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“What are we talking about?” her father asked.
“Hunter.” Fisher reached around the counter for another gingerbread cookie.
“Oh.” Her father sounded far too pleased, so she looked at him. “What?”
“What?” she echoed. “That’s all you have to say?” Hunter Boone is single.
Her father’s smile disappeared. “You told me if I ever mentioned him you’d never talk to me again. Guess I figured the more time the two of you spent together, you’d figure things out.”
“Seriously, Josie?” Fisher shook his head, then ate another cookie.
“Every time I brought him up, you changed the subject. I got the point,” her father continued.
“That was a long time ago.” He hadn’t mentioned Hunter or the rest of his family in years. Because she’d told him not to. Josie grabbed the plate and shoved it into a cabinet out of Fisher’s reach. “I was young and hurt—”
“You’re my baby girl. And I listened to you,” her father interrupted. “I figured someday you’d find out that he was here, waiting for you.”
Josie glared at her father. “Daddy, I know you love Hunter. But that’s ancient history—”
“Maybe for you.” Fisher’s eyebrows went up.
Her father’s voice was cautious. “Now, Fisher—”
Fisher leaned forward, staring into her eyes. “Ask me how many dates my brother’s been on since Amy left.”
She didn’t want to know, did she? No. She didn’t.
“Let’s give her some time to get used to things, Fisher.” Her father chuckled. “Her whole world just got flipped upside down.”
She lied quickly, to herself and the two of them. “Nothing has changed. Nothing. I’m here to take care of you, Dad, not relive some teenage romance.” She yanked the apron over her head and threw it on the back counter.
“Josie,” Fisher groaned. “Come on now.”
She held up her hand. “Stop. Please.” She paused. “I’m tired. I need a shower. I just hurt a boy that I’d never in a million years want to hurt. So, please, just stop.”
Her father exchanged a quick look with Fisher before he sighed. “It’s closing time, anyway.”
“I’ll lock up,” Josie offered, looking pointedly at Fisher.
Fisher took the hint. “Eli will be all right. You okay?”
She nodded but wouldn’t look at him.
Fisher left and Josie locked the door behind him. She took her father’s arm, leading him back into the house.
“Should I have told you, Josie?” her father asked.
“No, Dad.” She patted his hand. There was no way to go back. Thinking about what could have been, what might have happened, was pointless. “It doesn’t matter. Now go sit, and I’ll get you some water. Maybe a snack?”
Her father nodded, moving slowly to his recliner in the other room. She headed into the kitchen, grappling with too many emotions to understand. But a part of her—a part deeply buried inside—felt relief. He wasn’t a cheater. He wasn’t a liar. He had loved her. Maybe he still—
“Josie, bring the car around,” her father yelled. “We gotta get Sprinkles to the hospital.”
* * *
HUNTER’S CELL SCREEN lit up. Amy. He hadn’t had enough coffee for this yet.
Tripod, the black three-legged cat that roamed the hospital, glared at the phone from his napping spot on the corner of Hunter’s desk.
