She dropped her hand and met Avery’s eyes. “For whatever reason, Hunter’s changed. He’s not one of us anymore. As much as it hurts me to admit, I can’t imagine what it does to Matt. They’re twins, for God’s sake. Once they were as close as two people could be.”
Cherry shivered slightly and closed the door. “To his credit, Matt’s gone on. So have Daddy and I. But Mother can’t seem to … let go.” She paused. “It’s been much worse since Hunter came back to Cypress Springs. Before, we could forget, you know? Out of sight, out of mind. Even Mom. I think she consoled herself with his professional success.”
Out of sight, out of mind. Avery understood. In a way, she had done that with her father. She had told herself he was happy, that he had a nice comfortable life. Now she had to live with just how wrong she’d been.
“Then home he came,” Cherry continued, “with a shitload of bad attitude and so many chips on his shoulder it’s amazing he can walk upright.”
“Why, Cherry? The other night your dad said Hunter almost lost his license to practice law. Do you know what happened?”
“Yeah, I know. He had it all and he blew it. That’s what happened. Professional success. Money, brains. A family who loved him. And he’s blown it all to hell.
“You know what he’s doing?” she asked. “The man’s gone from practicing corporate law at one of the top firms in the South to taking the odd divorce and bankruptcy case in Cypress Springs. I don’t get it. He’s working and living down in what used to be Barker’s Flower Shop, one block off the square. At the corner of Walton and Johnson. Remember it?”
Avery indicated she did.
“You already know what I really think about why he came back to Cypress Springs.” She didn’t wait for Avery to reply. “He’s come back to hurt us. To punish us for some imagined sin or slight against him.”
Cherry glanced toward the stairway thinking, Avery knew, of her mother. “And what’s really sad is, he’s succeeding.”
CHAPTER 9
Avery left the ranch a short time later. Cherry told her to go ahead and take her mother’s car—after one of these spells her mother didn’t go out for days anyway.
As she drove through town, Avery couldn’t stop thinking about what Cherry had said. About Hunter coming back to punish them. She’d dismissed Cherry’s earlier claim, but now Avery couldn’t put the image of Lilah’s devastation out of her mind.
And the more she thought about it, the angrier she became. How could Hunter treat his family that way? All they had ever done was love and support him.
She didn’t care if she had been gone for twelve years, she wasn’t going to let him get away with it. The Stevenses were the closest thing to a family she had left, and she wasn’t about to stand back and let Hunter hurt them.
She reached Walton Street, took a left, heading back toward Johnson. She found a parking spot a couple doors down from what had been Barker’s Flower Shop. She angled into the spot and climbed out.
Barker’s had been Cypress Springs’s preferred florist during Avery’s high-school years. Every corsage she’d worn had come from this shop.
And they’d all been from Matt, she realized. Every last one of them.
She reached the shop and felt a moment of loss at the empty front window. She used to love peering through at the buckets of cut flowers.
She tried the door. And found it locked. A cardboard clock face propped in the window proclaimed Will Return At—
Problem was the clock’s hour hand was missing.
Cherry had said that Hunter used the front of the shop as his law office and lived in the back. If she remembered correctly, the Barkers had done the same. No doubt, the residence was accessed from the rear.
She went around back, to the service alley. Sure enough, the rear had been set up as a residential entrance.
She crossed to it and found the outer door stood open to allow fresh air in through the screen. She knocked on the door frame. “Hunter?” she called out. “It’s Avery.”
From inside came a scuffling, followed by a whimper. She frowned and knocked again. “Hunter? Is that you?”
The whimpering came again. She leaned closer and peered through the dirty screen. The room immediately beyond the door was a kitchen. It appeared empty.
From inside came a thud. Like something hitting the floor.
Something? Or someone?
Reacting, she tried the screen door, found it unlocked and pushed it open. She stepped through. Save for a handful of dishes in the sink, the kitchen was as neat as a pin.
Heart pounding, she made her way through the room. “Hunter?” she called again, softly. “It’s Avery. Are you all right?”
This time, silence answered. No whimper, whine or scuffle.
Not good.
She rushed through the doorway to the next room and stopped short. The biggest, mangiest dog she had ever seen blocked her way, teeth barred. The beast growled low in its throat and Avery’s stomach dropped to her toes.
She took a step back.
Whimpering from behind the dog drew her gaze. On a blanket shoved into the corner lay a half-dozen squirming pups, so young their eyes weren’t open yet.
“It’s okay, girl,” Avery said gently, returning her gaze to the mama. “I won’t hurt your pups.”
The dog cocked its head as if deciding if Avery could be trusted, then turned and loped back to her babies. She flopped onto her side on the floor and the pups began rooting for a teat. With a heavy sigh, she thumped her tail—which was as thick as a broom handle—once against the wooden floor.
Avery shook her head, feeling more than a little ridiculous. What an imagination she had. Big bad Avery, rushing in to save the day.
She turned away from the nursing dog to take in the room. Neat but spartan, she thought. A shabby but comfortable mishmash of furniture and styles. An ancient-looking couch in a shade that had probably once been a bright gold, but could now only be described as vomit colored. A beat-up coffee table. And a beautiful, butter-colored leather easy chair.
Left over from the good old days, she would bet. The piece he hadn’t been able to get rid of.
She turned. A makeshift desk and file cabinet had been set up in the corner behind her. A computer rested atop the desk, screen dark. Beside the PC sat a stack of printer paper, a couple inches thick.
Curious, she crossed to the desk. A manuscript, she saw. She tipped her head to read. Breaking Point. A novel by Hunter Stevens.
Hunter was writing a novel? Why hadn’t Matt or Cherry mentioned it?
Maybe they didn’t—
“Come right in,” Hunter said from behind her. “Make yourself at home.”
Avery whirled around, hand to her throat. “Hunter!”
“You sound so surprised to see me. Were you expecting someone else?”
“This isn’t how it looks. I didn’t mean to—”
“To what?” he asked. “Break and enter?”
Cheeks burning, she tilted up her chin. “It wasn’t like that. I can explain.”
“Sure you can.” He stalked past her, retrieved the manuscript and placed it in a file drawer. Avery noticed the way he handled the pages—carefully, with something akin to reverence.
“I didn’t read anything but the title,” she said softly.