by Lori Foster
When he’s gone. Honor squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. “I can’t.”
“Read his letter and you’ll see that it’s not about what you want. It’s about what he wants.” Holding out the envelope, Neil emphasized again: “Hugh knew you would respect his wishes.”
Reluctantly Honor took the envelope from him. She’d expected a packet of papers, but it seemed only one sheet might be inside. “It feels...thin.”
“That’s our Hugh, short and to the point.” Neil offered his hand. “Should you ever need me, for any reason, my card is also included. Anything at all, please let me know.”
Both she and Jason shook his hand.
Celeste stuck her head in the door, looked at each of them, then asked Neil, “Is it done?”
“I told her, but she hasn’t yet read the letter.”
Celeste said something to the others before stepping inside and pulling the door closed behind her, keeping a hand on the knob. “Well, now.” She studied Honor critically. “You’re still upright.”
Urgently apologetic, Honor said, “I never—”
Celeste waved that away. “I love my brother, Honor. We’ve had our differences as all siblings do, though being an only child you might not have understood that. With all his faults, and all of my own, we were still brother and sister. Nothing would change that, not even disagreements over you or your reprobate parents.”
Reassured, Honor nodded. “I’m glad.”
“Of course you are.” She held tight to the door when someone tried to open it. “You know, I always hoped you’d get some gumption to you. That you’d stand up and curse your terrible parents, because they were terrible and you deserved better. I wanted to see you cast some blame.” She lifted a fist. “I wanted you to grasp what was yours. But you never had that fire.”
“She has fire,” Jason said, his voice tight.
Honor patted his hand on her shoulder. She didn’t understand any of this, especially why Celeste was suddenly so different. She was usually all blame, without explanation or clarification. But now it seemed that she wanted Honor to understand. “Aunt Celeste—”
Opening her fist, palm out, Celeste indicated that Honor should shush. So she did.
“Perhaps your young man is right. Hugh always insisted that your fire was inside, subtle but there. I trust that’s true because you’re going to need it now.”
“I don’t want any conflicts.”
“They’ll be unavoidable, I’m afraid. Your mother’s sisters, Gina and Janet, and your spineless cousin Terry will all be rabid over the idea of waiting for any inheritance while you get to collect the cash and move on.”
“I don’t want it.”
Celeste looked at Neil, who shrugged.
“All the same, it’s yours, as Hugh wanted it to be. Gina and Janet have bled him for years. Your mother, Honor, chose to walk away instead. Hugh felt he owed you everything he would have given to her—”
“He doesn’t!”
“—and everything you refused to take while under his guardianship. And so you will take it and that’s that.” She gifted Honor with one of her very rare smiles that somehow still managed to be quite firm and insistent. “I believe I’ll tell the others now—once I get them outside. You stay and visit with Hugh.”
Confused, Honor stared at the closed door.
Neil patted her arm. “I’ve already said my goodbyes to Hugh.”
Meaning he’d go soon, and she couldn’t bear it.
“I’ll go with Celeste now, just in case there are any questions of legality.” Using his cane, he made his way out the door, closed it quietly behind him and still Honor stood there, the letter clutched in her hand.
Jason stroked over her hair. “Are you okay, honey?”
“He’s already given me everything I ever wanted.” Which was mostly to be loved, to be important enough to someone to matter.
“I know.” Jason bent his knees to look into her eyes. “He loves you. He wanted to leave you something. You should honor him by agreeing, don’t you think?”
A small noise drew their attention and they both looked toward the bed. Her grandfather’s eyes were open, gazing at her without really seeing.
“Granddad?” Honor shoved the envelope at Jason and then hurried to the bed.
“Honor, dear.” He smiled wearily as she gently held his hand. “You look so pretty. Did you get a date to the dance after all?”
Tears clogged her throat. “I did, Granddad. I went and I had such a nice time in the dress you bought me.”
“Bah.” His hand remained limp in hers. “If you finally accepted a date, I’m glad.” He looked past her to Jason. “You never went to the dances.”
Honor didn’t know what to say. Whenever her grandfather drifted back to the past, she happily went along rather than confuse him further with corrections.
He squinted his watery eyes. “Who’s that with you? Come closer so I can see you.”
Jason stepped up next to the bed.
Honor was still debating what to say when her grandfather smiled.
“You’re with my Honor?”
“Yes, sir.”
“She’s special,” Granddad warned.
“Very special,” Jason agreed.
Granddad considered him a moment, then sighed and closed his eyes. “Finally.”
Sitting forward, Honor clutched his hand. “Granddad?”
In a faint voice, he murmured, “Go on out and play now, Honor. I need to rest.”
She started to panic, but Jason curved his hand around her nape. “He’s sleeping, honey. See his chest rising?”
Her spine turned into a noodle. She had a little more time...but she knew it wouldn’t be enough.
“You don’t need to stay,” she whispered to Jason. “He might sleep for hours.”
“You’re here.” He brushed his knuckles over her cheek. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”
Lexie poked her head in the door. “Everyone else left.” Seeing Honor and Jason so close, she asked, “Am I intruding?”
