He didn’t stop until she was plastered up against him and he was hugging her. He held her like that until she stopped vibrating with pent-up emotion and devastation. Then and only then did he slide his fingers along her jaw and tilt her face up to his, lowering his head to give her a sweet kiss that she felt all the way to her toes. It seemed to infuse her with a strength she’d forgotten she had, and when he pulled away, she drew a deep breath.

“Thanks,” she whispered, and eyed his shirt. She’d mashed some mac and cheese into him. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Let me guess. You’ve had worse?”

“Yes. And you’re stalling.”

She drew another deep breath and nodded. “I am. Talking’s never really worked out for us as a family.”

“Maybe it’s not about talking. Maybe it’s about listening.”

She looked at him.

He looked at her right back.

“You . . . think I don’t listen,” she said.

“I think you’re smart as hell. Which means you almost always have the right answers. But sometimes people need to find those answers on their own. They need to make their own mistakes. They need to know that when they admit those mistakes, they’re going to be loved and accepted anyway. And before you think I’m smarter than I am, you should know I only learned all that when it was too late. Don’t be too late.”

His smile was kind and tinged with pain, and her heart ached for him. And he was right. She didn’t listen very well. Or at all.

“I do accept them,” she said softly. “I mean, Winnie’s . . . amazing. Resilient. She’ll always come out on top, I know it. And as for Gavin, he’s smart, resourceful, charismatic . . . He’s got so much potential. Addiction’s a disease, he didn’t do it on purpose.”

Cam gave her a small smile. “And here you thought you had nothing to say.”

SHE WENT LOOKING for Gavin first. She found him in the very kitchen she’d just abandoned. He’d cleaned up the mess and was surrounded by what looked like all the ingredients she’d had in the pantry. “What are you doing?”

“Cleaning and organizing our pantry.” He hadn’t looked at her, but his voice dared her to contradict the our part.

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “I didn’t listen before, but I’m listening now. Please talk to me.”

“I’m busy right now.”

Racked with guilt, she got between him and the pantry and met his gaze, which was both hollow and haunted. “Gavin,” she whispered, and wrapped her arms around him. “I’m so sorry. I should’ve known. I hate that I didn’t. You needed me and I wasn’t there for you.”