“Give Sarah a minute. We don’t want to start without her,” Jojo said to my stepfather.

  “I’ll go check on her,” my mom said, then swung her eyes in my direction with a disapproving glance that confused the hell out of me.

  What was I missing? Where were Sarah and Oakley?

  “Is Sarah okay?” I asked, starting to stand up.

  My mom paused at the door. “She’s just gone to wash her face. Oakley having to leave was hard on her.”

  Oakley had to leave? Fuck!

  “Why did Oakley have to leave?” I asked, walking around the table, feeling like a damn caged animal, unsure of where to go or what to do next.

  “She had to get to Thanksgiving with her family,” my mother said, but she looked at me with an accusatory glare. “At least, that was what she said. But seeing as I have met that family and Oakley looked ready to burst into tears, I don’t believe her. Which leads me to point my finger at you, since Oakley was happy as a peach before your arrival.”

  Mom was quick. Way too intuitive. She always had been. It was her gift in life.

  “Damn it, boy. Did she hear you rattling off about her in the living room? I sure hope not. That girl is too sweet, and it hurts my ticker to think she might have heard that nonsense,” Porter said.

  Mom’s hand sprang out and grabbed my bicep. “What did you say, Wilder Noah Jones?!” she demanded angrily.

  “Ouch. She is using the middle name. You need to run, man,” Scott piped up, sounding amused.

  “Nothing important,” I said, trying to pull free but without success. “Mom, I need to go check on Sarah. Oakley has upset her by leaving.”

  My mom’s nails bit into my skin. “Son, you listen to me right now, and you listen good. Oakley isn’t at fault here. She has been wounded on a deep level. That family of hers is some of the worst sort. They don’t even talk about her as if she is a part of them. I witnessed it with my own eyes at the funeral back in August. It broke my heart for her then, and I didn’t even know her. But today, she walked into this house with that gorgeous smile, and she helped me cook, wash dishes, taught Sarah how to set a table properly—”

  “Don’t forget, she decorated the turkey up so pretty that I had to take pictures to send to my daughter in Oklahoma,” Mrs. Jojo interrupted.

  Mom nodded. “That too. She is absolutely as beautiful on the inside as she is on the outside. Then, you showed up, and she suddenly had to leave. The first I heard of it all day. You did something, and you’d better fix it. She’s exactly what Sarah needs. Sylvia was never a mother to that child, but I see now why Sarah is undamaged because of it. Oakley is the reason. She was the one to stand in the gap, and she filled it up so that Sarah had all she needed.” Mom jammed the tip of her finger into my chest. “And I won’t let you take that away from her. Now, go fix what you did and pray that girl has somewhere to go for Thanksgiving when she gets home because if she doesn’t, you’re not getting one bite of my dressing.”

  Scott let out a low whistle, which I ignored.

  Hearing my mom talk about Oakley was all I needed to push the rest of the jaded fog from the past away so that I could see her clearly. Mom was right. Oakley wasn’t the girl who had crushed me. She was a woman. A real damn good one. I just didn’t know what to do with that. How to handle it. Because if I let myself acknowledge that Oakley was everything Mom had just said, then my heart was in danger. Again.

  By the only female in the world to ever bring me to my knees.

  “Whatever he needs to do so we can start eating before I starve to death would really be appreciated,” Porter said loudly.

  My mom stepped out of my way and waved a hand for me to go check on Sarah. I moved past her as the heavy weight on my chest just got worse.

  “Go ahead and butter you a roll and eat it,” Mom told Porter.

  “What about me?” Scott asked, sounding whiny as fuck.

  “You too. And … and you too, uh … sweetie,” she replied.

  Mom couldn’t remember Scott’s date’s name, yet she had just halted Thanksgiving and threatened me after praising the ground Oakley walked on.

  No matter where she went, Oakley Jones stood out. She made an impression. And it wasn’t because of the way she looked. Mom was right, dammit.

