One Big Little Secret: A Secret Baby Romance (The Rory Brothers Book 2)

Apparently, despite being a member of this family for three damn decades, I had no idea just how much shit my brothers are capable of hurling at me.

Just showing up with Salem on my arm opens the floodgates.

“I never thought you’d be into the secretary type.” Archer shrugs and laughs, popping open another beer as he leans against the front step. The porch leads into the backyard, where a pristine lawn and garden meets a swimming pool in the nicer weather. Right now, it’s still covered for winter and the grass is brown.

“Yeah, man, I would’ve thought you’d give Miss Willis a chance.” Dexter grins. “She’s been hitting on you for years.”

“I’m not into secretaries. For fuck’s sake,” I growl, leaning against the aged wood and taking a deep breath. “You guys can knock it off. It just happened.”

Inside, somewhere, I hope Salem’s holding her own. Not fending off a similar assault of teasing questions from my mother, though she wouldn’t be half as bad as these piranhas.

Mom has a moral backbone and she isn’t nearly so obnoxious. That’s more than I can say for the two leering ass-vampires in front of me.

“Sex doesn’t just happen, Pat,” Dexter says. “First you gotta take off her clothes.”

“Or she does,” Archer interjects. “Let’s not assume little brother knows everything just yet.”

“His first big boy relationship. How sweet.”

“Get fucked. Both of you. With a rusty screwdriver,” I mutter.

“Yeah, and how fucked is she to be with you? What did you do to her, Pat?” Dexter asks. He hasn’t stopped beaming his smarmy grin ever since we walked through the door, arm in arm. “I always thought she was nice and levelheaded. But I guess some chicks have a few hidden buttons, if the right screwball comes around and pushes them just right—”

“Enough,” I snarl.

“Dex is right, I just can’t see it. Salem’s smart, organized, and easy on the eyes, and she’s with you?” Archer squints at me. “Did you pay her?”

“Boys!” Juniper’s nose wrinkles as she steps out on the porch. “You’re talking this much crap before dinner? Can we be civilized for one evening?”

“He deserves it,” Dexter says, receiving a smack across the head for his trouble.

Thankfully, Junie isn’t pulling any punches tonight.

I owe her.

“While I don’t doubt Patton’s been a royal pain in the ass in the past,” she says, giving me a narrow-eyed look I definitely deserve, “he’s bringing a girl around for the first time. So be nice.”

“You don’t need to whisper,” I say. “I’m right here.”

“Oh, I know. I need someone around who can enjoy a dessert that’s not eighty percent cocoa.” Smiling, Junie holds out a tray of her usual delectable cupcakes. “The two on the end are for Dex. They have about as much sweetness as he does, which is absolutely none right now. The rest are for the fam and our guests.” She holds up a finger. “If you guys can play nice.”

“Aw, Junie.” Archer grabs the fattest cupcake on the end, stuffing it into his mouth. “We always play nice. Stick around and learn.”

“Well, I’m just glad Patton found someone who likes him,” she continues.

Ouch.

I nab a cupcake, happy for the distraction. “I’m still right here, you know.”

“Yes, you are,” Junie says, leveling a finger at me. “And you listen to me, Mr. Patton. If you even consider breaking that poor girl’s heart, I will cut off your balls and put them in a cake.”

That’s weirdly violent for her.

I blink dumbly.

“She means it, too,” Dexter says flatly.

“Of course I do. She’s a nice girl, Pat. Behave yourself.” Junie wags her finger again.

“Goddamn. What’s a guy gotta do around here to convince you I’m serious about her?”

“We know you’re serious. She’s here, isn’t she?” Dexter slides an arm around his wife’s waist, pulling her close. She smiles like he hung the damn stars. “You’ve never brought a girl home before. Not since high school.”

“I didn’t bring Vanessa over for a date,” I say. “Not to meet Mom, anyway.”

“No, you brought her over to fuck in your room—only Mom came home too soon.” Archer doesn’t laugh much, but tonight he makes an exception.

Junie clucks her tongue with disapproval, but her lips quirk up.

“Are you boys going back to being crude before I even leave?”

“Sweetheart, we have to start early,” Dexter says with his married man shit-eating grin. She slaps his shoulder and makes her way back inside, leaving the cupcakes with us on a small metal end table.

Sometimes I don’t know how he ever poached a girl who can meet him head-on and cook. I used to think it wasn’t fair.

