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“That’s the plan.” Ever since fifth grade, Nash went to his buddy Hudson’s after Thanksgiving dinner was over. The boys would drink soda and eat popcorn and watch football. Of course, as they’d grown into men, the menu changed to beer, and there were several gap years when neither one of them had been home for the holidays. But since Hudson had returned to Crystal Lake, they’d fallen back to their old ways, and he was looking forward to hanging with his oldest pal.
“You give that sweet boy a kiss from me,” his mom said.
“I’m sure Hudson will appreciate it,” he replied with a wink. “And I’ll make sure to give one to the kid too.”
“The kid has a name,” she said with a chuckle. “Though the last time I saw Hudson, I heard him call the little guy Hank. I thought his name was Jameson?”
“It is.” At his mother’s curious look, he shrugged. “I have no idea why.”
He took a step toward the hallway that led to the front of the house and the family room when he stopped. “What’s up with Melody and Jason?”
Lisa Booker fiddled with her mug. “I’m not sure. She said he had to work.”
“And you believe her?”
Lisa glanced up. “No.”
He crossed the room and grabbed up his mother in a hug. “It’s not exactly the Thanksgiving you were hoping for.”
Again, she spoke, her voice a soft tremble. “No.”
They didn’t say anything more, and after a few seconds, Nash pulled away. “You want me to stay? I don’t have to go to Hudsy’s.”
“Go.” She shushed him with her hands. “Have a good night, and I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
He headed for the hall.
“And Nash?”
“Yeah?”
His mom smiled. “Make sure you take Honey with you.”
Nash didn’t bother to reply to that comment and headed for the family room. He walked in and was immediately accosted by Tink, who practically jumped into his arms.
“Uncle Nash! Honey shooted a gun once! At a robber!” Tink’s eyes were huge round balls of blue that filled up his face. The little guy shoved a curl off his brow and shook Nash’s shoulders. “A robber was trying to steal her bear.”
Nash shot a look toward Honey. This was going to be good.
“A bear.”
Tink was nodding furiously. “Uh-huh. Her special pink bear.”
“Special pink bear.” Nash raised an eyebrow, his gaze still on Honey. “Did this bear have a name?”
She flipped her ponytail and angled her head. It exposed the soft skin at her neck and the top of one of her tattoos. One of six. In that moment, he would have given anything to know where the others were.
“Daisy.” She cleared her throat and held his gaze.
“You had a pink bear named Daisy.”
“I did.”
“And someone tried to steal this pink bear.” He was trying to keep a straight face, but it was hard. Damn hard.
“Yes.”
“And you shot at this person for trying to steal your pink bear.”
