Honeysuckle Lane (The Valentine Nook Chronicles #3)

Prologue

HENDRICKS

“Hen?”

At the sound of knocking, I turn to find my brother Alex standing at my car window. My eyes meet his, serious and concerned, just like the expression written all over his face as he opens the door.

“What are you doing?”

Swiping a hand under my nose, I open my mouth to speak, but I can’t bring myself to tell him because then it’ll be real. It’s too awful. I don’t even know the words to use.

“Hey, you’re shaking.” Alex gently places his arm around my shoulders and pulls me out of the car. “Come on, come inside. You can tell me what’s wrong.”

It’s only then I realize I’m outside of his cottage, because I have no memory of getting here. Two hours ago, I was in London having a conversation I never expected when I woke up this morning. Autopilot kicked in soon after, bringing me back to the village I grew up in.

Valentine Nook, my favorite place in the whole world.

Alex guides me up the path and inside. We go straight into the kitchen, where he pushes me into a chair.

Switching on the kettle, he sets about making cups of tea and places the biscuit jar on the table.

Inside, I find a packet of chocolate Digestives.

I take two out and stuff them both in my mouth.

I haven’t been to Alex’s in a while, and it always amazes me how neat and tidy he is. Even without his housekeeper, everything would still be immaculate. Everything would have its place.

It’s not a word you could use to describe the cottage where Miles and I live.

It’s clean, thanks to the same housekeeper we share, but it’s only tidy for approximately an hour after she’s left.

My study books and veterinary texts are spread out on the kitchen table because that’s where I like to revise.

The rest of the kitchen is treated as an overflow of the mudroom, where Miles dumps any broken piece of horse tack or polo mallet that he plans to fix but never does.

It’s currently going through the longest tidy stretch it’s ever had.

That’s only because Miles has been playing polo in Argentina for the past month, and I’m in London at the Royal Veterinary College four days a week.

I’m halfway through my third year of a five-year course, and once I graduate, I’ll be a vet in Valentine Nook—something I’ve dreamed about since I was ten years old.

Assuming I’ve not completely fucked things up.

Alex puts a steaming cup of tea in front of me and sits down. Easing a Digestive out, he dunks it in his own cup and bites into it. He watches me while he chews and swallows, then takes a long sip. When he leans back, arms crossed, I know my time is up.

“Right. What’s happened?”

Thumping sets off behind my eyes, a pressure from the million thoughts running around and around my mind. I open my mouth to begin, only to close it again.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“Hen, it can’t be that bad . . . Is it school? Have you failed your course?” He frowns, like that’s the only thing I could have ruined. But he couldn’t possibly understand.

Six years older than me, Alex has always been sensible, for want of a better word. Cautious is more accurate. Controlled.

If I’d been a little more controlled, I wouldn’t be in this mess, one Alex would never find himself in. Alex, along with Lando, my eldest brother, has always been too focused on work to find time for anything else.

They’re a team, but where Lando has been busy running Burlington since he was eighteen, Alex is working to build overseas operations. Together, they’re the leaders of the next generation of our family, while Miles and I have been given the freedom to forge our own paths.

And the second we were old enough, we took that freedom and sprinted, much to their chagrin. But we were born without the weight of responsibilities our older brothers have, and—as we learned very early—Miles and I are also blessed with the ability to work hard and party hard.

When we’re not partying, Miles channels his energy into becoming the best polo player in the world, while I study my arse off so that I can take over the Valentine Nook Veterinary Practice.

Lando and Alex run the world their way. Miles and I play in the world our way.

We have the uncanny ability to get out of any situation virtually unscathed.

Or we did. I did.

I shake my head. “Do you remember when you were in London a couple of months ago, and the four of us went out?”

It takes him a second to recall. “Annabel’s?”

“Yes.” I nod. “And I hooked up with that girl. Sienna?”

His mouth rolls because I could be talking about anyone. He stopped paying attention to my social life a long time ago. “I didn’t know that was her name. But okay—”

“I’ve seen her a couple of times since.” I pick up another biscuit out of habit, only to put it back down. I have no appetite. “She’s pregnant.”

The cup of tea stops halfway to Alex’s lips, and he slowly places it back on the table. “And it’s yours?”

Swallowing the resurfacing lump in my throat, I nod. “Apparently so.”

