“You want a drink?” Hudson stood to the side, watching Nash too closely. He was like a mother hen fluttering around her chicks and it took everything in Nash to keep his cool. No, he didn’t want a fucking drink. He wanted to smash his fists into the wall and break things. He wanted to yell at the top of his lungs, and then he wanted to go after Honey or Arlene or whoever the hell she was and shake the truth out of her.

Had it all been a lie?

“Nash?”

Nash didn’t bother to reply. He was pissed. Hell, that was an understatement. He was so far beyond pissed, he’d crossed into new territory. Throw betrayal in there and his mood was as black as the night sky.

He fisted his hands into the front pockets of his dress pants—it was that or he would punch the wall—and turned to face the floor-to-ceiling windows that ran the length of the Blackwell home. Out there in the darkness that blanketed the lake, a guy could lose himself. Forget about the shit evening he’d just had. The shit evening they’d all just had. He saw Hudson’s reflection in the window, John and Darlene, and his brother Cam. Wyatt and Travis Blackwell had gone home early with their wives, and for that, Nash was grateful. It was bad enough that Hudson, his father John, and Cam were here. If he’d had his way, he would have hightailed it back to his home, but Hudson had insisted.

He thought of Honey again. Of that sweet mouth and all the lies they’d spouted, and he clenched his teeth so tight, pain radiated along his jaw.

“The way I see it, I can do one of two things.” Nash turned around. “I can get black-out drunk and forget about it, or I can deal with the fallout and then maybe get black-out drunk.” He looked at John. “I’m sorry I brought her into your house.”

Her. He couldn’t even bring himself to say her name.

“Sorry I gave her a job. Sorry I didn’t see through all her bullshit.” He cursed and looked up at the ceiling. Noticed a crack in the plaster and wondered if Hudson knew it was there. “At least she didn’t swindle you guys out of anything.” He shook his head. “At least there’s that.”

The Blackwell patriarch rubbed his forehead. He looked fatigued, and Nash knew he was responsible for some of it. “I thought she was lovely. Quick mind with a knack for humor.”

“I did too,” Darlene said slowly, shaking her head. “I’m so sorry, Nash. I know she was…” The older woman cleared her throat and looked downcast. “I know she meant a lot to you.”

Nash felt the small box in his pocket. Hell, yeah. He’d thought she was the one.

“I think it was wrong to ambush her in front of the town the way you did.” Cam had been quiet up to this point, but his eyes were on Hudson. “I think you could have handled it better. Gave her a chance to—”

“A chance to do what?” Nash asked harshly. “Get her story straight and tell more lies? The woman isn’t who she said she was, Cam. She’s made a living swindling folks out of their hard-earned money. Preying on old men, doing God knows what to convince them to part with their cash. She was arrested for prostitution, for Christ’s sake.”

“She said she was arrested, yes.” Cam looked at Hudson. “Was she actually charged? If so, did the charges stick?”

“They were dropped,” Hudson admitted, though his voice was hard and unforgiving. “Doesn’t mean anything.”

“I don’t know about that,” Cam replied. “I think it might mean there’s more to the story. But I guess we’ll never know since we’ll never hear her side.”

Hudson took a step forward. “What the hell do you care, Cameron? Were you doing her on the side? Did she have you in her pocket? We all know your résumé isn’t exactly clean.”

“That’s enough,” Nash barked. He looked at his brother, and even though he hated to admit it, he wondered the same thing. Honey and Cam had gotten close. “She tell you anything?” he asked, hoping he didn’t sound as desperate for answers as he felt.

Cam nodded slowly. “Yeah. The other day, when we were closing the bar. She told me she never knew her father. That she’d never trusted a man before. That she didn’t believe in fairy tales. Then she met you. She told me that you were her fairy tale. That you were her miracle. I told her that was cheesy as hell. She laughed, but she meant it, Nash. Every word.”

Nash had nothing and remained silent.

“Human beings are complicated sorts.” They all looked toward John Blackwell. He sat ramrod straight in his leather La-Z-Boy, his faded blue eyes alive and piercing. “They hide behind masks, behind actions and their past for a lot of reasons. I never got the feeling Honey was looking for a fortune so much as she was looking for a home.” He looked sheepish, as if he hadn’t meant to share so much. “At least, that’s my hope.” He turned to Nash. “I don’t know what happened tonight, but I do agree with your brother. Everyone should have the opportunity to atone for their sins. To tell their story and explain things. There was something about that girl that was special. I hardly knew her and yet…”

“Dad, she would have found a way to get what she wanted from you.”

“But that’s the question, isn’t it?” John asked, his voice fading as fatigue wore him down. “We don’t know what she wanted. No one asked that question.”

That sentence haunted Nash all night. It was nearly four in the morning when he dragged his ass out of the hot tub. He couldn’t sleep in his bed, not while it still smelled of Honey. Hell, he could close his eyes and it was like she was there. When he finally did manage to fall asleep, the sun was already poking through the inky blackness that surrounded him. And when he woke, it was nearly three in the afternoon and someone was pounding at his door.

His first thought was that it was Honey, but when he opened the door, Hudson stood there, shivering in the cold. Hudson stepped inside and closed the door behind him.

“Get dressed.”

“What the hell?” Nash glowered, his mood still black, his mind still chaotic. “You giving orders to everyone or just me?”

“Let’s go see her.”

Nash studied Hudson carefully. “Why? You feeling the need to go at Honey again? Because Cam’s right. Last night shouldn’t have happened. None of it. There was a better way to let her know the game was over.”

Hudson ran his hands through his hair and sighed. “She told you she was from Louisiana.”

Nash nodded.

“She told my dad she was from Missouri.”

Nash scowled. “Well, according to you, she was from everywhere.”

