Page 103 of The Case of the Missing Love Stone

A knock sounds downstairs.

Wes reaches for his phone on the nightstand. “Driveway camera. Honey’s car.”

I look at the screen. Honey stands on my porch beneath a yellow raincoat, wearing the expression of a woman prepared to feed her way through a crisis. Her arms are full of bakery bags and a casserole dish. Her sister isn’t with her, but the pink Sweet Tooth bags say she sent reinforcements.

Wes looks at me. “Do you want her in?”

My house. My choice. Even after everything.

“Yes.” I start to push myself upright, but my tender muscles object. Both men notice.

Wes shifts out of bed first. “Take your time.”

“I’m capable of walking down my own stairs.”

Roman stretches beside me. “We have recently gathered evidence to the contrary.”

“I hate this investigation.”

By the time I make it downstairs, Honey is in my kitchen unpacking food like she has declared war on hunger and intends to win by noon.

She turns when she sees me, her golden-brown eyes too bright. “Oh, Scar.”

“Don’t hug me if you’re going to cry into my hair. It’s been through a lot.”

She crosses the kitchen anyway. Her arms wrap around me, warm and tight, smelling of sugar, rain, and Sweet Tooth’s honey glaze. I stand stiff for one breath and then hug her back.

Honey pulls away and looks me over while she takes in the scent of the room. Her gaze catches on the sleep shirt, my tangled hair, and the two men in yesterday’s clothes. Understanding flashes across her face.

I point at her. “No.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Your eyebrows did.”

“I can’t help that they’re expressive.”

Roman opens a bakery bag. “Junie sent honey cakes, sausage rolls, and a note.” He reads aloud, “If Scarlet refuses food, tell Wes to use his scary voice.”

I snatch the card. Junie’s looping handwriting fills the little pink paper. Eat. Honey is authorized to bully you. Also, you are loved. Be annoying about it later.

I set the card down before my throat does anything embarrassing.

Honey points at the table. “Sit.”

I glance at Wes. “See? That is what a command sounds like.”

He folds his arms. “I’m taking notes.”

Roman places a plate in front of me with enough pastries to sedate a lumberjack.

Honey unpacks the remaining boxes. “You’re not supposed to come into town.”

“Good morning to you too.”

Her mouth presses together. “Mrs. Delaney told several business owners you were barred from festival spaces.”

Wes’s expression cools. Roman nudges the plate closer until it touches my hand.