Now, with Salem in the mix, I’m not begrudging my own luck.

Archer leans over and flicks me between the eyes.

I swing at him and barely miss.

“What the hell was that for?”

“Stop thinking about her. You get the wolfiest look on your face,” Archer says, rolling his eyes. He’s the only one of us left still fanatically single.

For the first time, Dexter doesn’t join in beyond chortling.

Probably because he’s also guilty of having stupid looks on his face whenever he thinks about Junie.

I take an angry bite of my cupcake—strawberry and chocolate today—grateful for the burst of flavor to drown out their bullshit.

It’s almost obscenely sweet, and that’s how I like it.

“I should check on Mom,” I growl, taking Junie’s exit as an escape opportunity.

My brothers shrug and go back to talking about new real estate prospects around town as I head inside.

All shit flinging aside, I think I got lucky.

When I showed up with Salem and Arlo in tow, Mom could’ve made this hard.

In fact, I expected her to say something—or at least have me introduce Salem as my girlfriend—but Mom just pulled her into a big, silent hug and that was that.

Maybe it was the dress.

It’s nice enough for the occasion, but it still accents my woman so well I can’t wait to rip it right off her. Especially after that ridiculous call with her so-called friend, but we were pressed for time and Arlo was already bouncing off the walls.

I hear voices and head through to the sunroom at the end of the house.

Outside, it’s still so cool this place feels drafty, but Mom doesn’t believe in practicality. She worships atmosphere.

For a second, I linger in the doorway, just watching them.

My family.

Even the thought makes my throat tighten.

There’s little Arlo, playing with an old set of army men and military vehicles I used to own when I was a kid. He rams a plastic tank through a group of blue soldiers and dammit, I can’t help but smile.

Have you ever felt like you’re seeing a memory made flesh?

That’s me right now, awestruck at how much Rory blood is really in the kid’s veins. He’s just missing an older asshole brother or two to come screaming in at the last second with their plastic jets firing spring-loaded missiles.

Junie and Salem are on the sofa together. Like any good woman willing to shack up with Dexter, she took Salem under her wing immediately.

Evelyn Hibbing sits with Mom on the other sofa, sipping a negroni and chatting away. She’ll likely hang around for a few more weeks while Minnesota thaws enough for her liking.

If that isn’t picturesque enough, Mom strung up fairy lights. The place glows with this cozy lantern orange that shines off Salem’s hair.

Honest to God, I could stare at her forever.

“Patton?” Mom says, and I blink, dragging my gaze off Salem’s slow smile to Mom’s knowing grin. “Don’t just stand there gawking. Come join us.”

“Mr. Patman! Come play.” Arlo leaps up and takes my hand, dragging me over to his miniature battlefield. “You can be the tanks,” he tells me, grabbing a big artillery piece a couple feet away.

“So you think the name fits, huh?”

Arlo laughs, too oblivious for the history lesson I’m hinting at. When he’s older, I think he’ll learn to appreciate George S. Patton like my old man taught me.

Another family quirk. My namesake comes from a great uncle who served as one of the general’s right-hand officers in Europe, but that’s a story for another day.

Putting on my game face, I try to live up to the name, steering the tanks into a tactical position, only for Arlo to stop me and move them back into the open.

“I can’t see them when they’re back there! How’re they gonna shoot bad guys?” he asks. Infallible logic.

“They’ll attack when the enemy gets closer. Tanks need better range and a good line of sight to hurt the enemy. Trust me. Did you know I was named after a famous general?” I ask as Arlo makes explosion noises, standing over the blue soldiers lined up against us.

I think I lose a tank and fire back.

The boy knocks over a mess of soldiers, clapping his hands in delight.

“Have you learned about World War II yet, Arlo?” And what do I know about age-appropriate history?

“World War II? Yeah, the movies.”

“You know how big it was and how many men fought, then,” I tell him. I smile and crouch down next to him. “Lots of folks had relatives in the war. Even you—probably.”

I add the last word as an afterthought, despite knowing he’s too young to guess any hidden meanings.

Hell, it’s right at the tip of my tongue, aching to tell him the truth about his family. About his father. About me.

But he purses his lips and stops making battle noises as he looks at me. I’m not sure he understands.

For the hundredth time, I’m dumbstruck by how close his eyes are to mine—and how stupid it is that I didn’t notice before.

Then again, no one else here has mentioned it yet.

Or maybe they’re afraid to contemplate a world where I’m insta-dad.

