Chapter 36
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
VALEN
Agnes stands on the front porch with Pops, Moose, and at least four other people I vaguely recognize as dark clouds roll in overhead.
They’re all staring at my car like a welcoming committee that can’t decide if they want to hug me or murder me.
Considering they all love and adore Clover, it could go either way.
I park and step out, but my mind is still on my Honeybee.
She flew to Charlotte. She got on a plane—something she wouldn’t do just a short time ago even with me and Chief by her side. And she did it for me.
“Where is she?” I demand, spinning in a circle, searching for one of my cousins. They’re probably the only ones willing to give me any answers.
Agnes huffs as though annoyed, but there’s a quirk to her lips too. “She’s on a flight home.”
“Already? On her own?” The words burn on their way out. I was expecting to hop on a flight to go get her.
“Two flights in one day,” Pops confirms, rocking on his heels. He’s wearing overalls again, but at least this time he has a shirt on under them. “Should be landing in Brunswick in about an hour.”
Twice. She got on a plane twice.
The woman who won’t drive, who counts to stay calm, who lives inside a bubble where she controls the variables—surrendered all that. Twice.
“I need to go to her—”
“No, you don’t.” Moose’s deep voice cuts through my plans. He steps forward, blocking my path to my car with his considerable bulk. “Braxton’s picking her up. If you leave now, you’ll just miss each other again.”
“He’s right,” Agnes says, patting my hand, and I decide I’m all in on the grandmotherly affection—even if her eyeball is still giving me the stink eye. “Best thing to do is stay put and wait for her to come to you.”
Stay put.
It’s a foreign concept. I don’t…stay put. I move. I act. I solve problems and eliminate threats. Staying put is…difficult.
But they’re also right.
“Fine,” I say through gritted teeth. Once again, I’m pissed off at myself. “I’ll wait.”
Pops’s laughter is loud and obnoxious. “Like he had any other choice.”
That fucking dark sedan rolls slowly past, instantly causing my shoulder muscles to bunch.
It’s the same one whose plates I ran not that long ago, but even knowing who it is, thanks to that damn text tree, does nothing to erase the memory of the fear that old bastard caused with his late-night donut runs.
Old instincts are hard to extinguish.
My brow twitches as Monty, the new neighbor, waves on his way by. One of these days, I just might tell his wife that he sits in his car eating donuts in the middle of the night to repay him for nearly giving me a heart attack.
Not every shadow is a threat, I remind myself. Some are just annoying neighbors.
Agnes’s guffaw could power a small city, and I cringe when I look down to find her laughing at me. “Leave Monty be—he didn’t know he was causing you anxiety. Now go on inside. Betty’ll make you a plate.”
“I’m not hungry.”
She hooks her arm through mine with surprising strength and ushers me toward the inn. “Wasn’t asking. You look like you haven’t had a proper meal in days, and we’re going to fix that. Now.”
I look to Moose for help over my shoulder.
He shrugs. “Resistance is futile, son. Trust me. We’ve all tried.”
“Where is everyone else?” I ask. I don’t need backup, but I was hoping to see my cousins. They might have to carry my sorry ass out of here later if Clover doesn’t forgive me.
“Well, damnedest thing,” Agnes says. “Braxton offered to drive, but Madi and Savvy wanted to go check on Clover, which meant Greyson had to go too. Then Grant said he should go to make sure the commentary stayed…fair, on the drive home. Somehow, Chase called shotgun, but Roman was already in the passenger seat, and Sterling didn’t want to be left out. ”
“Eight adults went to pick up Clover? There won’t even be a seat left for her,” I say.
Moose laughs. It’s loud and boisterous. “That’s when the real chaos began. It was like watching monkeys in a clown car. Luckily, one of your guys rolled up with the RV just this morning.”
That goddamn mobile command center is still the bane of my existence. But if it brings Clover home to me, I’ll never say a bad word about it again.
“Come on.” Agnes shoves me into the inn, and five minutes later, I’m sitting at Madi’s kitchen island, surrounded by more food than even a small army could consume.
Apparently, Betty from the diner commandeered the inn’s kitchen the moment she heard about our star-crossed lovers' moment.
Laid out before me is fried chicken, mashed potatoes, green beans that have been cooked with enough bacon to give a cardiologist nightmares, three different casseroles, and an apple pie that’s still steaming from the oven.
“Eat,” Betty commands.
My hunger pangs grow claws with my first bite, and begrudgingly, I smile at her. I was starving under all that heartache.
Pops settles into the chair across from me, glaring while I shovel food into my mouth. “You came back.”