He says nothing more and rubs along his brow.

Since our father died when Miles and I were young, Lando and Alex have taken on his role, especially as we’ve gotten older.

Eight and six years older than us, respectively, they’re a fine balancing act.

Lando’s less tolerant than Alex. He’s too focused on building Burlington to put up with the mountain of shit Miles and I get up to.

Therefore, Alex is the one we usually go to as a first port of call when we need bailing out—literally, in Miles’s case, last summer.

But I have no idea how Alex will react to this latest news.

His fingers slowly scratch along his stubbled chin, back and forth. I know he’s thinking about how our father would have dealt with this.

By the time he asks, “Have you spoken to Miles?” the anxiety of waiting for his reaction almost has me in tears.

I shake my head. Even though it’s nearly lunchtime in Buenos Aires, there’s no way Miles will be up. “He’s still asleep.”

“And this girl? Did you talk to her about what she wanted to do?”

Sienna’s determined expression flashes in my eyes, and I nod once. “She wants to keep it.”

I don’t add that she already shared her financial demands and expectations, or the one thing I’m trying not to think about—that she got pregnant on purpose. There were two of us there, and I thought we were always careful.

Fuck. What a mess.

“You know you need a paternity test.”

“Yes.” My face drops in my hands, but Alex stands and pulls me into a hug, cradling my head while I sob on his shoulder.

It’s not the first time he’s comforted me like this, and it won’t be the last, so he lets me cry until I’m ready to stop.

“It’s going to be okay, Hen. We’ll figure it out. Let me call Lando, and we’ll drive to Burlington to find Mum too. May as well tell them both at the same time.”

I sniff hard, and my sigh is so deep it makes my stomach convulse.

I only just make it to the kitchen sink before I throw up.

I haven’t eaten since last night, so all my stomach contains is the acid that’s steadily built up since I walked into the coffee shop.

It burns my throat, my eyes sting, and I don’t stop until Alex stands behind me holding a glass of water.

I knock it back in one go, only to vomit it all up again.

It takes another five minutes of resting my head against the cool marble of the sink before I feel anything close to normal, though I suspect normal isn’t something I’ll get to experience for a while.

When I finally stand straight, Alex stares at me, his face twisted with worry.

“I’m fine, really.” I swipe a hand across my mouth, hoping he doesn’t catch the lie. “I need to run back to the cottage. Can you wait ten minutes?”

He nods. “I’ll let Lando know we’re coming.”

Leaving my car outside Alex’s, I walk the half mile down Honeysuckle Lane to Rosehip Cottage, where Miles and I live.

I’ve spent the best part of today either in my car or sitting in a London coffee shop.

Fresh country air is what I need. While I’m not putting too much pressure on it, a couple of deep lungfuls is all it takes to dial down the anxiety by at least twenty-five percent.

I even manage a small wave to Mrs. Winston, walking on the other side of the road. But I pass too quickly for her to stop me for a chat, and as I’m nearing the fountain, I hear my name and look up.

There she is.

The one person I want to see most in the world right now, besides Miles.

Story MacIntosh.

My best friend since I was six. My permanent sunny day, whatever the weather.

Her entire face lights up. For a second, my day rights itself. The anxiety curdling my bones subsides, and I completely forget how fucked my life is.

Wrapping her arms around me, she squeezes me tight, and just like always, I rest my chin on her head. It’s been something I’ve done since my growth spurt at thirteen because she stayed the same height. The scent of her shampoo floats under my nose.

It’s all I can do not to bury my nose in her thick mop of chocolate-brown hair to calm my racing heart.

It’s been less than twenty-four hours since I last saw her, but it feels like forever. My world is not the same as it was yesterday.

I wish I could go back to last night, when the two of us snuggled under the blanket on the sofa, watching our Monday night movie with a bowl of popcorn.

It’s a ritual we started the summer we were thirteen, and we’ve continued it every Monday we could.

But with us both being away at university, yesterday was the first Monday movie night we’d had in forever.

Even though we speak every day, we hadn’t both been back in Valentine Nook at the same time for a couple of months, so I couldn’t fucking wait to see her.

Everything was set up the way all our Monday movie nights are. I’d bought her favorite popcorn, ordered two pizzas—pineapple for me, spicy pepperoni for her—and the movie we’d been waiting to watch together was ready on pause.