"Whatever." Elliott dismissed Tenn. "Look at him! He's got everything. What did he risk? An afternoon of driving? And for that, he gets my family?"
"Dad." Thatcher's voice was weary in a way I never wanted to hear again, his disappointment soul deep. "Just shut up. You don't know anything about Tenn, and we haven't been your family in a long time."
For the first time, Elliott's carefully constructed facade crumpled, his eyes seeking something from Thatcher that Thatcher didn't have to give. "But if you stay here, I'll never see you."
A small voice piped up. "You didn't see us that much when we lived in the same place. And Grandma and Grandpa will be closer to us here." August looked up at Tenn. "Right? Florida is closer to North Carolina than Massachusetts."
"That's right, buddy," Tenn said in a low, tight voice. "Florida is closer to North Carolina than Massachusetts."
"See?" August pinned Elliott with an innocently solemn look, unaware he was driving nails into his father's heart with every word. "We can see Grandma and Grandpa more, and we didn't really see you that much before anyway, so you won't miss us. And we have friends here now." He bit his lip at the sad look on Elliott's face. "You shouldn't have taken Thatcher with you when the bad guys were after you. Mom was really scared. And you lied to Thatch. We're not supposed to lie."
"You want to stay too, August?" I asked, needing to hear him say it.
He gave me a look that clearly said, Duh. "I thought we already decided."
"Not for sure," I said slowly. "I wouldn't decide anything like that without talking to you and Thatcher about it."
Shocking the hell out of me, Thatcher said, "We talked about it already, August and me. We want to stay here."
Elliott was speechless. I hadn't seen him without words since I told him I wanted a divorce. After a long silence, he pulled himself together. Typical Elliott—his first thought was for himself. His son had just told him he was going to live a thousand miles away and all Elliott had was, "How am I supposed to get home?"
I couldn't help it. I rolled my eyes, staring at the night sky. "I cannot fathom how this is my problem."
"Why don't you give me your car?" Elliott wheedled. "I bet this guy has a car you can use—"
"I just got it paid off, you—" I bit off my words before I could call him a name I couldn't take back in front of his children. Sucking in a breath to clear my head, I said, "I like my car, Elliott. You can't have it. Figure out your own way home."
Beside Thatcher, Tenn shifted. Reading his mind, I muttered, "Don't even think about it. We cave once and it'll never end."
"I don't want him in my town," Tenn muttered back.
He had a point. The idea of Elliott hanging around Sawyers Bend made me a little nauseous. Against my better judgment, I was about to offer to buy Elliott a bus ticket when Hawk stepped into the light.
Ignoring Elliott, he said, "Sterling is in your office with Royal, Daisy, her sisters, and a few bottles of champagne."
"I'm going to kill Forrest Powell," Tenn said under his breath. I knew from Tenn that Sterling had a pretty big problem with drinking until a few months ago. A broken heart was not a great speed bump in her recovery. I kind of wanted to kill Forrest, too. Or at least kick him in the balls really, really hard. Poor Sterling.
"I'll give Hall a ride to the bus station in Asheville. You won't see him again," Hawk promised.
"Thanks, man," Tenn said, turning toward his SUV. "You guys ready to go home?"
"Yeah," Thatcher said, pulling me along with him.
From behind me, Elliott called, "That's it? You're just leaving me with this guy? We aren't going to talk about this?"
I didn't bother to answer. Stopping at the open door to the backseat, I hugged Thatcher tight. "You okay?"
"Love you, Mom," his voice hitched, his arms coming around me so tight I lost my breath.
"Love you too, Thatcher." I rocked him from side to side, the way I had when I'd carried him as a baby. "Love you so much."
He shuddered against me once before getting himself under control. "Can we make s’mores at home? I'm hungry."
Of course, he was. Wiping away the moisture under my eyes, I let out a watery laugh. "It's pretty late, kiddo."
"It's a Saturday," Thatcher countered.
I sighed. "Why don't we get home and see what's stashed in the pantry? I'm sure we can find something to fill your hollow leg."
Shutting his door as he clicked in his seatbelt, I rounded the back of the SUV to get in. Elliott was following Hawk to his vehicle, his shoulders slumped, dejection hanging over him like a cloak of misery. I couldn't bring myself to feel more than a vague sense of pity.