“I came back,” I confirm around a mouthful of potatoes that taste like buttery heaven.
“Didn’t think ya would. Bet Chief that you’d run all the way to Mexico.” He squints at me. “Chief didn’t think ya were the running type, though. Said you’re a brooder who needed space to get his head out of his ass. You cost me twenty bucks, pal.”
I’d laugh if I didn’t think he was actually sour about losing the money.
“I fucked up. I’m here to fix it.”
“Good.” Pops nods once and then relaxes as though being a hard-ass was taking all his strength.
“’Cause that girl’s been through enough.
She doesn’t need a man who can’t figure out what he wants.
What she needs is someone willing to adapt to the life she’s built.
Someone who’ll help her grow without holding her back. ”
I set down my fork. “I’ve always known what I want.”
“Do you?” he challenges. “Because wanting Clover means wanting all this too.” He gestures at the kitchen and the town beyond the window. “She’s not just a woman, son. She’s a package deal. You want her, you get all of us too.”
He crosses his arms over his chest, daring me to contradict him.
Beside us, Betty is already packing up leftovers, muttering about how skinny I am. Through the window, I can see Moose talking to Agnes on the sidewalk while holding her damn pig by a leash.
Six months ago, this would’ve felt like chaos. Like a security nightmare. Like everything I’ve always avoided.
Now it feels like home.
“I want the package, Pops.” I stare him dead in the eye. “All of it.”
He studies me for a long moment, then grins. It’s a slightly concerning expression that makes me understand why Greyson calls him a menace.
“Good answer, boy. Now finish your food. We’ve got plans to discuss.”
“Plans?” I ask, happy to lift my fork again.
The kitchen door bangs open before he can answer, and Agnes shuffles in, trailing behind her disgruntled potbelly pig who’s dragging her along by a rhinestone leash.
“In here,” she announces to no one in particular. “I told you the cards were right. The Tower reversed—transformation through crisis. And look!” She gestures at me with a gnarled hand. “Transformed.”
I have no idea how to respond to this, so I shovel in a bite of mac and cheese.
“Agnes,” Betty sighs. “We talked about bringing Pothole into food prep areas.”
“He’s emotional support,” Agnes says dismissively. “Madi helped me get the paperwork and everything. Besides, he wanted to greet the boy. Didn’t you, Pothole?”
The pig makes a sound that could either be agreement or gas. It’s hard to say.
Agnes settles into the chair next to mine, close enough that I can smell lavender and something vaguely medicinal and definitely minty. She squints at me with eyes that don’t quite track together—her glass eye less terrifying than the first time I saw it—and hums thoughtfully.
“Your aura’s better,” she says. “Last time I saw you, it was all muddy. Brown and gray, like a storm cloud with diarrhea. “Now it’s…” She tilts her head. “Still stormy. But there’s some gold in there. That’s love. Gold is always love.”
“Thank you?” I never know how to respond to this woman.
“Don’t thank me yet.” She pats my hand with surprising gentleness. “You’ve still got work to do. But you’re here. That’s step number one.”
“Agnes is our resident psychic,” Pops reminds me, as if I could ever forget.
“I prefer intuitive,” Agnes corrects. “Psychic sounds so dramatic.”
She’s wearing a caftan embroidered with moons and stars, shuffling around with a pig she walks on a rhinestone leash. But sure. Psychic is the dramatic part.
The swinging kitchen door crashes open again.
“Good, you’re here,” Chief says as if we had an appointment. But he won’t quite meet my eye. “Ben, show him the plans.”
“Plans? What plans?” I ask, still trying to catch his eye. Chief is pissed off and hurt, and I hate that I’ve done this to him.
Ben—who I’m now realizing is the realtor responsible for Clover landing on R&R Road, unrolls blueprints onto the island, right on top of my half-empty plate.
“So,” he says, pointing at the drawings, “the duplex is currently two separate units with a shared wall, but it started as a single-family home. Converting it back is pretty straightforward. We’ll knock out this wall here, open up the kitchen, and suddenly, you’ve got a four-bedroom, three-bath home with plenty of space for—”
“Wait.” I hold up a hand. “What are you talking about?”
Chief glares at me as though I’m being deliberately obtuse. “The duplex. Clover’s place. You’ll need to expand it when you move in. The current layout doesn’t make sense for a couple, and once you start having kids—”
“Kids?” My voice squeals like Pothole’s. “I don’t even know if she’s going to take me back yet.”
Betty drops a spatula right before Agnes sideswipes my head with the back of her hand.
“She flew. On an airplane. Twice.” Chief says.
“That doesn’t mean— She—” My throat is thick, and my palms are sweaty.