me to kick you back?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. It was impossible not to smile at her. Every time he went back to New York he missed this. Bickering with Becca cheered him up, the same way roasting Gray and his brothers made him grin. It was the one time he felt alive, part of something.
Part of a family.
Maybe the diner wasn’t so bad after all.
“The diner was always Craig’s favorite,” Zoe told Van as she pushed open the glass door and they walked onto the white tiled floor. The smell of fried food wafted around them, making Van’s stomach growl. “He used to bring me here sometimes. Not for a while though.”
“How are you feeling about him leaving?” Van asked her.
“I dunno.” Zoe’s face was impassive. “Where do you want to sit?”
Van bit down a smile at her unwillingness to talk about her emotions. She was like Van’s miniature in that respect. “How about we go to the booth in the corner. It used to be my favorite when I was a kid. Nobody can see you there, or judge what you’re eating.” She winked. “Or how much.”
“You used to eat here?” Zoe asked, looking at Van with interest. “That’s cool.”
“It was my second home as a teenager,” Van told her. “Along with…” She swallowed hard. Zoe wouldn’t even know who Tanner was. She wasn’t even born when her and Tanner’s friendship ended spectacularly. “Anyway, it was a nice place to spend time when I didn’t want to be at home.”
Zoe caught her eye, as though she knew exactly what Van meant. “I’ve been spending a lot of time at the library since Craig left.”
“The library’s cool, too.” God, Craig had a lot to answer for. “Here’s the boo—” Her words stopped abruptly as she stopped in front of her favorite seat, her tongue sticking to the roof of her mouth. For a moment, all she could do was stare at the two people already sitting on the familiar red-and-white benches, her heart flailing wildly against her ribcage.
Tanner Hartson. When was the last time she’d seen him this close up? A decade ago? On the rare occasion she’d caught sight of him since, on those unlucky days when they were both visiting home, she’d managed to cross the road and keep her distance.
What the hell should she do? Say hello? She swallowed hard, taking in his dark, thick hair, raked back from his face like it always was, tapering down to the nape of his neck. His shoulders were wide, his broad chest stretching the thin knit of his sweater. And then there was the dark shadow on his strong jaw which made him look older. Sexier. No longer the boy she remembered, but a man now. One that could take her breath away if she let him.
Becca was the first one to recover. She looked up at Van with a smile. “Hey, I heard you were back in town. How are you doing? That can’t be Zoe. She’s so grown up.”
Somehow Van managed to form a smile on her lips. She always had time for Becca. She’d been like a little sister to her growing up. “I’m good,” she said, keeping her gaze away from Tanner. “And yeah, this is my sister, Zoe.”
“Hey, Zoe. You probably don’t remember me. I’m Becca Hartson.”
“Are you Gray Hartson’s sister?” Zoe asked.
Becca nodded. “That’s right.”
Zoe’s eyes lit up. “That’s really cool. Me and my friends love his music.”
“And this is Tanner, one of my other brothers.” Becca nodded her head at him. “I promise you he talks sometimes.”
Tanner swallowed hard, his prominent Adam’s apple undulating against his throat. “Hi, Zoe.” His smooth, dark voice made the hairs on the back of Van’s neck stand up. Awareness washed through her like the ocean across the shore.
Zoe nodded at him.
Then he was looking right at Van with those piercing eyes, and she felt a shot of electricity pulse down her spine.
“Hi, Van. You doing okay?” he asked softly.
She nodded quickly. “I’m great. How are you?”
“I’m good.” He gave her the ghost of a smile and it jolted a memory in her mind. Of the day everything changed. She swallowed down the bitter taste of it.
“Do you guys want to join us?” Becca asked them, gesturing at the booth. “There’s enough room for all of us.”
Tanner’s dark, assessing eyes met Van’s. She felt a jolt of alarm shoot through her.
“Thank you, but not this time.” As though there’d be a next time. “I haven’t