“All right, all right, I get it.” But he wasn’t going to agree with her. He couldn’t quite force himself to speak about Rory like that. When the hell had that happened? He’d been there through all of Rory’s holier-than-thou, older sister bullshit. The bossing and the tattling and the smug grins whenever he, Nat, and Asher had gotten into deep shit with Mayor Haven for whatever crazy idea they’d concocted that particular week.
But Nat hadn’t been home for more than two days at a stretch in a long time—seven years, to be exact. Since the afternoon of high school graduation. The one he’d been in the audience of instead of the procession for because of some misplaced notion that dropping out with mere months left would get his old man’s attention.
“I’m not sure you do,” she said. “We are talkin’ about the same person who—”
“Hey, Nat, when you comin’ home again?”
That shut her up, just like he knew it would. Nat was allergic to Havenbrook, had flown the coop the moment she’d been able to. And while Asher hadn’t gone quite as far as the corners of the earth like Nat, he, too, was off. Living his best life in Tennessee, which left only Nash holding down the fort in Havenbrook. He tried really damn hard not to envy his best friends for following their dreams. No reason he should, especially when Nashwas following his own.
Since the moment he’d held his first hammer, he’d wanted to work with his hands, build things that would withstand the test of time…things that’d be standing long after he was gone. Whether that was buildings or houses or custom-made furniture, he didn’t care. It was how he’d leave his mark on the world.
And now that future was being threatened. That meant Nash would grasp on to everything that set him apart from the competition, even if that was going against his better judgment and working with the woman who’d single-handedly starred in all of his wet dreams.
“Well played,” Nat said instead of answering his question.
“Hey, I gotta run.” Nash pulled to a stop in front of Rory’s house, shifting his truck into park. “Much as I’d love to listen to you yell at me some more.”
“Yeah, I’ll bet. Be careful of her pitchfork. I hear it’s sharp.” She hung up without another word.
With a snort, Nash pocketed his phone, pulled his tool belt off the passenger’s seat, and slipped out of his truck. He buckled the belt into place as he strolled up the front path and climbed the first step.
“It’s notfair!” a voice yelled from inside the house. One of Rory’s girls—he wasn’t sure which.
The front door was open, the mangled screen door the only thing giving the illusion of privacy.
“I’m sorry, Ava, but you’ve got camp today. Same as every other weekday this summer. You’re the one who wanted to go to this, remember? Begged and pleaded with me to let you. And now you’re actin’ like I’m ruinin’ your life by makin’ you go.”
“Youare! You’re just doin’ this ’cause it’s Kelsey’s house I wanna go to. Miss Sarah Beth already said I could come over! If it was anyone else, you’d let me.”
Nash hadn’t been around a whole lot of tweens—or kids in general. None of his friends had any. Hell, none of his friends were even in semi-serious relationships, his two closest globe-trotting and dream-seeking. He didn’t know the protocol for walking in on a screaming match between a parent and child, so he decided not to. Instead, he hung out on the porch, crouching down and making note of the boards that’d need to be replaced to make this sturdy again, all the while pretending he couldn’t hear a thing.
“Ava Caroline, that’s enough of your smart mouth,” Rory snapped, her relatively calm demeanor finally cracking. “You know better than to back-talk me, isn’t that right?”
The “Yes, ma’am,” that came in response sounded like it had been pried straight from the little girl’s voice box.
“Good. Now, Mimi’ll be here in a minute to pick y’all up. Go grab your things and tell your sister to come out.”
Ava grumbled something as she stomped off, the sound of her feet pounding on the floors easily carrying through the screen door.
“What was that?” Rory called.
“Yes, ma’am.” Ava said the two words with as much disdain as one would sayyou bitch.
Was it safe now? He had no idea. He wasn’t sure if this was like a nuclear blast, when the aftermath was just as bad as the detonation itself. Fortunately, tires crunched out front just in time to save him from having to figure out his next move.
Caroline Haven, Rory’s momma, pulled her pristine car to a stop and then stepped out, looking for all the world like she was walking out of the pages of a magazine and not onto the dirt road in front of a ramshackle house. She wore pure white—something he didn’t think was entirely smart considering all the dirt surrounding her—but he’d be damned if she didn’t stay clean as a whistle. Her dark, gray-streaked hair was pulled back in some sort of a twist, and the smile she shot him was much warmer than her demeanor would suggest.
“Well, Nash King. If this isn’t a pleasant surprise.” She climbed the steps and greeted him with a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “What’re you doin’ here?”
He returned her hug with a smile. She’d been the closest thing he’d ever had to a momma—sad as that truth was—and he’d soaked up every bit of her attention he could get when he and Nat had been kids. “Hey, Miss Caroline. I’m just—”
“Momma? Who’re you—” Rory popped her head out the front door, eyes widening when she saw him. “Oh. Nash. I didn’t realize you were here already.” She scrutinized him, no doubt wondering how much—if any—of the fight he’d heard.
“Just got here,” he said. “Takin’ stock of how many pieces I’ll need to replace to make sure this porch doesn’t threaten to collapse when you walk on it.”
“You’re helpin’ Rory?” Caroline asked, a genuine smile curving her mouth. “That’s just wonderful! I was worried about her doin’ it all on her own, you know.”
Rory stepped out onto the porch and crossed her arms. Through a strained smile, she said, “I’d have no problem doin’ it on my own, Momma.”