“What about you?” he asks. “Were you in the war?”

I chuckle and ruffle his hair.

“Nah, the great big world wars were before my time. I’m not that old. And not a soldier, kid. I had a brief stint in the Navy instead. I like to think it helped straighten me out and built a little character.” I point at his ships a little farther away, mostly old battleships modeled on the type from the First World War.

As a kid, I thought all ships were still like that. I was disappointed when I enlisted and found out battleships were long obsolete, and the average aircraft carrier mainly serves as a floating airbase for distant missions in combat a sailor never sees firsthand.

“You were on ships?”

“Yeah. A destroyer escort. We sailed around with a big group of ships to help protect the carrier, where the jets take off.”

“Wow, cool! You should be the ships.” He waves me over to the toy ships. I pick up the battleship and smile, fond memories rushing back. “Was it fun?” he asks.

“The Navy? If you like waking up at six a.m. and busting your butt past sunset, it was a blast. Makes the rest of life seem easier, though.”

“Did you go on sailing ships?”

“Not often, but I trained on them briefly.” I try to hide the melancholy in my tone.

It was an odd time in my life, finishing growing up alone with no father. My older brothers had already moved out.

Whether I knew it or not, I was quietly reeling from Dad’s death. I thought sailing around the world might hold some answers, but the constant training and the isolation from family didn’t help much with loneliness.

It just kept me out of trouble and molded me into the playboy idiot I became when I came home. But a playboy idiot with an ironclad work ethic.

“But you’re not a sailor now,” Arlo says curiously. “You’re a boss. Mommy told me.”

“Your mommy knows a lot of things. Listen to her.”

“Okay!” He turns back to his blue soldiers again, slowly reforming them in a neat line.

While he’s distracted, I head over to the sofa beside Salem, but Evelyn catches my eye first and gestures me over to a cabinet where Mom keeps the good booze. There’s a half-empty wine bottle sitting on top of it.

What I want more than anything is to sit down next to my frigging girlfriend, but apparently that’s too much to ask.

A quick drink never hurt anyone, though, so I meet her beside the bottle and pour us both a glass. She’s dressed up tonight, wearing large gold earrings.

“Patton, darling.” She accepts the glass with a clink of bracelets. “Don’t you look handsome? It’s so wonderful to see you boys together again.”

“Thanks, Evelyn.” I submit to her perfumed kiss.

“Oh, and I wondered when you might introduce her. Doesn’t it feel better to come out in the open and leave all the games behind you?”

I smile.

Technically, I never got the chance to make much introduction.

Mom started treating Salem like family the second she was through the door. Even now, I can see from the set of Salem’s shoulders that if she’s not quite relaxed, she’s not feeling the near-panic she was before we showed up.

“It’s new to us. Didn’t want to rush anything,” I say, sipping my wine. Compared to the beer I finished outside, it’s fruity and sweet.

“Of course, of course. But anyone with eyes can see you both have real affection for each other. It’s charming, just like with my dear Walt back in better times…” She sighs. Her eyes glisten as she shakes her head. “But that’s enough of that. I hoped I could catch you alone, Patton.”

I cock my head.

“Sure, what’s up?”

“I meant—oh, dear, I meant somewhere a tad more private, if it’s not too much trouble? Do you have a minute?”

What now?

I glance back at Salem, who’s listening to Mom talk about her recipe arsenal like they’ve known each other forever. I’m sure she can handle herself for a few more minutes.

“All right. Why don’t we head into the office?”

“Perfect idea!” She leads the way, slipping away from the room so quietly it’s entirely possible no one sees us leaving.

Arlo stays engrossed in his army men. I notice the ships started winning since I left the game and hold back a smile.

The office is a small room that’s really more of a backup for any kind of work. Really, when there’s any real work or reading to do, we always preferred the library with its overstuffed chairs, massive antique desk, and potent smell of old books. Mom sometimes uses this room to send a quick email, but besides that, the computer would be collecting dust if my mother wasn’t such a clean freak.

“I’m really sorry to pull you away like this,” Evelyn says as soon as the door’s closed. She smooths down her dress. “The thing is, well… I’ve been talking to Archer and he’s great, but I wanted to speak with you about the property.”

My blood drops a few degrees.

Is she going to back out? That would be surprising, knowing how much she wants this to go ahead, but in business you can’t take anything for granted.

“Of course. What’s on your mind?”

She hesitates, her eyes flicking away from me to the window.

