Lunch reminded me of moving. Over the course of the hour or so it took for us to make our way through the meal, I found myself thinking more than once that it wasn’t all that bad.

Because nobody died.

There were a few moments when murder looked a possibility. For instance, when Dolly said she didn’t eat peas and Mrs. Hansom remarked children were required to eat what was on their plate or they wouldn’t get dessert. Dolly’s response was to push her plate away and sit with her hands in her lap for the rest of the meal. Then there was the moment when Conway tried to sit his doll next to his plate and Mr. Hansom said toys weren’t allowed at the table. Conway had stared at him for so long I started to wonder if my nephew was gearing up for one of his epic doll related meltdowns. Instead, he handed the doll to Tammy, who laid it in her lap without protest and carried on with her meal like everything was fine. I held my tongue through every snide, backward remark about my business and career.

We might have made it to dessert if Mr. Hansom hadn’t started in on Abraham.

“Had Roy Lancaster call me last night.” Mr. Hansom ripped open the thigh of fried chicken, stabbing the dark meat with his fork while spearing his son with a hard look. “Said he went out to the bar and it was closed. On a Saturday night.”

“I closed around seven last night.” Abraham pushed his potatoes from one side of his plate to the other, exactly as he’d been doing for the last fifteen minutes. To anyone else it would appear he’d eaten more than a fair share of his food but I knew better. “Jeannie and the kids moved yesterday and I wanted to go check on them, see if they needed any help.”

“Closing early and scampering off to go sniffing around some woman isn’t how you run a business.” Mr. Hansom paused for a beat too long before saying, “No offense, Ms. Jackson.”

“Oh, none taken. I’ve been called worse by better.” I beamed at him, pretending not to hear his wife’s shocked gasp. “Really, though, I’m more offended at the way you’re treating your son than anything else, so if you want to apologize for that, I’m willing to listen.”

“The way I’m treating....” Mr. Hansom trailed off, the lines of his face deepening as he frowned. “Now see here, girl, you’ve got no call to go around interfering in family affairs.”

“First, my name isn’t ‘girl’, something you know damn good and well since you’ve been calling me ‘Ms. Jackson’ for the last hour.” I ignored Abraham when he reached over and squeezed my knee, instead resting my hand on his and patting it gently. “Second, seeing as how I’m involved with your son, I think I’ve got plenty of call to interfere when his father starts being a dick.” I smiled wider. “No offense, of course, Mr. Hansom.”

“I won’t have such talk at my table.” The fact Mrs. Hansom seemed more scandalized by my language than by the fact her husband was obviously gearing up to rip their son a new one did nothing to endear her to me. She set her fork down on the edge of her plate with a loud clank and said, “I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

“If they leave, so do I.” Abraham’s hand shook under mine and I squeezed him tight, willing some of my strength in to him. He cleared his throat and said, “I’m sorry someone felt it was appropriate to call you and bother you but I’m not sorry I closed the bar. It’s my business, not yours, and what I decide to do with it is my concern.”

“Boy, don’t you go forgetting I was the one who gave you the money for that... business of yours.” Mr. Hansom threw his fork down, the heavy, ornate silver bouncing off his plate and on to the table, flecks of gravy splattering over the glossy wood surface. Everybody at the table flinched, something which only pissed me off that much more. Fisting one hand on the arm of his wheelchair and shifting to the side, he pointed at Abraham and said, “I gave you the land and the money. You wouldn’t have a damn thing without me and you’d do well to remember it.”

“You sold me the land and you released my inheritance to keep quiet about what happened in the car wreck.” Abraham turned his hand over, lacing his fingers with mine and squeezing hard. I bit back a wince, not having the heart to tell him that was the same hand his father had tried to crush earlier. “You didn’t ‘give’ me anything.”

“I’ve told you before, boy, I don’t care how old you are, when you’re in my house, you’ll show me respect.” Mr. Hansom shoved away from the table, the wheels of his chair squealing on the hardwood floor. Quicker than I would have thought possible, he adjusted the angle of the chair and started rolling forward. “I don’t care if there’s company or not, I won’t have it.”

Abraham and I stood at the same time and it was a tossup as to who was more shocked when I stepped between him and his father—me, Abraham, or Mr. Hansom. Without taking my gaze off the older man, I said, “Abraham, would you take the kids to the car? I’ll be outside in a moment.”

“Jeannie—.”

“Your father and I need to have a real quick conversation and then we can leave.” I squeezed his hand once before slipping mine free, crossing my arms and glaring down at Mr. Hansom, who was still staring at me as if I’d grown a second head. “Kids, go with Abraham.”

“No.” Conway climbed out of his chair, snagging his doll from Tammy’s lap before reaching up and taking Abraham’s hand. “We’ll wait.”

Neither of the girls argued although to be honest I didn’t expect otherwise. One thing I’d learned about my nephew—besides his near fanatical devotion to his doll—was that when he put his foot down, it would take nothing short of an act of God to get him to change his mind and I had my doubts about that. Instead, Tammy set her silverware down and covered her plate with her napkin before rising, gesturing for Dolly to do the same.

“You want to tell me how to raise my child and you can’t get a handle on your own.” Mr. Hansom flicked his tongue over his lips and sneered. “Although what else would you expect from trailer trash?”

“Again, I’ve been called worse by better so if you think I’m going to break down in tears and go running out of here with my tail between my legs, you’re in for a helluva disappointment.” I leaned over, bracing my hands on the arms of his chair and moving in until our faces were an inch apart. This close, the lines and wrinkles were more obvious, along with the faint beginnings of liver spots and the red eyes of a man who’d drank more than his fair share of alcohol over the years. “And maybe it’s escaped your notice but Abraham is far from a child and despite the abysmal job you’ve done as a parent, he’s turned out to be a wonderful, amazing, successful, and caring individual. Now, you don’t know me so I’ll understand you not knowing what I mean when I say this, but Abraham is mine and I’ll be damned if I let anybody mistreat someone who’s mine.”

