And suddenly Camden’s grim mood made sense.

“Do you two know each other?” Emmitt asked.

“No,” Piper said, at the same time Camden said, “Yes.”

She stared at him.

He stared right back.

“Well, that clears that up,” Emmitt said. “Cam?”

“We were both at the bar tonight.”

“Yep,” Piper added. “End of story. Now, tell me how you’re feeling, Emmitt.”

He flashed his son a grin, as if he found it hugely funny and satisfying that Piper wasn’t interested in him.

As for how Cam felt about this, or anything, he wasn’t revealing. “Why does she want to know how you’re feeling?” he asked. “Have you been sick?”

“Nope. I’ve been healthy as a horse.”

Piper shook her head. “Maybe a horse with—” She broke off, horrified that she’d very nearly outed Emmitt’s medical condition, which was never okay, even when one was totally off-kilter.

Cam stared at her and then turned to his dad, who grimaced.

Piper sighed. I’m sorry, she mouthed to Emmitt.

“Don’t worry about it.” Emmitt looked at Cam. “I’ve got diabetes.”

Cam’s expression was disbelief. “Since when?”

“The doc tested me about five months ago. I was going to tell you.”

Cam gave him a long look.

“Okay,” Emmitt said. “So I wasn’t going to tell you.”

“Seriously?”

Emmitt huffed out a sigh. “Look, I’d have gotten to it eventually. But you’ve got to understand, my ability to remember to tell you things is far outweighed by my ability to remember every song lyric from the eighties.”

“I’m so sorry,” Piper said into the tense room. “I never should’ve—”

“It’s okay, darlin’,” Emmitt said. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“No,” Cam said tightly, sending an incriminating look in his dad’s direction. “You absolutely didn’t.”

“I know, I hear you loud and clear, but, son, you’ve had enough stress and grief, I wasn’t about to add to it.”

Cam closed his eyes and took what appeared to be a deep breath. Extremely revealing for the guy who had yet to show much emotion. “Dad—”

“And what does it matter anyway? I’m doing good,” Emmitt said to both of them. “I’m feeling much better.”

“Good,” Piper said. “But your foot, where you cut it open last week. I’d like to check it.”

“Cam dressed it for me just now. But I did drop a glass and he got cut dealing with the mess. Maybe you could take a look—”

“Of course,” Piper said.

Emmitt nodded his thanks. “I’ll be in the kitchen. My Jack isn’t going to drink itself.”

“Hey,” Piper said to his back. “You’re not supposed to be drinking alcohol anymore, remember? It’s on your dietary restrictions list.”

“I thought that list was more of a . . . suggestion sort of thing. You know, like a guideline.” He turned and flashed a charming smile.