Juniper Hill (The Edens)

Knox rapped his knuckles on the bathroom door, then walked to me at the counter, setting down a steaming mug of coffee. “Here, honey.”

“Thanks.” I put my brush down and gave him a smile through the mirror. My hair hung in damp strands down my back and the plush white towel I’d cinched around my chest was so big it hit me at the knees.

He dropped a kiss to my bare shoulder and gave me a look that said today wasn’t going to be the relaxing, stress-free Sunday I’d hoped for. Our Saturday hadn’t been a lot of fun either.

“I called the hotel. Talked to Mateo. He checked in a couple with the last name Ward last night.”

My hands fisted. “They didn’t leave.”

“Nope.”

“Well . . . shit.”

“Pretty much,” he muttered.

Of course they’d be at The Eloise, polluting what was mine. There were a few motels in the area but none were as nice.

What were my parents doing here? Why the phone calls? Why the private investigator? They’d turned their backs on me when I’d needed them most, yet now they showed. Now? Maybe I could believe there wasn’t some ulterior motive if only Mom had visited. It had been her calling for months. But for Dad to make the trip to Montana, there was something else going on.

There’d been desperation in his voice yesterday. Urgency.

“I need to talk to them,” I grumbled.

“Give me ten to shower. Then we’ll go.”

“Wait.” I held up a hand before he could take off his shirt. “I’d better talk to them alone.”

“No.”

“Knox—”

“No, Memphis.”

I stepped closer, fitting my hands to his ribs, feeling the tension in his body beneath the long-sleeved thermal he’d pulled on this morning after rolling out of bed. “I love that you’re ready to follow me into battle. But I know my parents. I know my father. If you’re there, he won’t tell me the truth. He’ll be on the defense.”

Knox dragged in a breath, his nostrils flaring. Then his frame relaxed and he wrapped me in his arms. “I don’t like this.”

“Me neither.”

“I’m not staying here. We’ll go in together. Drake and I will hang at the restaurant.”

I nodded, burying my face in his chest, drawing from his strength. “Okay.”

He kissed my forehead, then we both flew into action, me blow-drying my hair while he showered.

He’d taken seven trips to the loft yesterday, each time under the ruse of getting something for Drake. He’d leave with my empty laundry basket and return with it overflowing.

My shampoo and conditioner were in the shower. My other toiletries were in a drawer beneath one of the double sinks. My clothes were hung in his closet. My panties, socks and bras were in the dresser. And nearly everything of Drake’s was in the guest bedroom.

In a single day, he’d practically moved us in.

We were moving at the speed of light, and even though my brain screamed for me to slow him down, my heart refused to put up a fight. Instead, I’d just helped him organize.

If we fell apart—God, I hoped we didn’t fall apart—I’d be moving into town. So what was the difference between moving out of his place or the loft?

While I changed Drake out of his pajamas and into an outfit, Knox reloaded the diaper bag. When I stepped outside, ready to head for the Volvo, Knox’s truck was running, the cab warm, and the base for Drake’s car seat was secured in the back.

The drive to town was silent. This was the first time I’d been a passenger in ages, and seeing Quincy from this angle was different. Or maybe today as we drove, I saw it for what it had become.

Home.

The town council was already gearing up for the holidays. Pine-bow garlands twined around each of the lampposts that lined Main Street. Quincy Farm and Feed had fenced off a quarter of their parking lot for Christmas trees. The movie theater featured the latest blockbuster along with Dr. Seuss’s The Grinch.

I hadn’t been to the theater yet but when Drake was older, we’d be weekend regulars. A chalkboard sign for free apple cider had been placed in the window of the Wooden Spoon. Another store I hadn’t been in yet but maybe I’d swing in and get Knox a kitchen gadget. I knew the storefronts but not their interiors. I hadn’t made exploring Quincy a priority, but that was about to change.

Since I’d left the city, I’d been telling myself not to give up. But did I need the daily reminders anymore? Maybe not.

I wasn’t giving Quincy up.

Or Knox.

