He’d been right.

“Oh my. Camden? Is that really you?”

I stood and faced the hallway to see Hope Bradley, Willow’s mom, gawking at me.

Yet another person with a permit to loathe me. Fucking awesome.

Her lip trembled, her eyes watered, and then it took everything I had in me not to put the front door between us as she quickly walked my way.

“You…” She shook her head and gave me a watery smile. “You look exactly how I remember you. I didn’t know you were in town!”

“Just got in today,” I told her, stuffing my hands in my pockets.

“Oh wow! Does Willow know? I bet she’d love to see you.”

That kindness in her hazel eyes—so like Willow’s—was almost my undoing. There was a reason she’d been Mom’s best friend.

“Yeah, I actually saw her about an hour ago.” What the hell was taking Xander so long upstairs?

“Oh good! She’s always the first to jump and help when Art takes one of his walks.” The skin between her eyebrows furrowed as she examined my coat. White feathers poked out of the holes the buckshot left. “What on earth have you gotten into, Cam?”

“Hope, I’ll be ready to go in just a second,” Dorothy called as she crossed the hallway, headed for the kitchen.

“I drive her home,” Mrs. Bradley explained. “Plus, it lets me check in and make sure Art has everything he needs or give Xander a little break. I’m so glad you’re here! How long are you in for?”

“I’m back for good.” The words tasted like bitter lemon on my tongue.

She clasped her hands. “Really? Well, that’s the best thing I’ve heard all week!” Her eyes dropped to my coat again, and she shook her head. “You might need to get a new coat, though.”

“I’m ready,” Dorothy said, coming out of the kitchen. “Now, Cam, I’ve given your father his evening meds. Maybe you could take a shift sleeping in Art’s room so Xander can sleep at his own place tonight? That boy is worn to the bone. Oh, and how are you feeling after all that…?” She acted like it hadn’t been years since I’d been in this house, like I’d left mid-conversation and she was simply picking it back up.

“All that what?” Hope asked.

“Boy got himself shot saving your daughter; at least that’s what Art just told me.” Dorothy passed us both to retrieve her coat from the rack by the door.

“You were shot?” She focused on a hole in my jacket. “And Willow?” Her panicked gaze darted back to mine.

“She’s fine,” I assured her. That had been the only acceptable outcome.

“Because you were there,” Xander commented as he came down the stairs.