Bringing Home the Bad Boy (Second Chance #1)(76)

Her baby girl’s husband.

Oh gosh.

Sorry, Rae.

“Rae was my best friend,” Charlie had said. “More of a sister than my own was to me. I’d never”—she closed her eyes against the lie and started over—“I didn’t mean to infringe.”

Charlie had looked to Pat, feeling her own face crumpling, then grasped the older woman’s hands. She needed Pat to believe what she had to say. She needed penance, forgiveness… acceptance.

“Pat. This is nothing, I promise. It was something. It was. But now, I’m going to make sure it’s not. I don’t want to jeopardize my relationship with any of you. I’d never dream of hurting you or Cliff or…”

She trailed off when Pat smiled and shook her head.

“Well, I certainly hope that is not true.”

She had blinked up at Rae’s mother, shocked. “Wuh-what part?”

Pat laughed her musical laugh and Charlie had felt her eyebrows slide to center in confusion. “I hope it’s not ‘nothing,’ Charlotte. Those boys love you. All of them.” She tossed a hand toward the hallway. “Including Clifford. And you know how much I love you.”

She did know that. But it was great to hear. “I love you, too,” she said, an emotional edge in her voice.

“Rae’s not here for Evan, baby.” Pat blinked a few times, her eyes not watery, but looking like they might be headed there.

Lord help her, if Pat lost it, so would she.

“I know.”

Pat grasped her hand. “You are here. You are here. Living and breathing and loving them both. I can see that, too.”

She did love them both. More each day.

“I care very much,” she said.

“You love Lyon.”

“Yes, of course.”

“You love Evan.”

Charlie had bitten her lip and swallowed thickly before speaking. “He’s a very good friend.”

Rae’s mother tilted her chin and raised her eyebrows. “You love him, Charlotte.”

Yes. She did. She closed her eyes in a combination of shame and embarrassment.

“I’m glad you have one another.”

“You are?” Charlie sought Pat’s eyes for a sign she wasn’t telling the truth. But Pat always told the truth. That was her way.

“I love you like my own daughter. I have missed you like crazy since you have stayed away. Having you in my home, eating at my table, making my grandson laugh, and putting a smile on the hard face of my son-in-law has made me happier than I’ve been in a long, long time.”

“Pat.” She’d felt her own tears welling. Because it was all too much.

“I know, baby.” She pulled her close and dropped an arm around her shoulder. “It’s hard to imagine us accepting this. Evan was our baby girl’s husband, and we miss Rae. We hurt for him and Lyon as much as we hurt for ourselves. We lost her, and it’s so unfair.”

All this Charlie knew.

“But you lost her, too.” Her hand rubbed circles on Charlie’s back. “You lost her and you deserve to grieve, deserve to heal, and deserve happiness as much as any other member of this family.”

Almost verbatim what Evan had said.

This family. That was nice.

“You make Evan happy,” Pat pointed out.

Charlie’s chest inflated. She liked the idea of making Evan happy. Seeing him happy made her happy.

“Keep making him happy. And come see us more often.” She stood and brushed a hand down her wrinkle-free slacks. “They’re waiting for you in the den. Cliff’s showing off his racecar collection and boring our boys to death.”

Our boys. She liked that, too.

Pat opened the bedroom door and turned before she walked out. “Sandwich for the road?”

“Sure, Pat. Thanks.”

She winked. “You got it, sweetheart.”

Charlie, Evan, and Lyon had eaten their sandwiches on the trip home—ham and cheese on wheat bread, which Lyon hated but Evan made him eat anyway.

Now, the SUV edged down the long, winding road leading back to their houses on Lakeside Avenue.

“Lyon, bud. When we get in, I’m doing laundry, so bring your bag to the laundry room, yeah?”

“Yeah, Dad.”

She wanted to offer to do it for him, but then, they were not on vacation, she reminded herself. And though he had stitches, Lyon was perfectly capable of carrying his backpack into the laundry room.

Evan pulled into her driveway first. “Wait here, bud,” he told Lyon, then got out. She followed.

He lifted the back of the SUV, refusing to let her carry her bag, which wasn’t big or unmanageable. Then he waited while she unlocked her door and followed her in.

He dropped the bag on the chair in the front room and pulled her into his arms, lighting her on fire with a long, slow, wet kiss.

When she pulled back, she realized her fingers were twined in his hair.

“Missed you, Ace,” he growled. “Tonight. Dinner at my place.”

“Evan…”

“I want you to stay the night, too. So when you unpack your bag, pack another.”

She shook her head. “Lyon shouldn’t—”

“He shouldn’t control what we do,” Evan finished for her. “I’ll talk to him when I get home.” His hand skated down her pants and cupped her bottom. With a soft squeeze, he said, “Dinner.”