  Sarah appeared through the doorway with Belladonna glued to her side. Her red-rimmed eyes looked up at me. I’d not only hurt Oakley. I had hurt Sarah too. If I hadn’t lied and said that shit in the living room, then Oakley wouldn’t have left. Sarah wouldn’t be crying.

  This was my fault. All of it.

  “Hey, sweetheart,” I said, squatting down to her level. “It’s Thanksgiving. No tears.”

  She sniffled, and then her mouth turned down in the saddest expression I’d ever fucking seen.

  “Oaky left,” she said softly. “And I don’t know why. She said it was because she had to go to Gran and Pop’s, but I know she was lying to me. I’d heard her tell Daphne on the phone that Gran was still mad at her and she wasn’t welcome at their house.”

  I took her hands in mine and held them tightly. “Maybe she had a date with that guy she’s seeing and didn’t want to tell you that was why she was leaving.” It wasn’t a lie.

  He had asked her. I’d heard him over the damn security system, and then like a psycho stalker, I’d interrupted and told her she had plans. I didn’t listen to her conversation with him when we stopped talking. I had forced myself to close the app and walk away from it. Get some space from her. From the way she made me feel.

  Sarah shook her head. “She doesn’t. He texted her again last night, asking if she was sure she couldn’t make it to Thanksgiving dinner tonight. Oaky told him she was positive. She would be here until late. But she’s not, and she has nowhere to go.”

  Because of me. Fuck. I had to fix this. I wasn’t going to be able to eat any of the damn food and enjoy myself while I felt like the shithead I currently was.

  “What if I go talk to her? She has to go by the house to get her things and drop off my Range Rover. I could go catch her there and get her to come back.”

  Sarah’s eyes lit up. “You would go do that?” she asked hopefully.

  “For you, I would do anything.”

  She threw her arms around my neck. “Thank you, Daddy!”

  I hugged her back, and Belladonna started barking. Damn dog was probably giving me her two cents too.

  Twenty-One

  Oakley

  Knowing that Sarah and Wilder wouldn’t be home soon, I took my time packing up, cleaning the kitchen thoroughly, washing the sheets on my bed, then making it up. I didn’t want there to be any mess left for Wilder to blame on me. The next time he went out of town, I wanted him to call me.

  But now that I knew how poorly he thought of me, I wasn’t sure I’d get that call.

  I’d thought having my dad believe the lies my stepmother had told him about me hurt, but today, I’d realized that it was nothing compared to having the only man I had ever loved think awful things about me.

  He and Cleo should start a club. The Oakley Hater Club. They could meet and discuss all my failings, how terrible I was, and plan my demise. If I wasn’t so exhausted from crying, I’d laugh at that.

  Just as I reached the bottom stair with my duffel bag, the front door opened, and Wilder walked inside.

  Crap. Why was he here already? I should have gotten out of here sooner. He was going to be pissed about this.

  “I didn’t steal anything,” I assured him. “There was some cleaning that needed to be done first. But I am heading out now. Your keys are by the door, and your Amex is on the kitchen counter.” I didn’t look at him as I spoke, but stared at the floor in front of me, then began walking toward the open door.

  “Oakley, wait. We need to talk.”

  Oh no, we did not.

  I shook my head. “Wilder, not any more today, okay? Just … not today.”

  He moved to block my path, and I sighed before forcing myself to look up at him. Was he trying to kill me here? Was that his plan? See how far he could push Oakley before she shattered right before his eyes?

  “I came here to apologize for what you’d heard.”

  Not what I’d expected. “You came to apologize for saying it or because I’d heard it?” I asked, unable to mask the pain in my voice.

  “Both. All of it.”

  If his eyes didn’t look so tortured, I wouldn’t believe him. Why was he struggling here? We both knew he’d meant what he said. He hated me. Did it matter anymore? Not really.

  “You’re forgiven. You could have just called though,” I told him. “If you’ll move, I can get out of your house.”

  “Oakley, dammit, let me talk.”

  My eyes snapped from the door behind him back to his face. “I did let you talk,” I replied.

  “I didn’t mean what I said. I lied. I said those things because …” He paused and shoved his fingers into his dark locks with a frustrated frown. “I said them because I wanted to believe them.”

