Six months ago, if someone had told Nash he’d be hanging out with Honey Harrison after hours, between hours, and before hours, he’d have told them they were damn crazy. Crazy with a capital freaking C. Yet here he was, New Year’s Day, getting ready to head out and pick her up to take her out to Hudson’s place, where all the Blackwells were gathered for good eats and, more importantly, good football.

Now, he wasn’t the guy who’d invited Honey—that had been Wyatt Blackwell’s wife, Regan—though the thought had crossed his mind on account of all the after-hours and hanging out. Thing was, thinking and doing were two entirely different things. Nash was man enough to admit he’d been hesitant to invite Honey because, so far, she’d turned him down for anything that didn’t involve the after-hours business. He’d been as surprised as anyone when she’d handed Regan her cocktail and said she’d love to.

She’d love to.

Wyatt elbowed Nash in the ribs. “Wasn’t so hard now, was it?” Then the middle Blackwell went on to tell Honey how Nash had never brought a woman to the Blackwells for New Year’s Day. Ever.

“I’ve never brought one because you guys act like jerks,” Nash said with disgust.

“Not me,” Hudson replied. At Nash’s dark look, he cracked a smile. “Well, not since I was twenty-five or so.”

And that comment right there had opened up an entirely new can of worms. The Blackwell wives had no qualms about digging into him. About pointing out his age (since when was thirty-five over the hill?) and the lack of bachelor pals in his life. According to them, every single male in Crystal Lake was married or engaged except for Nash Booker. He took the ribbing and didn’t think about it again until later. After he’d made Honey come more times than he could count, he lay on his side and watched her sleep.

He didn’t want to overthink the things that had been said, because that was what got a guy in trouble. Didn’t want to wonder about the whys and the why nots. Nash decided he was better off living in the moment, and right now, his moments were a hell of a lot more fun with Honey in the picture.

He’d had a great New Year’s Eve, celebrating with friends and the regulars at the Coach House. Even his parents had swung by for an hour or so before they headed to the local Legion and the dance they always attended. And now, once brunch with his parents was over, he planned on grabbing Honey and heading to Hudson’s. Speaking of which, his mother had caught wind of his plans and wasn’t pleased.

“I don’t understand why Honey would go with you to Hudson’s but not come here for brunch.” His mother nailed him with a look that told Nash she wasn’t letting up anytime soon. He looked to his brother for help, but the bastard just grinned and winked. His father was studying the china, for God’s sake, and his sister was too preoccupied with the baby to notice anything. Nash was on his own.

He sighed and tossed his napkin. “Mom, it’s not like that.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Lisa Booker’s mouth was pursed, and there was color in her cheeks. This wasn’t good. Nash glanced at the clock on the wall behind her. If he didn’t end this interrogation before it got out of hand, he’d be here all day.

“This is a family thing, and Honey didn’t want to intrude.” Truth was, he’d been more than a little disappointed when she declined his offer of brunch before heading to the Blackwells. He’d asked himself the same questions his mother was firing his way.

“Aren’t all the Blackwells going to be at Hudson’s? Don’t they all watch football together?”

“Well, yes, but—”

“So what’s the difference?”

“There isn’t one I guess, but—”

“There’s a difference,” Cam said as he dug into his hash browns. He took his time chewing and swallowing, and it took everything in Nash not to jump across the table and wipe that silly grin off his brother’s face. Cam pointed his fork at Nash. “Honey’s sleeping with him.”

“Well, I… That’s not what I was asking, and it’s not appropriate conversation for the dinner table.” His mother cleared her throat and shot a look at Cam, one that would silence most smart people. But Cam was playing it dangerous, and his grin widened.

“While we’re on the subject, why don’t you ask Nash if they’re being careful?”

“Why do you have to be careful, Uncle Nash? Are you going to hurt yourself?” Tink spoke up, looking around the table at the adults, obviously confused.

“No,” Nash said with a smile. “Your Uncle Cam is an idiot, so don’t pay any attention to him.”

“Mommy says that idiot is not a nice word.”

“Your mom’s right,” Nash replied, reaching for a bun. “But sometimes, it’s the only word.”

For a few moments, there was blessed silence. But then Cam asked for more hash browns, and as Nash grabbed the plate and handed it off to his mother, she shook her head. “She came for Thanksgiving.”

