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“Sure you are,” she said with a laugh. Then she gave Patience a big hug and went inside.

* * *

“This motel looks amazing,” Kelsey said as she stood in the parking lot, gazing up at the buildings.

Kanon was still wearing the tool belt he’d had on all day—and yesterday, too. He’d fixed, painted and cleaned everything he could—had worked so many hours his muscles ached. But the festival started on Thursday. He didn’t have a lot of time to get ready. “You think so?”

He was such a perfectionist that he could see so many things he still wanted to accomplish. But the motel was old. There would always be something to fix or replace. And it was late. He needed to get some sleep before tackling anything else.

“It’s like an entirely new place!” she exclaimed. “Before, it had this sort of sad, wilting air about it. I just couldn’t keep up, was drowning in bills and work, and it showed. But now it’s fresh and vibrant again. Mom would be so proud.”

“Your mother loved this place,” he said, feeling a sense of accomplishment.

“It was all she ever had that was her own,” she commented.

“Why would she want to share it with my father?” It wasn’t as if Frankie had been able to contribute anything. Kanon had always wondered what she’d seen in him.

“Because she loved him,” Kelsey said simply. “And he helped out a lot—once he sobered up.”

Kanon tried to block the bad memories that threatened. “I’m glad he was willing to sober up for her. He certainly wouldn’t do it for me.”

“He wished he could have.” She shot him an uncertain glance. They hadn’t spoken of their parents. So far, their conversations had been very utilitarian—all about where he would stay, what he would do to help with running the business, how they would accomplish various goals with the motel. After all, they’d essentially been strangers when he got here. But he knew he wouldn’t be able to avoid more personal conversations as the days passed and they grew more comfortable with each other.

“He talked about you quite a bit there at the end,” she volunteered.

Kanon raised one of his gloved hands. “I don’t want to hear it.” He’d finally made peace with the fact that he’d never feel good about his father, never be able to feel like Frankie had ever cared about him. He’d had to accept the harsh truth as he saw it and move on—to survive—and he didn’t care to dredge up those old feelings.

“Life can be complicated,” she muttered.

He wanted to say, “And cruel,” but he bit his tongue. She’d had a mother who loved her. There was no way she could fully understand what he was talking about.

It was getting colder by the minute, but he could tell she had more to say when she didn’t go back to the office. Instead, she folded her arms and sank deeper into her puffy coat. “Did my mother stay in touch with you over the years?”

“I received a letter from her here and there,” he said. “Nothing steady.”

“Because you didn’t respond?”

“Probably.” He couldn’t allow himself to be caught in the same net he’d been caught in so many times before, where he’d been promised his father would keep his act together, for a change, and never could. But it wasn’t any use explaining what that did to a kid. The past was the past. There was nothing to be gained by rehashing it.

“At first…” She cleared her throat and tried again. “At first, I admit I was hurt to think my mother would give you half my inheritance.”

She shot him a guilty glance, but he wasn’t offended. “I don’t blame you. Anyone would feel that way.”

Fresh snow was beginning to fall. She lifted her hood to protect her head. “But now… I understand.”

He opened and closed his hands, stretching his fingers to keep them from growing stiff after all he’d done in the past forty-eight hours. “Then maybe you can explain it to me.”

“I think she wanted us to find each other—become real siblings.”

He didn’t know how to react to that. He liked Kelsey. She’d been decent to him—far more so than most people would’ve been, considering the situation. He enjoyed working with her, too. She did her part, listened to his opinion instead of stubbornly holding fast to her own even if he had a better idea, and reacted rationally and cooperatively if she thought he made a good point. But calling anyone “family” was impossible for him. He was too used to being without one, didn’t want to set himself up for the kind of disappointment he’d experienced before. “I think she was looking out for you, wanted to make sure you’d have some help and support.”

“I’m sure she saw that as a potential benefit, but…don’t you think she did it for you, too? To give you something that could help you create a stable future?”

He’d considered that but ultimately rejected it. That kind of caring was more like what a real mother would do—well, not his mother, of course. She’d abandoned him to get away from Frankie and then lost herself to drugs. But most mothers. “Since she didn’t make it clear, I guess we’ll never know.”

Kelsey seemed disappointed that he didn’t react more positively. In so many words, she’d just let him know she was willing to become more than a partner on the motel—that she wanted to connect as siblings. But he couldn’t let her get too close. He couldn’t let Patience get too close, either, which was why he’d been trying hard not to think of her since Saturday.

Love—of any kind—was far too thorny.