  “Why? So that you have a reason to keep me away from Sarah? That’s cruel, Wilder. She’s all I have.” I choked on the last few words and jerked my eyes off him again to glare at the wall. I was not going to freaking cry again. Not in front of him.

  “No. You’re great with Sarah. You’re exactly what she needs. I’m so fucking thankful that she has you in her life. And, yeah, I hated it. Hated that it had to be you who loved my kid like she was your own. It ate me alive. And I am telling you now that I was wrong, and I am sorry about it. I messed up. I let our past get in my head.”

  I swung my gaze back to his face. The sincerity in his eyes made me weak. Just like his smile made me weak or how one kind word from him or brief moment with him made me stupid. Because I would think there was hope. I’d cling to it, only for it to be snatched away once again.

  “Can you forgive me?” he asked.

  I already had. That was the saddest part about this. There wasn’t much I wouldn’t do for him. Sure, I liked to say that the girl who had fallen madly in love with him was long gone, but it was my lie. She’d been broken, abused, and damaged. She had gotten tough. Found her independence. Fought for a life that she had security in. But she still had one weakness. Wilder.

  “Yes.” That was all I could say. Any more would likely give me away. Show him too much. More than he ever needed or wanted to know.

  His eyes searched my face for something, and I wasn’t sure what it was he wanted. “Come back with me. For Sarah.”

  “Back to your mom’s?” I asked, surprised.

  He nodded. “Unless you have a date you are trying to get to.”

  I wanted to laugh. No, I didn’t because I had wanted to be here. With Sarah … and Wilder.

  I lifted one shoulder. “If you call a bottle of red wine, The Holiday, and my flannel pajamas a date, then, yes, I have one.”

  The corner of his mouth lifted. “You still watch that movie on Thanksgiving?”

  I nodded my head. “Yep. Every year.”

  He pulled his bottom lip into his mouth, then released it. “Tell you what. If you get in that car with me and go back to my mom’s, then Sarah and I will watch it with you here tonight.”

  Had I fallen down the stairs and hit my head? I glanced back at the stairs to see if my body was lying there and this was a hallucination. The floor was empty.

  I turned back to Wilder and stared up at him. “Are you serious?” I asked slowly. Trying to decide if this was a joke of some sort.

  “Very. Come back with me. Please.”

  I held up my bag. “That would be breaking my get the hell out of your sight promise I made. Will I get to come back and stay with Sarah if I do this?”

  A small laugh came from him. “Let’s forget I made you promise that. Okay?”

  I stood there, speechless, then managed to nod.

  “They’re keeping the food warm and waiting on us,” he told me.

  My eyes widened. “They are waiting on me to come back?”

  He nodded. “Yes, they are.”

  I wasn’t sure if he was annoyed by that or not.

  “That’s sweet of them. I thought after what you told Porter and Scott—”

  “That they’d believe my shit and not like you? No go. You’d already gotten there and charmed the fuck out of the whole bunch. If I don’t bring you back, my mother isn’t going to let me eat, and she might never speak to me again.”

  A laugh bubbled out of me. That felt good. No, it was better than good. It was a taste of being wanted.

  Nine Years Ago

  I had no memories of a happy Thanksgiving in this house. All the Thanksgivings I’d had with my mom had been at my grandparents’, and as hard as I tried to hold on to every memory I had of Mom, they were getting harder to remember clearly, the older I got. Asking Dad to talk about her was a mistake I wouldn’t make again. He’d shut down on me for weeks after I brought her up.

  Granny was always willing to tell me stories about my mom and the things she had done with me. It was because of Granny that I had the memories I did. She made sure I didn’t forget her, and Mom hadn’t even been her daughter. My mom had never known her parents, but Dad’s parents loved my mother like she was their own. Granny always said my momma was like a ray of sunshine that could light up any old, dreary day. No matter how bad it was, my momma had brought the happiness with her. I liked to think about that. Especially when the day was as dreary as this one was turning out to be.