Honor waved her in and told her the same thing she’d told Jason. But just as Jason had done, Lexie, too, refused to leave her.
A very kind nurse brought in two more chairs and they waited together, sometimes talking quietly, sometimes sitting in comfortable silence.
With Jason’s arm around her, Lexie’s knees touching her own, she finally read her letter. As Neil had said, it was short and to the point. Granddad already had a burial plot and a headstone ready to complete; she didn’t need to fuss about anything. He loved her, always had. He claimed she’d given him more than he ever could have returned, and thanked her for making an old man happier than he deserved.
A paper clip held Neil’s business card to a short note that explained her grandfather’s current cash balance amounted to a little over five hundred thousand dollars.
He’d left the staggering amount all to her.
Numb, Honor put the note away.
A little after midnight, her grandfather left her.
* * *
Jason woke to the sound of a lawn mower. He jolted, then realized that this time Honor was still burrowed close, her hold on him almost desperate.
For the longest time last night, she’d been strong. Too strong. While sitting with her grandfather’s body, she’d shed a few quiet tears—and then she’d notified the others. Celeste had stood stoically by the bedside, but the aunts and cousin, lacking Honor’s quiet way, had wailed and carried on with effusive emotion, alternately sobbing and blaming Honor.
It had infuriated Jason, but Honor had gone about dealing with the facility and contacting the funeral home. At one point her cousin tried to take over, but Celeste pointed out that Honor was the one in charge.
It was hours before they’d left, and Jason knew she held a wealth of sadness inside her.
She kept herself so contained, and so shut off from others, that it worried him—especially when she continued to urge him t
o go. Both he and Lexie had refused and by the time they’d gotten to her house, she’d given up insisting. With very little effort, he’d talked his way into her bed while Lexie took the couch.
He was starting to understand Honor. For much of her life she hadn’t had anyone except her grandfather. Even Celeste, with her warped encouragement, had slighted her. She and Lexie had been friends a long time, but just as she’d hesitated to burden her grandfather, she hadn’t wanted to take advantage of Lexie’s friendship.
Her parents had taught her not to rely on anyone. Her other relatives had taught her not to hope.
Looking down at Honor now, with only the dim morning light filtering in through the sheets over the windows, he saw the paleness of her skin and the smudges under her eyes. He wanted to insulate her from hurt, protect her from hardship and at the same time show his respect for her strength.
He tucked the blankets up around her and pressed a very soft kiss to her forehead.
Limp with exhaustion, she barely stirred as he eased away.
He stood there at the side of the bed, watching her sleep, and he knew he was falling in love.
The timing sucked. He couldn’t tell her how he felt, not when she spent every other breath trying to force distance between them. She had so much to deal with, and she’d taken great pains to prove her independence.
Instead he’d just be there for her and help her every way he could—meaning as much as she’d allow.
Lexie was still passed out facedown on the couch, a pillow over her head, when he slipped into the kitchen to make coffee. All he could see of her was her feet, poking out from beneath the rumpled blanket.
The scent of coffee must have roused her, though, because just as the carafe filled, he heard sounds of grumbling. When he peeked into the living room, she sluggishly sat up, her hair a little wild, her mouth open in a jaw-breaking yawn.
“Morning.”
She finished her yawn, got one eye open, groaned and flopped back down. “Unfair that you could look so good right now.”
Jason gazed down at his wrinkled slacks and bare feet, but decided not to ask. “Coffee?”
“God yes.” She didn’t move.
“Will I need to pour it down your throat?”
“If you put it at the table, I’ll crawl in and be forever in your debt.” After two tries she finally got off the couch and schlepped down the hall to the bathroom.
Jason fixed his own cup, poured one for her and set cream and sugar on the table. When Lexie returned she looked a little more human—and cute in a bedraggled, underdressed way.
“I’m not a morning person,” she explained as she slouched into a chair.
The nightshirt she wore—one Honor had lent her—barely kept her modesty intact. Under better circumstances, Jason would have imagined it on Honor. But right now caring trumped lust. “Especially when morning comes on the heels of last night?”
“Something like that.” She sipped the coffee and groaned in near bliss. “You’re so freaking perfect you suck.”
“All things considered, I’m feeling pretty imperfect this morning.”
“I know what you mean.” She rubbed her face. “Did Honor get any rest at all?”
“It took her a few hours to fall asleep, but she’s out now.” And while she remained so, he had some questions for Lexie. “You’ve known her how long?”
“Since middle school, after she moved in with her grandfather.” She drank more coffee and propped her head on a fist. “I consider it my greatest feat because Honor doesn’t accept friendship lightly. I had to practically force myself into her life. But it was worth it.” She eyed Jason. “She is worth it.”
“I agree. There’s something about her, this gentle, caring—”
“And ferocious loyalty.”
“All mixed with pride and grit and humor.”
Lexie smiled. “She’s the real deal, when so few people are.”
Yeah, he understood that all too well. “Her grandfather asked her about a dance. I got the impression she didn’t go out much in high school.”