Hudson was silent for a few moments. “Yeah. Well. I just thought maybe you might want to talk to her before she up and leaves and, uh…I thought I’d tag along for moral support.”

Suddenly, all the chaos in his mind settled a bit, and Nash nodded, on his way to the bedroom so he could pull on some clean clothes.

“Give me five.”

It was simple, really. He needed to see Honey, and he needed to hear her side of the story. Maybe then, he could forget about her. He spied the small box on his dresser and swore. Somehow, he didn’t think it would be that easy.

The apartment was empty. Not that Honey had ever domesticated the space. There’d never been pictures or décor or any of that. She’d been enough to fill up the place. The only thing she’d brought into the apartment was the sad excuse of a Christmas tree in the corner. Earl.

With a dull headache still throbbing behind his ears, he looked around and tried not to think of her. But he couldn’t help it. She’d done one hell of a number on him. Caught him unaware. Spun her web and he’d fallen hard. When the hell had he gotten so weak?

He heard a noise behind him and glanced over his shoulder as Hudson stepped inside.

“She’s gone.” He wasn’t expecting that. Not really.

“You okay?” Hudson asked.

He was sick and tired of folks asking him that question, so he ignored it. There’d been at least five voice mails on his cell, all saying the same thing.

“I guess I’ll be renting this place out.”

“I hear Cam’s looking.”

Hudson nodded and sighed. “Yeah. I heard the same.” He walked around the room. Poked his head into the bathroom, shook his head as the image of Honey naked and wet filled his brain, and then headed to the bedroom. Everything was gone. Except…

The pink bear she always had in bed was on the windowsill, and next to it an envelope. Nash stared at it for a long time. He debated tossing the damn thing—what good could it do—but something in him wouldn’t let that happen. He tore it open, a knot in his throat as he began to read.

Nash,

I’m sorry I wasn’t honest with you about my past. About the things I’ve done. Things I’m not proud of. I won’t make excuses, because there are none. I knew what I was doing, and I knew it was wrong. I just want you to try to understand why I am the way I am. All my life, I was searching for the person I thought I wanted to be. The person I was born to be. But that was a stupid thing to do, because the person I am isn’t about my DNA. It’s not about who my father is or who my mother is or how I was created.

I’ve had good and bad stuff go down, mostly been bad, if we’re being honest. Oddly enough, it’s the bad stuff that made me strong, and because of everything I’ve had to overcome, I know I can face pretty much anything. I don’t need to be a Blackwell to know my worth. You made me realize I’m more than what I see in the mirror. You made me realize I want more. I deserve more. Hopefully someday, I’ll find it again. We all deserve happiness, don’t we?

I love you, Nash. I know you don’t believe me, but I had to say it one last time and put it down on paper. I hope you have a good life. I hope you find a woman who challenges you and loves you and is willing to put up with your Barry Manilow obsession. You sing “Copacabana” in the shower. All the time.

Please tell the Blackwells I’m sorry. I never wanted to hurt them, not really. I never thought I’d care about them, but life has a way of throwing curveballs when you least expect it. I just wanted them to know who I was. I wanted to matter to someone. In my mind, it was a way of validating my worth. I screwed that up too. They think I’m the person I thought I was. The person I used to be. I’m not sure if that makes sense.

Water Earl for me and check in on Brooke. Please give Cam a break. He needs you more than you know, and I think you need him just as much. Lastly, tell John Blackwell to forgive himself. I have.

Honey Bee

About my name. I never lied about that. Honey is what my mom called me for as long as I can remember. But my name isn’t Arlene, and it’s not Davenport either. I was born Lila James Blackwell-Boudreau.

Can you give this check back to Hudson? My coming here was never about money. I need him to know that.

Nash looked inside the envelope and spied a check for fifty thousand dollars made out to Arlene Davenport. He sat on the bed and read the letter again. And again. He tried to still the dread that caught at him hard and made him want to hurl up his breakfast.

“You planning on spending the day in here?” Hudson walked into the bedroom and glanced around. “Big room.” His eyes narrowed, and he crossed to the window, scooping up the faded, ratty, pink bear that sat there. It had one plaid ear.

“Where’d you get this?”

“What?” Nash was staring at the letter in his hands, trying to make sense of everything he’d just read.

“This bear. Where the hell did you get it?”

Nash looked up, gut tight, head pounding and feeling as if he’d made the biggest mistake of his life. “It’s Honey’s. She’s had it since she was a kid. I’m surprised she left it behind.” He felt sick and held up the envelope. “Hudsy, this feels wrong.” Jesus fuck, what had he done?

Hudson grabbed the letter. He read it over slowly, and then he sank onto the bed beside Nash. For the longest time, both men were silent.

“Who is she?” Nash asked, feeling like he’d been punched in the gut.

Hudson stared at the floor. He held up the bear and swore. He got to his feet. “I was so damn sure she was out to scam my dad.”

“Who is she?” Nash ground out.

“I don’t know. I…” Hudson looked pale, as sick and miserable as Nash was. “This can’t be happening.”

“Who the hell is she?” Nash stood now, eyeing his friend with a look that said don’t fuck with me.

“We need to find her.” Hudson strode past Nash.

“No shit.” Nash was angry. At himself. At Hudson. At Honey. “You gonna tell me who she is?” he asked one more time, already heading for the door.

“I think she could be my sister.”

That wasn’t the answer Nash was expecting to hear. But it didn’t matter. He was already behind the eight ball, and he needed to work fast if he was going to find her. The one thing he’d learned about Honey Harrison was that she was resourceful as hell. If she wanted to disappear, she would. And if that happened, he’d never see her again.

No way would he even consider that scenario. The next time he laid eyes on Honey, he would never let her go.