The arms tightened. ‘It’s so good to see you, honey.’
In no time, she found herself packed into the front passenger seat of her dad’s blue Ford Escape, though Zach-long-legs should have been awarded that prime spot. Zach tugged her ponytail and said, ‘Did you get to see many castles, Honor?’ Andeveryone talked about England and history and Honor’s trip, lightly, neutrally. Nobody mentioned Stef or jail or the way that Honor had taken off without a word.
Next thing, they were drawing up outside the double garage doors at her father’s house and Honor realised that somewhere, as the Escape rolled soporifically along route 7, her eyes had closed. She’d zoned out of the family conversation, missed the sunlit lake flickering through the trees and missed driving through her home town and seeing the mall and the church and all the places that she’d known since she was a child. Already, Zach was dragging out her cases while Garvin put his arm around her and steered her indoors.
In the large, well-remembered kitchen, Honor stood still, just letting home flood into her. A tall woman was waiting, smile at the ready. ‘Karen! How are you?’ Guiltily, Honor realised that she hadn’t asked after Karen on the whole trip north from the airport.
Karen gave her a hug. ‘Hi, Honor. Welcome home.’ And, miraculously, she didn’t give out any lectures. Karen might have a certain ‘my way or the highway’ aspect to her personality, but at least she wasn’t asking why Honor had run home. Like, had she done anything stupid. Like falling in love with someone when you weren’t completely free to. Like messing up that person’s life. She just glanced at Garvin with something like relief.
In an instant, Honor saw not a partisan mom — or not only a partisan mom — but a woman who had taken on someone else’s kid, a kid who had never hesitated to remind her that she wasn’t her real mom, even though she was the woman who had made Honor’s dad happy.
She felt a twinge of shame. ‘It’s good to see you, Karen. I guess I’m imposing on you—’
‘Not on family,’ said Karen, simply. ‘I got your room ready for however long you want to stay.’
That’s when Honor began to cry.
Jessamine dragged her into her arms. ‘Do you want to talk about it?’
Wildly, Honor shook her head.
Garvin: ‘You maybe ought to, honey.’
Zach: ‘Can any of us do anything to help?’
Honor gulped. ‘No-o-oo.’ But their sympathy and love made her cry harder, blubbing great sobs around sentence fragments. ‘Ru won’t know I’ve gone . . . I feel so bad about him.’
‘Is Ru a guy you hooked up with?’ asked Jessamine, so obviously trying her hardest to understand.
‘Nooooo,’ howled Honor, laying her head on Jessie’s shoulder. ‘My bro-oth-ther. Rufus Gordon.’
‘Oh, yeah, Rufus the brother,’ breathed Zach.
Jessamine patted Honor’s back. ‘Oh no, another brother! No wonder you’re upset.’
‘This must seem really weird to you two,’ Honor hiccupped. ‘But he’s fourteen and Robina isn’t the ideal mom. I got to really love him.’
‘It’s only a little bit weird,’ soothed Jessamine. ‘We know what a good big sister you are.’
Honor unwound from around poor Jessie, who must be feeling hot and damp, and took a deep breath. ‘I have to find Stef.’ She ignored the exchange of dubious glances around the table. ‘Dad, do you know if he’s staying with Will?’
‘I guess he is. Should I call Will and check?’
Honor rubbed her eyes. ‘No, I’ll just go on over. There’s no telling what he’ll do if he gets advance notice I’m going to show up.’
* * *
She borrowed her dad’s car, even though she knew by that spaced-out, distant, grit-eyed feeling that she was way too exhausted to drive. Her dad knew it, too, because he’d said, ‘I’ll drive you when you’re ready.’ But she waited until he was on the phone and slipped his keys off the row of hooks in the kitchen and sneaked out.
Now she thought that maybe she ought to have sneaked Jessamine or Zach out to drive for her, too, because driving when she was too tired to think straight couldn’t be good.
Luckily, Will’s house wasn’t far — what was far, in Hamilton Drives? — and so she wasn’t a public menace for more than a few minutes. And, whaddya know, there was Stef, sitting on the porch on the swing seat, eating ice cream with one hand and tapping away on his laptop with the other, looking up with a crooked grin as she barrelled into the drive and as close as she could get to the porch without running over the flower beds.
She put the car in park and jumped down.
‘Hey, babe,’ Stef called, cautiously, as if weighing up her mood.
Set-faced, she marched up and glared down at him. ‘Put them back.’