“Oh, it’s all so embarrassing, but the offer—the payment schedule, I mean—it’s all so generous.” She gives me a pained smile.

“I’m sensing there’s another but coming, so let’s hear it,” I urge.

“Yes, well… I’m afraid it just isn’t going to cut it, even with the incredibly kind renovation investment you’ve offered. See, that would do it for the pilot property, but for me?” She sighs and then clears her throat loudly, clasping her hands tightly. “Please don’t think ill of me—though I won’t blame you if you do. I have debts, Patton. Little things I thought I could manage that just kept snowballing hungry monsters. Walt’s medical bills, they put me in a bad place, and—” She clears her throat, wincing. “Lord knows I’ve tried to make it work. I’ve tried a thousand times, but the numbers just don’t add up and there’s never enough money.”

Oh, shit.

I guess I should’ve seen this coming.

I nod firmly, keeping my face neutral.

She grabs my hands then, digging her fingers into the meat of my palms.

“Please don’t tell Delly, dear? If she ever found out, I’d die.”

“No, Evelyn. Your secret’s safe with me,” I say, wondering how it came to this. Yes, I’m the brother who agreed to hear her out and who got the ball rolling, but we make decisions about the company as a team.

If she’s coming to me because I seem like the softer one, she’s right.

Archer wouldn’t agree to commit another dollar to this experiment.

In fact, I’m surprised he agreed to the upfront investments at all. Any big profits we make off this will be far down the line, if they materialize at all.

“Forgive me. I know this is awkward,” she whispers, her voice shrinking with every word. “And I’m dreadfully sorry for springing this on you tonight. The thing is, now Delly’s greenhouse is almost ready for spring, and I need to get back home soon.”

“Sure, I figured you would.”

She sighs, her eyes glassy and distant.

“Truth be told, I can’t say I’m looking forward to going back—it’s so cold there, you know. It’ll be a couple more months before I can start doing anything outside. But it’s time to go home. Your mom has been so wonderful for letting me crash here so long.”

“She doesn’t mind. She loves the company. I’m sure she’d keep you if she could.”

Evelyn laughs, shrill and sudden, wiping at one eye.

“I’m so glad to hear that. And I know you’re right. It just helps to have reassurance.” Her smile hangs on her face. Sad, almost broken.

Damn.

I’m not the touchy-feely type or the kind who’d win any awards in empathy, but I hold out a hand as she gets up to leave.

I know what she’s asking, even if she’s too ashamed to come out and say it.

“Look, I can’t commit company money,” I tell her sternly. “That’s not something I could do on my own, no matter how much I might want to. However, what I can offer is a personal loan. Purely between you and me. Whatever you need to get your life back on track beyond the deal with Higher Ends. Once you’re in better shape, we can take it out of your cut from the cabin fees, if you’d like to do it that way. Once they’re up and running, of course.”

“Oh! Oh, really?” She blinks rapidly, breaking into the strangest smile. “Patton Rory, you wonderful man—that’s too kind!”

She flings herself forward, smothering my cheeks in old lady kisses.

Chuckling, I push away as she laughs along with me.

But her smile fades a second later.

“I must ask again, you wouldn’t mind keeping this between us, would you? The others, I’m not sure they’d understand. And poor Delly, you know how she is! She’ll start giving away your inheritance if she thinks I’m in trouble.”

“Already done,” I say. “How much do you need?”

“Oh, not too much, I hope. Although…” She hesitates, wincing again, sucking her thin cheek into her mouth awkwardly. Her skin seems so slack it makes a flapping sound.

“Evelyn, come on. I deal with big figures all the time. Don’t be afraid.”

“Yes, I know it’s just a few—well—”

“Is twenty thousand enough?” I pull out my wallet and my checkbook. She stares at me. “Forty?”

Again, that pained smile.

I try not to sigh, unsure if I’m feeling bad for her or legitimately surprised she needs so much for living expenses.

“Could we round up a touch? An even six digits will do.”

A hundred thousand dollars?

Whatever.

I hide my surprise as I pull out a pen and my checkbook, quickly scribbling out the amount.

“Here you are. Let me know if you need more.”

Her hand shakes as she takes the check I hold out.

“You’re so generous, young man. So human.” I’m a little concerned she’s about to start ugly crying, so I pat her on the back and motion to leave.

“I should probably get back to Salem and help her with Arlo before someone trips on his army men.”

