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“Money isn’t everything.”
She jerked her head back. “The only people who say money isn’t everything are people with money. Have you ever thought about that?” Nash Booker might not belong in the same money club as the Blackwells, but she’d seen enough to know he’d never gone to bed hungry and woken up with a bellyache that didn’t go away. He’d never had to make it through a school day with a juice box, a fruit roll up, and, if she was real lucky, two slices of stale bread with some peanut butter slapped on. Her lips formed a bitter line. Bet he’d never had the joy of wearing jeans three sizes too big, or underwear riddled with holes.
He looked her way. “Look, I don’t want to get into a big debate or anything. All I meant is that life is more complicated than the bottom line of someone’s bank account. Being rich doesn’t give you a free pass. The Blackwells have had their share of pain.”
Honey needed to cool her engines because she didn’t want to get into a discussion about the Blackwells. She’d held her cards close to her chest this long. No sense in screwing things up now. She exhaled and counted to five. “You’re right.” She tugged at the edge of her jacket cuff. “So, not to change the subject or anything, but what was everyone trying so hard not to talk about at your parents?”
The dark didn’t hide Nash’s scowl. “You mean what the hell did Cam do?”
She watched him closely. “Unless you want to chat about your sister.”
He swung her a look. “You don’t miss anything.”
“I pay attention to people. Part of my job description.” She was going for light, but the scowl never left Nash’s face. The Booker household was weathering their own kind of storm. A person would have to be deaf, dumb, and blind not to pick up on that.
“I’m surprised you haven’t heard, considering this town lives on gossip.” He settled back in the seat but kept his eyes on the road. “Cam crossed a line. An irresponsible, unforgivable, not to mention one hundred percent illegal line. I hope they throw his ass in jail. Hell, if my mother hadn’t stepped in, he’d be locked up right now.”
“Jail?” Her eyebrows shot up. “That’s pretty harsh.”
“When you get caught with drugs and charged with intent to sell, jail is pretty much the only thing in your future. That’s not the worst of it. They’re looking at more charges. A kid ended up in the hospital because of him.”
Honey was more than surprised. She’d lived most of her life smack dab in the middle of a community of addicts. Drugs. Alcohol. Gambling. All of it. She’d gotten really good at reading the signs, and Cam didn’t fit.
“He uses?” she asked.
“I don’t know.” Nash’s nostrils flared, and he shrugged. “I don’t care.”
Liar.
Nash cared. It was obvious he cared a lot. Honey looked out her window. The reflection that stared back at her made her heart twist. It was like looking at a ghost. The ghost of a mother before time, disappointment, a broken heart, and drugs took her life. She squeezed her eyes shut and rested her forehead against the cool glass. It was better not to care. You couldn’t feel pain that way.
What am I doing? Why am I here?
The overwhelming urge to disappear into that darkness—to retreat and hide—slammed her so hard, she felt dizzy. Her breaths fell rapidly, and she had to work to push away the nausea that suddenly rumbled in her stomach. This was a bad idea. She had no business going to Hudson Blackwell’s. At least not when she was feeling so damn fragile.
Honey turned to Nash, her every intention to ask him to turn around, when he signaled left.
“Here we are.”
She followed his gaze and spied a large sign hanging from a post set among a stand of evergreens. Lit from above, it glowed eerily in the dark and snow. Lake of the Woods Resort and Northern Spa.
The entrance was plowed, and they had no trouble navigating their way through the forest on either side. This too was lit with small lanterns hung on iron hooks stuck into the ground. It was beautiful, everything you’d want a place up here to be, and eventually, the road gave way to a clearing and a large house that sat upon a crest.
It looked like… “Is it a log cabin?” she asked, peering through the windshield as Nash parked his truck beside a black SUV.
“It’s the original lodge, but Hudson and Bec did extensive renovations. I guess you could call it a log cabin on steroids.”
Nash was sure right about that. Honey slowly got out of his truck and cranked her neck for a better look. Light spilled from the windows, casting a swath of warmth in the snow. An extra-large covered porch, complete with a set of rocking chairs, ran the entire length of the home, while the upper level featured dormers that brought to mind a Cape Cod style. The house was rustic and contemporary, and she was pretty sure no expense had been spared.
Honey was pensive as they made their way up the path that led to the deep porch. This house was everything she’d ever fantasized about as a child. And it was as far away from Sunset Park as she was from the moon.
Nash didn’t bother to knock, and she hesitated as he stepped into the house. Warmth hit her face, and she shivered in the cold, eyes on the scene before her. A massive stone fireplace took up a good portion of the wall across from where she stood, and flames licked logs that smelled like hickory and brought family to mind. Thanksgiving. The space looked open from what she could tell, and she closed the door behind her, eyes wide as she took in the true extent of this fabulous cabin on steroids.
It was an architectural triumph of woodsy Americana and sharp, modern edges tempered by color—deep burgundy, cream, and crisp navy. The main living area was open and inviting. To her left, a gleaming kitchen featured slick stainless-steel appliances and dark granite. The massive dining table sat at least twelve and looked as if it were made from restored barn planks. The leather furniture grouped around the stone fireplace looked comfortable, the grain and texture distressed.
And gathered around a large coffee table were the Blackwells. A man glanced up, a wide smile on his handsome face when he spied Nash. His dark gaze swung to Honey, and her heart literally stopped. She saw the question in his eyes as he got up and headed their way, a small baby in the crook of his arm.
“Hudson, this is Honey.” Nash glanced at her, a puzzled look on his face. “I don’t think you guys have met.”
