Page 48 of Honeycombs & Homecomings

He tried to ignore it as he took a seat and started dishing up his own food.

“Sweetie,” his mom said. “What time did you get up?”

“A while ago.”

She frowned at him, and he knew she wasn’t going to let it go.

“Everything’s fine, Mom.” He grabbed a fork. “It’s just that something came up back home and I have to head back today.”

“Oh, no!” she said. “I hope everything’s all right?”

“It’s a work thing,” he said. “Nothing to worry about, just needs to be resolved immediately.”

She hummed low in her throat. “You sure?”

“Positive.”

She nodded and stood up. “Well, I guess we’d better enjoy this breakfast together then. I just need one more thing.” She went to the pantry and shuffled around.

“Mom,” he signaled to the table. “There’s homemade syrup, ketchup, hot sauce, what else could you possibly need?”

“Aha! Found it. Someone put it on the top shelf and I couldn’t see it,” she ambled back, and plopped a container ofSticky and Sweet Honeyhe purchased from Jo the day he’d arrived in front of him.

He dropped his fork, a piece of sausage flying off the end and bouncing across the table and into his dad’s lap.

“So, I thought,” his mother said, taking her seat. “What’s going on with you two?”

“Nothing?” Cash said. “I just have to head—”

“Back?” his mom said. “We heard. But you’re flustered, and I haven’t seen you like this since you were eighteen and Jo first turned you down for prom. In fact, you weren’t even this worked up when you broke up with Shelly.”

Great, now that would be on his mind, too. Today was the day he and Shelly were supposed to have been married. He scrubbed a hand down his face. There was no point in lying to her now. At around the same time his mom’s depression had gone away, she’d also become extremely observant. It was unnerving. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You two finally talked about you leaving town on prom night, didn’t you?” she crossed her arms over her chest.

Cash’s eyes bugged. How?

“Jo doesn’t strike me as the kind of gal to get mad over something little. It had to be that. And things were going so well between the two of you.”

He gave his mom a pointed look. “There was nothing going, I was just helping her with a problem with her business. Nothing could be going. I don’t live here, and I’m heading home. We both know that—knew that going in.”

His mom and dad gave each other a meaningful look.

“What?” Cash asked, and pointed between the two of them. “What was that?”

His mom’s eyes welled. “It was my fault.”

Cash scooted closer to her. “What was?”

“That you left that night,” she said. “I know it was. Your father and I got in that ridiculous shouting match about how to stack dishes in the dishwasher—the stupid things I used to care about—and you looked at the two of us, packed your stuff and hit the road. I’ve never forgiven myself for that.”

Cash shook his head. “Mom, that was a long time ago.”

She patted his cheek. “That was the moment I decided to listen to your father and get help.”

Cash turned to his dad.

His dad sat his silverware down. “It’s true, son.”

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