“Of course, of course! You’re a natural with the little boy, by the way. I can’t wait for the wedding, Pat.” She scurries to her feet with a wink and throws open the door for me like I’m some sort of king.

It’s a little disturbing, honestly, the way she needs to grovel like I’m her very own guardian angel. I’ve handed out business loans and attended my share of charity events, but this feels more personal.

I’m relieved when I find Salem just up the hall. Her face clears when she sees us coming, and Evelyn hurries forward, her hand outstretched.

“I never did tell you, dearie,” she says as Salem gives her a hand—and me a confused look. “You make such a perfect match with Patton, and your little boy looks cute enough to eat right up!”

“Thank you,” Salem says, flashing me an amused look. Evelyn pats her cheek and continues on with a spring in her step. Salem looks up at me. “What was that all about?”

“Oh, she just wanted to ask for a favor.”

“What favor? The Minnesota deal again?” She frowns, the corners of her mouth pulling down.

“Don’t worry about it. It’s under control,” I say with a smile.

To my surprise, Salem doesn’t smile back.

She just tugs at her wrap, pulling it down her arms to cover them. For the first time, I wonder why she left the others.

“Care for a walk?” I ask, offering her my arm. “It’s pretty mild outside.”

Her gaze flicks to my face and away again. “You don’t have to do this. It’s supposed to be a family dinner.”

“If Mom wants to complain, there’s plenty of that to go around with her other two sons. Hell, we’ll probably find them out there too.”

After another second of hesitation—just long enough for me to wonder if she’s really okay—she slides her hand through my arm and follows me down the hall to the side door leading into the backyard.

The stars are underwhelming tonight. The Utah desert will always put Kansas City’s clouds and light pollution to shame, but Salem still tips her head back and inhales the evening air with a smile.

“Want to tell me what’s wrong?” I ask. “If you like, we can walk over to that bench first.”

For the first time, a smile touches her lips, and she nods at the bench.

“It’s my dad’s old spot,” I explain as we get closer. “He used to love sitting here. He was big into poetry and history books when he wasn’t busy with numbers. He’d waste away whole evenings with a book in his hand, always somewhere else.”

“You should read more like your dad,” she says, hesitating next to the bench. “But do you really want to sit—”

“Yes. Come sit, Salem.” I pull her down on the cool metal next to me. Dew glimmers everywhere in the evening, coating the faint outlines of budding trees.

Normally, I don’t linger around Dad’s old brooding spot much.

I have to admit, there’s something calming about being outside tonight—or maybe it’s just her. The air isn’t fragrant yet like it’ll be come summer, but it cools my skin and gives me space, a distance I appreciate from the enormous house I grew up in.

“I don’t know how to explain it,” Salem says quietly, tracing the floral patterns on her dress. Goosebumps dot her arms, but she doesn’t move like she’s cold.

Instead, she spreads her fingers, inviting the air in to cool her skin.

“Has someone made you feel like you don’t belong? Is it Archer?”

“No, nothing like that. Everyone’s been so nice. Too nice, maybe. But I guess that’s the issue…” She looks at me slowly. “You have such a lovely family. For me, that’s pretty alien.”

With my gaze smoldering, I take her hand.

“Don’t be afraid. Whatever happened with your folks, it won’t happen again. We don’t send family packing into exile.”

I shake my head, holding back the curses her parents deserve. How could they do that shit to their own daughter?

And all because she wouldn’t give up a kid they felt was a wrench being tossed into their little lives?

People are strange fucking birds sometimes.

They can also change, and not always for the better. Thankfully, it hasn’t happened much in my own family. I can see how foreign that might be to Salem.

Look at Dex, the ultimate workaholic human android before Junie.

Archer, he’s so reserved he’d make a fridge magnet look outgoing.

Me, I’m the risk-taker. Shallow and self-centered, or so everyone says.

Mom, she’s the glue holding us together, but not because we need it.

“What was so bad about it all? The unfamiliarity?” I ask gently.

“Nothing. Nothing bad, I just…” She looks at me, her eyes wide with dark feelings pooling in this light. “I was talking about the future and your mom started showing me some antique jewelry after I talked about looking up inspiration for art and décor at future properties.”

“And?”

She hesitates, sighing loudly.

“Don’t you get it, Patton? We’re bound to disappoint them, disappoint her, once the truth comes out. We’re basking in all these smiles and glitzy stuff and it’s all going to come crashing down.”