For the love of God. Nash ignored her.

“But they weren’t having—” Cameron’s words froze as Lisa Booker shot darts with her eyes. “Let me rephrase.” He looked at his nephew and paused before continuing. “They weren’t having fun then.”

“I remember Thanksgiving,” Tink said, chomping away on his food. “It was fun.” He looked at Nash. “We had fun.”

“Theodore, don’t speak with food in your mouth.” Melody Booker eyed her son for a couple of seconds and then turned back to the baby.

“Bud, we’re talking about two different kinds of fun.” Cam was laughing now, and damned if Nash wasn’t trying to hide his own grin.

But their mom wasn’t having any of it.

“I just think she should be here, is all.” Lisa looked at Nash. “If you two are…having fun, well then, she should be here with your family.”

“We don’t know what kind of fun it is, though.” Cam’s brow furrowed. “There’s lots of different kinds of fun.”

Nash kicked at his brother under the table but missed.

“There’s casual fun. One-night-only fun. Then you got your semiserious fun or your”—Nash narrowed his eyes as his brother air quoted—“on-the-cusp-of-something-big kind of fun.”

“What kind of fun is it, Uncle Nash?” Tink pushed his glasses up and looked at Nash expectantly. “The last one sounds cool, even though I don’t know what it means.”

“You gotta be kidding me,” Nash muttered.

“No,” Tink replied seriously. “I want to know.”

“I do too,” his mother said.

Nash set down his fork, aware that every member of his family was staring at him. Even Melody had turned in her chair.

It was a losing battle, and his temper was about to blow. “I don’t know, okay? I don’t know what we’re doing. I have no idea what kind of…fun…we’re having. I asked her to come, and she said another time.” He frowned. “Maybe another time is what she said. Can we move on to something else?” He glared at his brother. “Any news on the trial date? That sounds like fun. But what kind of fun would that be, exactly?”

And just like that, the light went out of Cam’s eyes. “You’re an asshole.” Cam got to his feet and grabbed his plate before clearing the others and heading to the kitchen.

“That was a cheap shot, Nash.” Lisa Booker followed her younger son out to the kitchen, while his dad said he was going to take out the garbage.

Tink looked at him. “I think Uncle Cam is mad at you.”

“I think you’re right.”

“And Nana too.”

Melody took a sip of wine and looked at him. “Have you asked Cam about what happened? Do you even know the story?”

Nash shook his head but remained silent.

“He’s your little brother, Nash. Aren’t you supposed to be up in his shit? Don’t you want to know?” Melody got up and came around to him. She kissed him on the cheek. “He needs a big brother right now. We both do.”

Nash’s heart melted. He knew his sister was going through a rough time. “Hey, I’m sorry. I’ve been in a weird mood all day.”

Melody smiled and winked. “That’s because you’ve been having lots of on-the-cusp-of-something-big kind of fun. You’ve never had that before.” She grabbed her son’s hand and, with the baby on her hip, headed to the kitchen, leaving Nash alone in the dining room.

Some family brunch this turned out to be. He was kind of glad Honey hadn’t been there to see the fireworks. Nash got up from the table and grabbed the cutlery and remaining dishes. His mother was loading the dishwasher and didn’t bother to turn around.

“You having coffee?”

“No, I’m good.”

Lisa Booker turned the machine on and stared out the window. “Sometimes I feel like our family is…like the glue is coming undone.”

“Mom. No.” Damn, he felt like a shit. Why couldn’t he keep his mouth shut?

“All I want is for my babies to be happy.” Lisa turned and faced him. “Melody will get there. This is just a bump in the road. But she’s a smart girl, and she’ll be okay.” She sighed and reached for her mug. She didn’t drink her coffee, just held on as if she needed the warmth. “Cam is another story. His heart is too soft. So I worry about him. I worry about this trouble he’s landed in. Trouble that could affect the rest of his life. But as a mom, I can only steer my car, you know? I can’t drive Cam’s. He’s got to figure that out on his own. But he could probably use his brother right now. He doesn’t show it, Nash, but he’s scared. And he should be.”

Nash crossed the room and gave his mom a big hug. “We’re all going to be fine. Don’t worry about us.”

She drew back and cupped his face. “Are you happy, Nash? Really happy?”

