Temptation Trails (The Haven Brothers #3)

“Was that hard for you?”

His shrug spoke volumes. I could practically see him trying to push down his feelings. “She was already gone a lot, so it didn’t change things too much.”

“So, she’s gone a lot now?”

“I don’t see her.”

That hit me like a punch in the stomach. He didn’t see his mom? Like, ever?

“Not at all? Did she move away?”

“I don’t think she lives in Tilikum anymore. But no, I just don’t see her.”

The urge to hug him was so strong. “Owen, I’m so sorry. That really sucks.”

“I guess. We weren’t close anyway.”

“I feel that. I’m not close with my mom either.”

He looked up, his expression full of interest. “Really?”

“I don’t want to say my relationship with my mom is like yours, considering I do actually see her. But only a couple of times a year at most. We talk a little bit, but not much. There’s just this weird gap between us. I can’t really explain it.”

“That sucks too, doesn’t it?”

I nodded. “It does sometimes. I think, as humans, we all have a basic need to be understood. To be seen. It’s hard when one of the people who ought to really see you, just… doesn’t.”

“Yeah.” His brow furrowed. “It is annoying that my mom just bailed on us.”

I had a feeling it was a lot more than annoying. The hurt he was trying to hide was plain in the set of his shoulders, the stormy look on his face.

Maybe I could read him a little bit.

“Yeah, that’s rough.” I wasn’t sure what else to say. Your mom sounds awful, what did your dad ever see in her? No, that was a terrible question. “She doesn’t know what she’s missing.”

He met my eyes again and a smile tugged the corners of his mouth. “You’re just saying that because you like my dad.”

“I’m saying it because it’s true. But you’re right, I do like your dad. Is it weird if I say that to you?”

“It’s okay if it’s weird. Is the dough ready?”

“It is. You want to start scooping?”

He held up the cookie scoop. “On it.”

I let him dump the cookie dough onto the work surface and got out a few baking sheets. He remembered how to do it, so I left him to it while I washed out the mixer so I could get started on the next thing.

Beth poked her head into the kitchen. “How are we doing on cookies?”

“They’re going into the oven in just a minute. How’s the case looking?”

“Pretty bare, but it’s not busy. We’re fine, I just wanted to check.”

“Sounds good. Thanks, Beth.”

Once Owen finished scooping cookies, he and I put the trays in the oven. We shared an amused look as I set two timers—no fire-cookie fiasco today—and I went looking for the coconut flakes. I wanted to whip up a batch of pistachio coconut drop cookies for the evening rush.

“I know I ordered more,” I said, more to myself than to Owen as I kept searching through the shelves and cupboards. “Where are—oh no.”