I don’t understand the tension in her voice.

“Why? Because my mother showed you some old jewelry and you talked about the future?”

“Because good things don’t last! Not for me. Not for a black cat.”

“Lady Bug, fuck.” I take her icy hands in mine.

All of her feels cold, really, but she’s too stubborn to admit it and let me warm her.

“Good things do happen,” I tell her, trying to be gentle but I’m growling anyway. That’s what she needs right now, a gentle touch, even if it’s frustrating as hell to have to convince her she deserves better than she’s gotten before.

“I wish I had your confidence.” She sighs again.

“Salem, look up.” I wait for her eyes to meet mine before I say, “The good things are coming. We’re living them right now. You deserve them.”

She presses my hands to her lips, a kiss like spring rain.

“Yeah, you’re right. I know you are even if I don’t want to believe it,” she whispers. “Thank you.”

“You’re being ridiculous, you know. All everybody talks about is how great we look together. My brothers can’t believe I scored a woman like you.”

She laughs harshly.

Let her wonder. If they weren’t being real, they wouldn’t have ripped the shit out of me over it.

“Now stop brooding and put this on.” I shrug off my jacket and drape it over her shoulders. “It’s been a good night. My mom loves you. She loves Arlo. You’ve made friends with Junie, and you know what would make it better?”

“What?” Her hot tears shock me when I feel their heat, clinging to her face like rain glazing the trees.

“If we told Arlo. End our night on a high note.”

“Hmm… yeah.” She swallows and looks away, considering it. “It would be a big finish.”

I wait, but she doesn’t say yes.

Fuck.

Look, I get that I’m throwing one more big wild card her way when she’s in an environment where she’s second-guessing everything.

I’m also one impatient prick.

“I take it that’s a no,” I say flatly, keeping the irritation out of my voice.

“I’m sorry, Patton. It just feels too soon. I promise we’ll do it soon, when we can figure it out.”

“When it isn’t soon at all, you mean.” Like I said. Prick.

I resist the urge to curse and stare at the house. I know I’m throwing a fucking tantrum and I hate myself for it.

But hell, if we told everyone about Arlo—if we told Arlo about me—we could go that extra step, starting a new chapter.

We could be something greater than the lonely, doubtful creatures we’ve been for too long.

My ass hurts. It’s like my dad’s old bench wants to add insult to injury, a rough spot in the weathered metal rubbing on my hip.

Salem slides an arm around my neck and presses her body against mine.

Usually, that’s enough to soften me up—or harden me, if I’m being honest—but now I’m not in the mood, even with her in that airy dress.

“I’m sorry. I don’t want to disappoint you,” she murmurs, kissing my cheek. “I know you want him to know, and he will. He’s just at an age where we have to be careful.”

“He’s brighter than you think,” I snap. My shoulders slump a second later. “Sorry. I don’t mean to be harsh. I just hate the years I’ve wasted without my son, and we need to make up for lost time.”

“We will.” She kisses me again. At least her lips are getting warmer now. “I’m the problem, Patton. I admit it. It’s not just his reaction I’m worried about. It’s losing this—losing you—when it’s all so new. Can we please just have a little time? Just so I can be sure.”

With a hand on her waist, I ease her back.

“I understand. This shit will shake up our lives permanently, no question. But I love the little man. And I want him to have a family. A real proper family beyond his mother, Salem, with everybody in this house knowing there’s a new little Rory to spoil.”

Her eyes twinkle as she pulls away.

“You love Arlo, huh?”

I blink at her.

“He’s my son, Salem. Of course I do.” The other words—the same ones for her—stop dead on my tongue.

Shit, maybe it really is too soon.

Now isn’t the moment. I can feel it in my skin.

And maybe I’m more like her than I think, holding back for the perfect opportunity, even if it’s hard to imagine.

Regardless, that perfect moment, that massive declaration, it isn’t happening tonight. That doesn’t make us bad people. It just makes me conflicted.

“I’m going back inside to talk to Mom,” I say. “Stay out here as long as you like. Keep the jacket.”

“Patton—”

“Think about what you want,” I tell her. “Because I already know.”

When I reach the door, I look back to see her huddled into my coat, too large over her slim shoulders.

She’s staring at the sky again with a look that’s way too much like I remember my old man wearing as the clouds move in, covering the tinsel stars.

Yeah, it’s hardly just Salem being ridiculous tonight.

I snort at my own stupidity and close the door.