Page 162 of Pumpkin Spice Promises

“Because Dad taught them that if somebody needs help, you offer once.”

“That’s it?”

“Pretty much. Our Dad hates pity.”

Something in my chest loosened.

Clover continued. “He thinks helping someone who doesn’t want help is mostly about making yourself feel useful.”

Hunter returned carrying a carton of vanilla ice cream and three bowls. He set the bowls down, his gaze on me, and I knew he had overheard our conversation.

“How long?”

Clover looked at him. “Hunter.”

“What? She knows I won’t judge, we’re in the same boat.” His gaze remained on me.

“Five years.”

He nodded. “Above knee?”

I swallowed. “Yeah.”

“Socket issues?”

“Sometimes.”

“Heat sucks, right?”

“Yes, I keep irritating my skin.” It was so nice to talk to someone who understood.

We talked for almost another hour.

Hunter told me Beau had driven three hours once because one of Hunter’s prosthetic components failed while Clover and Hunter were traveling. Not because Hunter was incapable of figuring it out. Because they needed a ride.

Clover hugged me goodbye on the porch, and I let her. “Your secret’s safe with us.”

“I know.”

“And I’m not going to tell Beau.”

“I know.”

She looked at me. “Do you trust me?”

I thought about it. “Yeah.”

I did.

Beau texted me halfway home, but I didn’t see it until I parked Meme’s Camry.

Beau

You have dinner?

Carson

Clover fed me.