“Hey.” He stretched an arm across the truck’s cab and captured my hand. “Change your mind about me coming along?”

I squared my shoulders. “No. I’ll handle them.”

“There she is.” He shot me a grin. “There’s my girl.”

Yes, I was his. And I could do this.

As we drew closer to The Eloise, I spotted the SUV my parents had been driving yesterday. My heart rate spiked as we eased into the alley behind the hotel. I swallowed my nerves and focused on getting Drake out of the truck.

“I’ll carry him,” I told Knox when he reached for the car seat’s handle. I needed the weight to keep my hands from trembling.

We walked inside and headed straight toward the front desk, where Mateo was drinking a to-go cup of coffee from Lyla’s shop.

“Hey.” Knox jerked up his chin.

“Hey.” Mateo hopped off his stool and rounded the corner of the counter, coming to stand beside his brother.

With a dusting of stubble on his jaw, Mateo looked more like Knox than ever. He had the same broad frame, but he hadn’t built up as much muscle yet.

Mateo and Knox shared a look, then he nudged my elbow with his. “How’s it going, Memphis?”

“It’s all right.”

“Yeah,” he muttered. “They’re in room 307.”

“Okay.” I set the car seat on the floor and bent to touch my son’s nose. “Be good, baby.”

The smile he gave me was all the incentive I needed to stand up to my parents. They weren’t going to take this life from us.

Knox pulled me into his side when I stood. “We’ll be here.”

“Thanks.”

He brushed a kiss to my mouth, then gave me a sure nod as I headed for the elevators. My footsteps were steady, a contrast to my racing heart, as I walked down the hallway on the third floor. I took one fortifying breath outside the room, then raised my hand to knock.

My father answered the door wearing another Italian suit. If he was surprised to see me, he didn’t let it show as he waved me inside. “Memphis.”

“Dad.”

This was one of the larger rooms, a corner room with enough space for a small table by the window. Mom was seated, her back as stiff and straight as my own. Except it wasn’t determination fueling her forward. She’d sat stiffly her entire life, on constant edge because of my father.

Her eyes dragged over my hoodie and jeans. Her lip curled, barely, but I caught it. Mom had never liked jeans. She lived her life in tailored slacks and silk blouses. Today’s were both a matching ecru. Diamonds decorated her ears.

“Sit,” Dad ordered, taking a chair of his own.

It grated on me to obey, but there’d be plenty of time to fight. I chose the seat across from his so I could hold his gaze for this conversation.

He looked exactly the same as he had months ago. Blond hair with white streaks at the temples. Hazel eyes that would have been colorful if not for their constant cold glare. Thank God we didn’t look alike. My sister and brother both resembled Dad, but I’d taken my features from Mom.

Houston and Raleigh hadn’t bothered calling, so I didn’t waste time asking about their well-being. They certainly hadn’t given a shit about mine.

“Why have you been calling me?” I asked Mom.

Her eyes flicked to Dad, guilt creeping into her expression. Maybe he didn’t know that she’d been dialing my number nonstop.

“If you really wanted to know, maybe you should have answered the phone,” Dad clipped. Okay, so maybe he did know about the calls.

“Why the private investigator?”

“You packed up your car and left.” Mom looked at me like I’d offended her. Like I’d spit in her champagne.

“There was no reason for me to stay in New York.” I leveled a glare at Dad. “I had no job. No home.”

He leaned back in his seat, giving me that impassive stare he was so feared for at Ward headquarters. “That was your choice.”

“Was it?” I arched an eyebrow.

“We wanted to make sure you were safe,” Mom said, her voice dropping to nothing more than a whisper.

She had wanted to know I was safe. Having me followed must have been her idea. From the look on Dad’s face, he couldn’t have cared less.

“If you were really worried about my safety, you would have come to the hospital when I was in labor.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there.” Mom looked to Dad with blame etched on her pretty face. “That man from yesterday. Who is he?”

“Knox Eden. His family owns this hotel.”