“High school, trade school...basically since I’ve known her. Honor doesn’t trust lightly. She’s friendly to everyone, but only to a point. So even though a lot of guys have asked her out, I could count on one hand the number of times she’s said yes.”
Meaning he was special, regardless of the many ways Honor tried to keep him at an emotional distance. “Anything else you want to tell me about her?”
“Sure. She’s dependable to a fault,” Lexie said around another yawn. “But she never expects anything in return.”
“I got that yesterday, listening to her relatives and her grandfather’s lawyer.” He hesitated, but knowing they were such close friends... “You knew about her parents?”
“Douches,” she said with feeling. “Honor would never admit it, and if you tell her I said so I’ll have to maim you, but they devastated her and she’s never gotten over it. I mean, how does any kid ever get over a thing like that? Her parents literally dumped her and walked away without a backward glance.”
Every time he thought of it, Jason’s heart ached. Through it all, Honor had remained an incredibly genuine, honest person.
“She’s learned to deal with it,” Lexie said. “But it was a crushing blow and sometimes I think it’s left her forever wounded.”
No, Jason wouldn’t accept that. “She’s got more inner fortitude than anyone I know.”
“She’s never been given much choice. Except by her grandfather.”
“And you,” he said.
She half smiled, then asked, “And now you?”
“Yeah.”
When they heard the bedroom door open, they both fell silent in expectation. Half a minute passed. They heard the toilet flush, water running in the bathroom sink and then Honor came into the kitchen, her hair lank, her eyes puffy—and she froze when she saw them.
Jason stood. “Good morning.”
“What are you guys doing here?”
Lexie flattened both hands over her heart and flopped back in her seat. “I’m wounded.”
It struck him that Honor had honestly expected to face the day alone. “You figured I’d leave without telling you?” As you did to me.
Defensive, she lifted her chin. “I thought you’d get on with your day.”
His day would be about seeing to her, but he didn’t bother telling her that yet. “Coffee?”
Her apprehensive gaze searched his. “Thank you.” She sat next to Lexie.
While pouring her coffee, Jason watched out of the corner of his eye and saw Lexie stroke her hair, then take her hand.
“You okay, hon?”
Honor nodded. “Yes, of course. Thank you.”
Extreme politeness seemed to be her defense—and it made him grind his teeth.
Lexie, however, wasn’t deterred. But then, she’d known Honor a lot longer and was probably used to her means of coping. “I can take the day off—”
“No.” Honor accepted the cup he handed to her, then absently stirred in sugar. “I appreciate the thought, Lexie. But there’s no need for you to miss work. I promise, I’m fine.”
Still looking worried, Lexie said, “You’ll have to make arrangements.”
“I know. It’ll be a busy day.” She glanced at the clock and made a face. “I’m sorry, but I do need to call off work.” Taking her cup with her, she stood and said, “If you’ll both excuse me, I...” She trailed off, then disappeared down the hall.
Jason turned to Lexie. “You going to be here a few minutes more?”
“Unless she shoves my lifeless body out the door. Why?”
“I have a few quick things to do. Don’t let her leave without me. Okay?”
“Sure. But don’t worry about it. I know Honor. She doesn’t mean to be rude, but she’s on autopilot today. It’s a defense mechanism for her. She’ll try to stay busy doing, so she doesn’t have to feel.” Lexie tipped her head. “You’re going to stay with her?�
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“One way or another.”
She toasted him with her coffee. “Sounds like you have it covered. But if at any point she needs me—”
“I’ll be sure to let you know.”
* * *
While Honor remained on the phone in the bedroom, making one call after another, Lexie swilled a second cup of coffee. She was starting to come awake, but it’d take a whole lot more—beginning with a hot shower—before she’d be ready to face the world.
She headed back to the couch, dug out her phone and called her job to say she’d be late. Like...not-until-the-afternoon late. Because she had such a great track record for punctuality, it wasn’t a problem.
The pillow and blanket called her name and she was just about to collapse again when a knock sounded on the door. She could still hear Honor on the phone, so she answered it herself.
Sullivan stood there.
Dark sunglasses shielded his eyes from the rising sun, but when his head dipped, she knew he looked her over.
And she wanted to cringe.
He stood there in a snug, snowy white T-shirt that hugged all those lean sexy muscles and black athletic pants, freshly shaved with his black hair combed back.
In one of Honor’s very uninspiring nightshirts, her hair destroyed and her makeup nonexistent, she looked like a rat.
Copping an attitude, she put her hand on her hip and glared. “Your timing stinks.”
He pushed the glasses to the top of his head, and those heated blue eyes went over her again before looking behind her at the bedding on the couch. “You stayed over.”
Lexie pointed to her car at the curb. “You didn’t notice?”
“No.” He glanced back, frowned at her little convertible, then leaned a shoulder on the doorframe. “I thought Jason stayed over.”
“He did.” She smirked. “But I slept separately from them.”
“Knowing Jason as I do, I didn’t have a doubt.”
Meaning he wouldn’t put a threesome past her? “You’re a funny guy this morning.”
With his gaze somehow both intimate and grave, Sullivan frowned. “Sorry. How’s Honor doing?”