“This is absolutely outrageous.” Mrs. Hansom tossed her napkin on the table and stood, the pitch of her voice rising to almost glass-shattering levels. Drawing herself up to her full height, she flung her arm toward the arched entrance and said, “I demand you leave, right this instant. Abraham, you’ll stay and apologize to your father.”

“The hell he will.” I shifted my gaze from Mr. Hansom long enough to shoot his wife a hard-eyed glare before turning my attention back to the older man. Leaning closer, I lowered my voice to just above a whisper, making sure he was the only one who heard my next words. “I don’t know what happened in your accident but something tells me the police didn’t get the whole story. You cause Abraham one more ounce of trouble and I’ll dig up enough dirt to bury you six feet under.” Straightening, I stared down at him, satisfied at the pallor in his cheeks and the faint trembling of his hands. “I trust we understand each other now.”

“What did you say to him?” Mrs. Hansom all but screeched out the question, rushing over and kneeling next to her husband, showing far more concern over him than she apparently di over her son’s mental health. Her hands fluttered helplessly around him, the color draining for her face and leaving her nearly as pale as him. “Nora! Nora, Marcus needs his medicine!”

“And that’s our cue to exit.” I stepped back, motioning for the girls to move toward the hall as Abraham picked up Conway. “I’d thank you for a lovely meal but if I was being honest, the peas were overcooked, the potatoes were dry, and the chicken was bland.”

Two minutes later, we were all buckled in the car, speeding down the driveway toward the main road. Turning around, I glanced at the kids in turn and said, “You guys okay?”

“I’m hungry.” Dolly crossed her arms and wrinkled her nose. “And I hate peas.”

“Duly noted.” Lifting my brows, I looked at Conway. “What about you?”

“I’m hungry.” He propped his doll in his lap, smoothing out her dress. “And so is Becky.”

“I’m not hungry but I wouldn’t say ‘no’ to ice cream.” Tammy wrinkled her nose much the same as her sister, pursing her lips as if she’d been sucking on lemons. “Anything to get the taste of those horrible people out of mouth.”

“Can’t really argue with you there.” I shifted until I was facing Abraham, noting the death grip on the steering wheel and the starkly white knuckles. “How do you think the crowd is at the steakhouse right now? Do you think we’ll have to wait a long time for a table?”

Instead of answering, he spun the car out on to the main highway only to jerk the wheel and swing the car to the shoulder, throwing it in to park. He yanked off his seatbelt and flung the door open, stepping out and slamming it shut, stalking around the front of the car to wrench my door open, pulling me out by one elbow. Slamming that door shut as well, he marched me a few feet away, whirling me to face him. “Did you mean it?”

“About the steakhouse?” I frowned, not sure why he was so angry. “No, if there’s some other place you want to eat, it’s fine, as long as they have ice cream. I’m pretty sure the kids are set on ice cream.”

He stared at me, a small muscle in his left cheek twitching almost rhythmically. After a long, tense moment, he said, “You really have no idea what I’m talking about, do you?”

“Uh, no.” I cocked my head. “It’s not ice cream, is it?”

“You said I was yours.” He swallowed hard, closing his eyes and leaning in, pressing his forehead to mine. “You stood between me and my parents and said I was yours—and you don’t even remember saying it.”

“I do.” Now that he’d reminded me. There was no point in telling him I had a bad habit of saying things when I was angry and not remembering them until much later, when I was calm again. Not that I said anything that wasn’t true—it just usually wasn’t the right time for whatever particular truth I’d blurted out. Resting my hands on his hips, I said, “It’s the truth. You’re mine. Christ knows how it happened so fast but there it is.”

“I think I was always yours—even when you were gone and I was fucking anything in a skirt and wondering when life was going to actually happen, I was yours.” He fisted his hands in my hair, pulling me tight against him. “Still, even though I’m yours, you’re not mine.”

“Abraham—.”

“It’s true and I’m telling myself you’re right and I’m rushing things and pushing you and I just have to wait and be patient but....” He trailed off, opening his eyes and looking at me the way every person wants to be looked at once in their life, like I was the sun and the moon and the stars and the earth and there was nothing in the whole of existence except for me. “I can’t wait. I love you, Jeannie Jackson.” He brushed his lips over mine and it took every ounce of willpower I had to not kiss him back. “And I know you don’t love me but I’m going to do my damnedest to try and make you.”

And he would. I’d never been in love—Loretta had loved enough men for the both of us—but I didn’t have to be familiar with the emotion to know I was already teetering on the edge. Had been, it seemed, since I’d walked in to his bar barely a week ago.

It wasn’t the sex—or at least not only the sex. It was the way he listened when I talked, when the kids talked, the way he took note of the smallest detail. The way he looked at me when he thought I wasn’t paying attention and the way he held me when we were sleeping and the way he touched me without even realizing it. It was a hundred different little things that made him who he was and I didn’t believe in miracles but he was as close to one as I’d ever seen.

And I knew if I let him pull me over the edge, if I fell, there’d be no coming back. We’d ruin each other. So I couldn’t love him and it was better for both of us if I didn’t even try.

I opened my mouth to say so. And instead, I heard myself say, “I’m halfway in love with you, Abraham Hansom. Lord knows what I’m going to do about it.”

“Well, you could work on getting the rest of the way there.” He brushed his lips over mine again before stepping back, gliding his hands down my torso and resting them on my hips. “But in the meantime, you and I can take the kids for ice cream.”