“Oh, is—”

Dad frowned. One single glare and Mom ceased speaking as he waved her away. A flick of the wrist that her questions were nothing.

She shrank into her chair. While Dad hadn’t changed in months, Mom seemed . . . tired.

The lines around her eyes were more prominent, not that there were many. She had a team of estheticians who pampered her weekly along with a world-class dermatologist and the highest-paid plastic surgeon in New York City to ensure she didn’t look a day over forty.

Unlike Dad, Mom hadn’t come from money. She’d married into wealth, and because of her prenup, there was little she’d do to risk the six-carat diamond on her ring finger. She’d fight time and age tooth and nail until the end of her days.

At one point, I’d pitied Mom. She loved her lifestyle and it had trapped her to my father’s every whim. But that was before she’d left me alone. Before she’d cowered to his will and, as such, forsaken her child. There was no pity left.

She could call every day from now until the end of her life. It was too damn late.

She’d made her choice.

And I’d made mine.

“Why are you really here?” That question I aimed at my father. “I’ll take the truth this time. Because there is no way you’d travel here to rescue your daughter.”

“You’re to come home. Once we arrive in New York, we will have a more thorough discussion.”

“Unless you plan to put a bag over my head and drag me onto the airplane, I won’t be leaving Quincy.”

Dad’s jaw clenched. “You’ve made your point, Memphis. You’ve had your little tantrum. Enough.”

“You think this is a tantrum?” I huffed a dry laugh. “This isn’t me acting out to get your attention. I don’t need or want you in my life.”

Imagining Drake saying that statement to me would have been like a dagger through my chest.

Mom flinched.

Dad didn’t so much as blink.

“If you want a thorough discussion . . .” I threw his words at him. “We’ll be having it here. This is your window of opportunity.”

He pursed his lips.

“Fine.” I made a move to stand but he held up a hand.

“I received a call from a woman.”

I settled into my chair as the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. “Who?”

“She didn’t give me her name. But she claims that you have Oliver MacKay’s child.”

It took everything I had not to react. I felt the color drain from my face, yet I didn’t move. I barely breathed.

“She’s blackmailing us. Either we pay her to keep quiet or she’ll be going to the press. You’re to come home so I can ensure you keep your mouth shut while my lawyers eviscerate her.”

My heart beat so hard it hurt. Who was this woman? How could she know about Oliver? Unless this was all a lie. Maybe Mom’s private investigator had done more than simply follow me to Montana. Maybe I’d screwed up and left some trace along the way.

Dad was stubborn enough to intrude into his daughter’s personal life.

“Here’s what I don’t understand.” I held up a finger when Dad opened his mouth. “Why do you want to know so badly? Why?”

“Why won’t you just tell me so we can deal with this mess? Is it Oliver MacKay?”

“It’s not your business.”

“Damn it, Memphis.” He leaned forward, a growl in his voice. “You are acting like an insolent child.”

“You are not entitled to control of my life.”

“I am your father.”

I shook my head. “You do not understand the meaning of that word.”

“Memphis, this is so petty,” Mom said. “Your father is trying to help. But we need all of the information.”

“This woman. This blackmailer. Let her go to the press.” It was the last thing I wanted but I suspected my father felt the same. So I’d call his bluff.

As long as I didn’t admit or confirm that Drake was Oliver’s child, there was nothing but speculation. Considering I was in Montana, this drama wouldn’t touch me in the slightest.

But it would definitely put a damper on Dad’s day.

“Oliver MacKay?” Dad seethed. “Really, Memphis? I thought you were smarter than that. Instead you’ve acted like a whore and now I’m cleaning up this mess.”

Mom tensed in her chair but she certainly didn’t come to my rescue.

A whore. Maybe. It stung, but it wasn’t the first time he’d used his words like a whip. “If you’re worried about your reputation and a scandal, then pay the woman and be done with it. Or don’t pay her. I don’t care. But I told you months ago, my son is mine and mine alone. You can either accept that or not. It doesn’t matter. We don’t need you.”