An image of Honey floated in front of his face, and he thought that if he could convince her to stick around Crystal Lake, he would be over-the-top happy. But he didn’t tell his mother that. He kissed her on the cheek and told her his life was perfect.

Lisa Booker was no fool. “No one’s life is perfect. If it was, life wouldn’t be all that interesting.”

“I’m heading out. Where’s Cam?”

“He’s out in the garage with your father.” She wrinkled her nose. “Apparently, it takes two of them to take out the trash. Ask him, Nash. Ask him to tell you what happened. That’s all he’s been waiting for.”

Nash wasn’t sure he wanted to hear Cam’s story, but he nodded and said he would. She gave him one last hug and snuck a container of biscuits in his pocket. “Tell Honey I said hello and I’m sorry we didn’t get to see her.”

“I will.”

Nash headed to the garage and passed his father, who was on his way back into the house.

“She knows you’re smoking out there.”

His dad paused and scratched his head. “I figured as much.”

Nash gave him a hug and made plans to meet up for a beer later in the week. His brother sat at the old workbench along the far wall, and from the smell of it, he was enjoying a bona fide Cuban cigar. Cam offered him one, but Nash declined. He’d never been a cigar guy.

“Remember when we used to sit out here and glue our models together?” Cam blew out a stream of smoke.

Nash nodded and glanced around. The place hadn’t changed at all. There were still oil stains on the floor and the smell of stale cigarettes and the compost out back.

“Her name is Iris.” Cam looked at him.

“Who?” Nash asked.

“The girl I was having a whole bunch of on-the-cusp-of-something-big kind of fun. Iris.”

Nash didn’t say anything.

“I met her in the city. She worked at this strip joint in the east end. A bunch of us went in one night after work. There was something about her. Not sure what it was, but something. She’s a small little thing with big blue eyes and long blonde hair. So delicate, you feel like you could crush her just by holding her. I knew the moment I laid eyes on her she was trouble. The guys warned me, but she looked at me, and everything inside went quiet. It’s hard to explain.”

Nash thought of Honey. Of how she twisted him up inside.

Cam tipped ashes into a glass tray. “She has a little kid. A girl named Tawny. When Iris isn’t high, that little girl is everything. But when she’s using, she’s flying solo. She forgets about her job. Me. Her little girl. She does it to forget about the pain.” Cam butted the cigar and turned to Nash. “The drugs they found belonged to Iris. I’m not into that shit, and I gotta say, Nash, it pisses me off you’d even think that.”

Nash stared at his brother, his face hard. “Why in hell would you take the fall if they weren’t yours? You could go to prison. You know that, right?”

Cam nodded. “I do. But if Iris goes to prison, her little girl goes into the system, and I can’t let that happen. Next to her grandmother, I’m all that little girl has. I told Iris if she didn’t get treatment, I’d tell the cops the truth and she’d get thrown in jail. She’s in this place in Detroit. Tawny is with the grandmother in Oregon until Iris gets out. The lady is old and in a wheelchair so it’s not ideal, but for now it works.”

Nash let all this settle, and a newfound respect bloomed in his chest as he watched his brother. “I had no idea.”

“You never asked.”

No. He hadn’t. “I get you want to help this woman and the little girl, but, Cam, jail could ruin your life.”

“I have to do this, Nash. I told Iris I would see this through as long as she did her part.”

“What does your lawyer say?”

Cam glanced at his watch. “You better get your ass in gear. Football starts in twenty minutes.”

Nash didn’t bother asking about the lawyer again, because he knew Cam wouldn’t share until he was ready.

“You want to come with us? I think Travis is home. He has a two-day break between games.”

“Nah.” Cam got to his feet and followed Nash back to the house. “I’ll watch the game here with Dad and Tink. Someone needs to keep that kid in line.”

“You sure?”

“Go get your girl before she changes her mind.”

Nash watched his brother head into the house before walking down the driveway and through the white picket fence to where his truck was parked. He hopped in just as his phone pinged, and he glanced down at the text message. It was from Honey.

If you hurry up, we can have some fun before we have to be there.

He laughed out loud as the engine roared to life. Nash tore down the street, trying to figure out what kind of fun they were having. But then, he knew…didn’t he?

It was about as far away from casual as a man could get.