  Leaving for college had been hard enough. I missed Wilder every day. Sneaking home without my dad’s permission just to see Wilder last month had made my stepmother furious, and Dad told me not to come home again until I was on a break. By now, it really shouldn’t sting when my dad didn’t want me around, but I wasn’t sure that rejection would ever go away.

  Wilder had been thrilled to see me though. We spent twenty-four amazing hours together. He had refused to do more than kiss me, and he’d sworn it wasn’t because he didn’t want me, but because he was respecting me. Giving me time to grow up more. I was eighteen. How much more grown did I have to be?

  This visit home from college was different though. Just like how his texts and calls had dwindled the past week. Normally, I woke up to a text from him every morning, and we had a video call daily. But this week, we hadn’t had one. He texted me a handful of times, and when I’d asked him if everything was all right, he’d just said he was busy. That was it.

  My stomach had been in knots since I had gotten home last night. I had wanted to come home sooner, but I didn’t have a car, and I had used all my extra money on last month’s bus ticket to come see him. I’d called him when I got here, and he hadn’t answered.

  So, I had been at the mercy of Anthony Jordan to give me a ride on his way home to Atlanta. He was a junior, and I’d met him through my roommate, who had dated him last semester. They weren’t together anymore, but I kept in touch with him because he was the only person I knew at Ole Miss who had a car and lived close enough for me to get a ride back to Madison.

  His work had kept him there until yesterday afternoon, so we hadn’t arrived until late last night. Wilder had replied to my text an hour ago, saying he’d be here in time for Thanksgiving lunch. Cleo always put out a big spread of food at lunch and had her friends over on Thanksgiving. I wanted to have Wilder all to myself, but I knew I was expected to be here for the meal. Not because they wanted to spend time with me, but because it would look bad if I didn’t attend and folks knew I was in town.

  I’d taken extra time to curl my hair and put on some makeup. By the time I was ready and felt as if my reflection was pretty, I headed for the stairs to go down and wait for Wilder. I would ask Cleo if there was something I could do to help, but she would tell me to just stay out of the way. I was so anxious to see him that I decided to wait on the front porch. That way, the moment he drove up, I would be there.

  Sylvia’s bedroom door opened as I passed it, and I forced myself to smile at her. I had managed to avoid both her and Cleo since my arrival last night. Trying with those two was something I’d given up on years ago. They didn’t want me around, and they had been clear on their feelings.

  “Who’s the new boy this week?” Sylvia asked in a sugary-sweet voice that she used when trying to pretend she was nice.

  I frowned. “What?”

  She lifted one of her shoulders. “Some boy brought you home. I just assumed he was this week’s flavor.”

  I stared at her, trying to figure out where she was going with this. She knew Wilder was the only guy I was interested in. I’d faced down her mother over coming to see him last month.

  “Anthony is a friend who lives in Atlanta. He gave me a ride,” I told her, annoyed already.

  “Mmhmm … I’m sure that’s all he is,” she purred.

  I refused to stand here and defend myself to her of all people. Rolling my eyes, I left her there and headed downstairs. If I was lucky, I could make it outside before seeing Cleo.

  I needed Wilder to get here. I needed to see his face and know everything was okay. He was what mattered to me.

  Twenty-Two

  Wilder

  By the time the credits rolled, Sarah was sleeping soundly, her head in Oakley’s lap. Belladonna was at her feet, snoring. Two empty bowls of popcorn, a half-eaten pecan pie, a plate of crumbs from the cookies that had once been there all littered the coffee table. Oakley glanced over at me and smiled. I tried real damn hard not to let it get to me. Platonic was what I was going for with her.

  “You want to wake her or carry her up?” she whispered.

  Belladonna sprang to her feet, as if she were going to be left behind.

  “I’ll carry her. It’s been a long day,” I told her.

  Bending down, I picked Sarah up and cradled her in my arms. It had been a while since I’d held her like this. When I looked down at her, it made me miss the days when she had been little and ache for all the time I hadn’t been there. Only getting her every other weekend hadn’t been nearly enough.