia?”

She whipped her spoon through the mashed potatoes. “I wanted to go someplace different. My family is originally from Ohio, so West Virginia seemed like a good place to go.”

“I have to be honest, I would’ve picked New York or Florida or Virginia or Maryland or—” She looked down when her phone chirped and grabbed her cell.

My eyes narrowed as I knocked Avery’s knee. Curious as to who my sister could be chatting with, I acted like I was grabbing for turkey, but went for the phone instead.

“Hey!” Teresa shouted. “Give it back!”

Avoiding her grabby hands, I leaned over into Avery as my gaze flicked to the screen. Murphy? What the fuck? “Who’s Murphy?”

“It’s none of your business! God.” Teresa grabbed for the cell. “Give me back my phone.”

“I’ll give it back when you tell me who Murphy is? A boyfriend?”

The red cheeks were enough of an answer. Granted, I didn’t expect my sister to stay single forever, but she hadn’t been serious since that dickhead.

She slammed her back into her seat, folding her arms. “Mom.”

“Cam, give her back the phone,” she ordered, and when I didn’t budge, her smile tightened in the way that was rare for her. “We’ve met Murphy. He’s a really good boy.”

I was pretty sure that was what everyone had said about the dickhead.

“He’s really nice and I like him,” Teresa said quietly.

I snorted. “That’s not a ringing—”

“He’s not Jeremy,” Dad cut in. “Give her back the phone.”

Avery had been staring at her plate and when her hand landed on my upper thigh, I suddenly wasn’t thinking about Jeremy the Dickhead or Teresa’s phone.

Her hand was on my thigh, so close to where I wanted it to be, and in that moment, call me what you want, I didn’t give a fuck that it was Thanksgiving dinner. If she just slid her hand up a—

Avery snatched the cell phone from my hands.

Son of a bitch. “Hey, that was so not fair.”

She grinned at me as she stretched around me, handing the phone back to Teresa. “Sorry.”

“Thank you,” she said, smiling at Shortcake like she was the messiah of cell phones.

I shot her a very promising look before I twisted toward Teresa. “I want to meet this Murphy.”

My sister sighed but relented. “Okay. Let me know when.”

I had no idea what Shortcake thought about this and it wasn’t until after the conversation picked back up that I knew this whole situation had to be weird to her. I thought about what Dad said about secrets and there had been plenty of moments today to bring it up, but none of them had seemed right.

How do you explain to a girl that it took months to get out on a date that you beat a teenager into a coma? That wasn’t something you brought up over dinner.

But Dad had been right. I needed to tell her.

I had to.


When I left my bedroom that night to go to Avery’s, I had every intention of talking to her. I felt like I did when I used to play soccer, right before a game started and my stomach was located somewhere between my knees and ass.

Shutting my bedroom door behind me as quiet as a goddamn mouse on Christmas Eve, I jumped a good foot when I heard my name.