“Oh, don’t do that, Mom.” Jett handed another bowl, this one full of steaming broccoli, to Kash. “I think it might be more punishment than reward.”

Mom laughed, completely oblivious. I razed Jett to the ground solely with the power of my mind.

“I never imagined Luke would become a workaholic,” she said, laughing softly and reaching for my face. “And here I thought you didn’t even particularly like the flower shop. Now I can’t keep you out of it.”

A dish of meat was thrust in my direction, and Jett laid a smirking look on me. “He’s in it all right.”

I snatched the dish from his hand with an amiable smile. “What can I say? I love some good hammer-and-nail action.”

“Oh, we know,” he said on a laugh.

“Really,” Mom kept on, following us into the dining room, “I never knew you were such a carpenter.”

“Always was good with wood,” Kash said, tossing a broccoli floret into the air and catching it in his mouth.

I rolled my eyes, setting down the dish and taking my seat. But before I could change the subject, Mom did.

She opened her napkin, laying it in her lap. “I heard Wendy came to the shop today. I didn’t know she was in town.” The statement was pointed.

I glared at Jett, who shrugged, wide-eyed.

“Oh, please,” Mom said. “There are no secrets in this house. The Bennets are known for many things, but tight lips is not one of them.”

My siblings at least had the good sense to look cowed. One scan informed me that Jett told Laney, and she told Kash, who would have told anybody who’d listen, even Marcus.

“What did she want?” Mom asked, dishing out rice, catching my eye for a heartbeat.

“Just to say hello,” I answered, which was truth enough.

Mom snorted a laugh. “I can’t imagine that was all she wanted.”

“She moved back,” I admitted. “She and her boyfriend broke up.”

That earned me a look from the entire table.

“Don’t gimme that,” I said, ignoring them in favor of the meat. “I sent her on her way.”

They were still looking at me.

I set the fork on the dish and gave them all a look right back. “I’m not interested in anything Wendy has to offer or ask for. All right?”

Mom took the fork and dished herself a cut of chicken. “Well, you can’t blame us for being suspicious. She’s done everything she can to hurt you, Lucas, and I’d rather not see that happen again.”

I sighed. “She doesn’t mean to.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that she did—and will again, if you give her the chance. She’s not your responsibility. Not anymore. Not after what she did.” Mom’s face was hard, but her eyes were on her task.

She was right, of course. Wendy wasn’t my responsibility. But it felt like she was.

I wondered if I’d ever be free of that feeling.

“I’m just a friendly face,” I assured her.