When I opened the door, I was surprised to find a meek college-aged girl with soft blond curls and sad honey-colored eyes. She was petite, dressed in leggings and an oversized University of Michigan sweatshirt that hung from her frame and made her look even smaller.

She met my stare, seemingly just as curious about who I was. Then her gaze darted behind me and into the living room.

“Can I help you?” I asked.

“Is C-Cannon here?” she stuttered.

“Not right now.”

“But he does live here?”

I swallowed, suddenly feeling uneasy, not to mention I was totally unsure about how to answer her question. “I’m sorry, who are you?”

Her expression changed, and she offered a shy smile. “Sorry. I’m Michelle. Cannon’s girlfriend.”

My eyes about fell out of my head. “His what?”

Her smile fell. “I mean, I was. Now, I don’t know what I am. I haven’t talked to him.”

Several things clicked into place at once. She was the reason he suddenly needed a place to stay. He broke up with his girlfriend and needed a hideout. I’d been an easy escape from his reality. My throat tightened, and I gripped the doorway for support.

“He didn’t mention you,” I said.

Her smile fell away. “I’m not surprised. That’s Cannon for you. Our history is . . . complicated.”

He’d told me some of his complicated past with women, but now I wondered if he’d told me everything. Apparently not, because I had no idea who this woman standing on my porch was. He’d never mentioned the name Michelle.

“And you’re his . . .” Michelle paused, clearly fishing for information.

“I’m his older sister’s friend.” God, that sounded so lame.

“Ah. That makes sense. I mean, I didn’t think . . . never mind.” She grinned at me, an almost giddy smile that revealed her age.

“The next time I see him, I’ll tell him you stopped by.”

She nodded. “Please do. And ask him to call me.”

“I will.”

Michelle retreated to the curb where her little red sedan was parked, and I watched as she climbed inside, took one last wistful look toward me, and then drove away.

Still rattled from Michelle’s visit, I headed into my small kitchen to a depressing dinner for one.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Cannon

I’d been staying with my mom for the past week and a half. Though Paige didn’t say it, I no longer felt welcome at her place. I felt even worse, because it was basically my fault that Allie found us that morning. I’d left my mom’s in the middle of the night without saying good-bye to anyone, shown up drunk at Paige’s, and apparently forgotten to lock the door when I got home. And I was hung over, so I didn’t hear Allie come in until she was practically in the doorway, watching us with judgmental eyes.

Allie was still pissed at me, but I knew in time she’d get over it. If she thought Paige was going to be a distraction from my career, she was wrong. Paige didn’t want a future with me. At least, that’s what I’d been led to believe.

“Hello? Mom?” I called out as I let myself inside.

I found her in the kitchen baking. Mom baked when she was stressed; it was kind of her thing. A plate of frosted pumpkin bars sat on the counter, and a pan of brownies was cooling on top of the stove. Mom was elbow deep in a mixing bowl, kneading what looked like biscuit dough. I eyed everything with apprehension.

“Cannon.” She smiled when she saw me. “Glad you’re here. Hand me that canister of flour.”

I did as I was told, then sat down on the bar stool at the counter to watch her work. “How are you holding up?” I raised my brows at the counters, which were now piled high.

“What? They’re for the church brunch this weekend.”

I rolled my eyes. Baking was a much better alternative to lying in bed crying, but still she was my mom, and I was allowed to poke fun at her idiosyncrasies.

“So, talk to me about Denver,” she said, dusting the countertop with more flour.

I’d called her the minute the opportunity was presented to me, wanting her input, although ultimately the decision was mine to make. But all that was before Bob passed. Things were different now.

“Mom, I can’t possibly leave you now. Not after everything that’s happened.”

I hadn’t told her about Paige and me, and I’d made Allie promise not to either. Mom had enough to worry about. She didn’t need to know about the drama still stewing between us. Allie had reluctantly agreed through text message, still refusing to speak to me much.

“Of course you can, and you will. I’ve always known this day was coming, and I’ve been preparing for it for a long time, Cannon.”

I weighed her words, turning them over in my head. I had never put myself in her shoes, never considered what it was like to be a parent, to know your children would grow up and leave you one day. But she was right; it’s something you always know is coming.

“I was fine when you went off to Yale, and I’ll be fine now.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but the heavy crease between her brows proved her point. My mom had lived alone most of her adult life. My dad wasn’t in the picture very long before cutting out, and she’d made it just fine. All those years, she forged a life for herself, tugging two small kids behind her.

Mom turned out the ball of dough onto the floured countertop and began rolling it out with a large wooden rod.