“I’ll use the money from your trust fund.”

“Are you here looking for my permission? Trust me, I realized the day I left that the money would never be mine.”

“Is it true? Is it Oliver?” Mom asked.

I clamped my mouth shut.

“Memphis.” Dad enunciated both syllables of my name. That meant he was moving beyond angry to infuriated. “You realize that if this gets out, people will believe we’re linked to that family.”

“So?”

Dad’s eyes narrowed. “We cannot afford a scandal with the mafia. I’ve spent my life rebuilding our good name.”

His life’s work had been spent correcting his own father’s mistakes.

My grandfather had started Ward Hotels in New York. He’d been extremely profitable in a time when other hotels had not. Dad had never confirmed exactly why, but when I was twelve, the FBI had investigated the business.

The only reason I’d known about it was because an agent had come to our home one day. I’d been sick and hadn’t gone to school. My nanny had made me stay in bed all day, but I’d wanted to watch TV. So while she’d thought I was napping, I’d snuck out of my room.

An FBI agent had been standing in our foyer asking Mom questions. I’d sat at the top of the stairs and listened to them all.

Whatever illegal undertakings my grandfather had done to get ahead, my father had unraveled them. Nothing had come from that investigation as far as I knew, and there were no illegal happenings at Ward, I’d bet my trust fund on it.

But our good name had become Dad’s obsession. Just the idea that I’d tangled with Oliver MacKay, well . . .

I doubted he would have flown to Montana had Drake’s father been any other man.

“None of this involves me. You have plenty of lawyers who can continue to protect your precious reputation. Sic your bloodsuckers on this woman, whoever she is. I don’t care.”

“You would turn your back on your family?”

“Be careful, Daddy. Your hypocrisy is showing.” I stood from the chair, done with this conversation. “My family is here. My son is my family. You know, that little boy you couldn’t even look at yesterday? His name is Drake, by the way.”

Dad stood, pointing a finger at the table. “We’re not done talking. Sit down.”

“I didn’t get the chance to say goodbye after you evicted me. So I’ll remedy that today. Goodbye, Dad. Goodbye, Mom. Safe travels home.”

Without another word, I stalked to the door, whipping it open and storming down the hallway. The elevator opened almost immediately after I pushed the down arrow and once I was safe inside, I closed my eyes and breathed.

If they stayed tonight, I’d be cleaning their room tomorrow. Humiliation crept through my veins, and I squeezed my eyes tighter.

This was just one more hurdle to cross. They’d leave and eventually people would forget that Victor and Beatrice Ward had a second daughter. They’d forget me too.

The ding of the elevator chimed before I was ready and the doors slid open. Mateo was at the front desk, his eyes on his phone. When he heard my footsteps on the floor, he glanced over, ready to speak, but the look on my face must have changed his mind.

He simply nodded and let me escape into Knuckles.

There wasn’t much of a breakfast crowd. The hotel was quiet this weekend, but according to Eloise, every room was sold out for Thanksgiving in two weeks.

I hadn’t thought about the holidays. I’d never spent one away from my family.

Family.

That word didn’t hold much weight at the moment. It rang hollow in my mind.

But I had Drake. I’d always have Drake.

I stepped into the kitchen and, at the sight that greeted me, came to a full stop.

Knox stood at the sink, the water running over a potato, but he wasn’t paying any attention to the spud. He was pretending to snack on Drake’s cheek, earning a drooly smile.

The two of them together were so true and real that my eyes flooded. I’d left my composure on the third floor. The first tear streaked down my face as Knox glanced over his shoulder, finding me by the door.

He dropped the potato and smacked a fist on the sink to shut off the water, then he walked over and pulled me into his chest with his free arm. “I should have gone with you.”

“No.” I sniffled, reining in the tears. “It was best I went alone.”

“Are they leaving?”

“I don’t know. I hope so.”

“Memphis, you gotta tell me what’s going on.”

“I know.” I leaned away and looked up at my son. A beautiful baby boy with blond hair like mine.

And like his father’s.