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Still, both our hands are clammy as we climb the steps to Milly’s front door. Her place is different from her brothers’; a rambling white farmhouse with black shutters, it’s much more Southern in flavor, from the tin roof to the wide, wraparound porch.
The door is open. Hank lets us in, my heart pounding at the sound of voices that rise from inside.
I glance at Hank. He glances back. We’re wondering the same thing—not if his family’s been talking about us, but what they’re saying about our epic, fake relationship fail.
Granted, we failed by falling in love for real. Not exactly a bad thing.
Not gonna lie, though, I wonder if they hate us. Hate me. Hank’s been through the wringer, so the last thing he needs is another girl who breaks his heart. He told me he wasn’t in the best shape the week after I left Blue Mountain. Did his family connect the dots and figure out I left for good after he’d all but begged me to stay? I know I got defensive when my brother’s now-wife toyed around with him a little before they got married. It’s only natural to want to protect your loved ones.
I hoped we wouldn’t be the last to arrive. But when there’s trouble brewing, it appears the Beauregard family shows up, and they show up early because everyone is gathered around Milly’s kitchen table.
Emma’s the first to look up when Hank and I walk in. Her expression is subdued.
Shit.
Milly looks at us too. There is nothing subdued about her. Not the way she stands imperiously at the head of the table, or the way she looks us up and down, or the tone of her voice when she says, “Get y’all’s asses in here. Now. You’ve got some explaining to do.”
Hank squeezes my hand.
“Milly,” June says. She’s sandwiched between Samuel and Beau. “Don’t be rude.”
“You know what’s rude, Mama? Lying about—”
“We know,” Beau and Samuel groan together.
“Milly, everyone knows what they’ve lied about,” Beau says. “Rehashing it is pointless.”
“So is raking me over the coals when she’s pulled shit too,” Hank says.
Milly’s eyebrows leap to the top of her forehead. “What does that mean?”
“Means you haven’t been honest, either. The name Kingsley ring a bell?”
Pink splotches appear on her cheeks. “We’re not here to talk about Nate.”
“He’s got a first name now?” Samuel asks.
“He does,” Milly says, looking away. “And he’s currently on my shit list, so can we move on already?”
“Who isn’t on your shit list?” Hank mutters. “You know, Milly, you’ve been a jerk ever since I stepped foot back on Blue Mountain.”
“Hank.” I squeeze his hand. “Not the best way to start this conversation.”
“You have anything to say for yourself?” he continues, staring down his sister. “I’m more’n willing to apologize. But what about you?”
Milly crosses her arms. Rhett taps her elbow. “Sit,” he says. “You promised you’d give them a chance to explain. Considering you aren’t offering to do the same, I’d cool your jets.”
For a second, her expression falls and she blinks, hard. “To be honest, I’m not sure what’s happening with Nate, so . . . yeah. I don’t have anything to say.”
“Does he need talking to?” Beau asks, cracking his knuckles.
Milly waves her brother away. “Mama didn’t raise you to be a caveman.”
“I’m sorry things are, er, complicated with him,” Hank says. “That why you’ve been grumpy?”
“I’m not grumpy.” Milly plops into her chair and gives Hank a look. He gives her one right back.
Beau lets out an aggravated sigh as he tears a hand through his hair. “C’mon, Milly.”
“Fine, I’m grumpy, and I’m sorry.” Milly glances at me. “Now can y’all explain yourselves already?”
“That’s one hell of an apology,” Hank says sarcastically.
“It’s the best you’re gonna get, so move on already.”
I give Hank’s hand another squeeze. Hank’s right. Milly’s apology is half-hearted at best, but we’ve got bigger fish to fry at the moment, a thought Hank seems to second when he turns away from his sister.
My thoughts run riot as I sit beside Hank at the opposite end of the table. There’s usually music, or a baby, or the clank and clatter of a meal being prepared whenever the Beauregards get together. But tonight, there’s just silence.
Awful, heavy silence.
Hank, bless his heart, doesn’t cower. Keeping his hand clasped firmly around mine, he inhales, then pulls back his shoulders on the exhale. He looks Milly in the eye and waits a beat, gathering his thoughts.
Pride swells in my chest. Has Hank handled things perfectly? No. Has he always made smart choices? Also no. But he isn’t afraid to face the fallout, and he sure as hell isn’t afraid to own up to his feelings.
Own up to what he wants. We’re alike in that way.
“There’s a lot to say,” he begins. “But first and foremost, y’all are my family. I love each of you very, very much. I’m proud to be your brother, same as I’m proud to be a Beauregard. Early on, I learned from Mom and Dad the importance of doing anything for your people. Which is how I ended up in this . . . er, pickle.”
