3. Tori

Okay, it was the slowest and sloppiest car line she'd ever endured, but it was still better to pick up a middle schooler surrounded by sunlight and palm trees than under the dreary gray skies of Massachusetts in March.

And without a catering business keeping her glued to the kitchen, Tori Wingate could actually pick her son up from school and chat with him about his day.

Although, he didn't usually have much nice to say about his new school.

But that, she knew, was the only thing less than perfect about this new life she'd launched three months ago. When her ex-husband opted to leave Boston and take a job in North Carolina, Tori had finally been free to move back to Amelia Island. Here, she was close to family and happily home where she'd grown up.

With a newly negotiated agreement that gave Tori year-round custody of her sixteen-year-old daughter and thirteen-year-old son, the three of them headed south to surround themselves with sisters and cousins…and one very handsome and insanely perfect neurologist lovingly nicknamed Dr. Hottypants.

Did she still have worries? Who didn't? She'd been concerned that uprooting her two teenagers would be brutally disruptive. They seemed to be adjusting—Kenzie a bit faster than Finn, but it was still good.

She'd stressed about selling her successful catering business in Boston and taking over as the owner of the Riverfront Café in Fernandina Beach. Would it be a shock to her professional system…and her wallet?

Running a restaurant had turned out to be exactly the challenge she needed, and the fact that she had the business profitable and growing was proof of that.

And, yes, she'd had a few sleepless nights wondering if her budding relationship with Justin Verona was solid enough to stand the test of living in the same town. So far, so very, very good.

Last fall, Justin bought a family-friendly four-bedroom house in a lovely neighborhood not far from the beach. He insisted she and the kids move in while he continued to live aboard his sailboat.

Of course, Tori was deeply grateful for the beautiful home while they settled into new schools and a new job. More than that, Justin understood that she didn't want to live with her boyfriend while raising her teenagers, which was another thing that made the man a gem.

When she'd moved in, they'd agreed this was "for now" and it would become "for good" but hadn't set a date yet.

After all, his relationship wasn't just about her—the kids' feelings were involved, too. It was one thing for her to get hurt if something in this less-than-a-year-old romance changed, but Tori couldn't stand for her kids to endure one more loss in their young lives. Divorce had been rough for all of them, and Tori had to be certain before she handed Finn and Kenzie a "new" father.

It helped that she had great kids, she mused as she finally reached the front of the line. Like that one right there, the eighth-grader with a mop of dark blond hair, braces, and a lanky body that didn't seem to fill out no matter how much he ate—and, whoa, he ate a lot.

At the moment, he was leaning against a wall, staring at his phone, not looking up or around, a good five feet from the closest kid.

Had he made any friends, she wondered with a tweak in her chest.

Kenzie had slid into a new high school—mid-year in eleventh grade, too—like it was home plate and she'd just hit the ball out of the park. But Finnie? Had he even had a single buddy over to their house yet?

His father had burned him out on baseball, so he hadn't tried out for any spring sports, and he needed that physical outlet.

She waited for Finn to see her, but he refused to look up and the person behind her was probably about to honk.

"Come on, Finley Hathaway," she muttered. "Don't make me roll down the window and embarrass you. It's bad enough I'm still driving the old catering van, but—"

The car behind her tooted, and it was enough to make Finnie look up from his phone and scowl, as if the very idea of a car line offended him. Pushing off the wall, he loped over to the van, yanked open the passenger door, and slipped in with a grunt that was supposed to pass for a greeting.

Tori was about to call him on it when he whipped his backpack over the console to the backseat, the heavy bag clocking her shoulder.

"Sorry," he mumbled, then dropped his head back and pulled on his seatbelt with his eyes closed.

A dozen different quips danced through her head. That's a fine how-do-you-do, Finley, or, Don't worry, I have two arms.

Maternal instinct took over and she canned all of them, pulling out of the car line in the silence he so obviously craved.

"So, tough day in eighth grade?" she finally asked as she turned onto the road that led toward the high school, where Kenzie would be ready for pickup in fifteen minutes.

"Mmm."

She stifled a soft laugh. "Mmm? What does that mean? ‘Yes, it was awful and I failed that science quiz,' or, ‘Nah, it was just middle school, which is misery on a great day,' or, ‘I don't want to speak because I'm hungry and tired.' Help me out, Finn. I don't speak grunts."

"Just…never mind, Mom," he muttered. "Can you drop me off at home before you pick up Kenzie?"

"I could, but I won't, since it would be out of my way and make me late to get her." She frowned at him, still stuck on the fact that he didn't laugh at her joke. "What's wrong, Finn?"

"Nothing." He turned away, staring out the window.

"Come on, I can tell when—"

"Just let it go, okay?" he snapped, which was not only out of character, it made her shiver a little, because it reminded her of Trey. And Finn knew better.

"Don't talk to me that way," she said simply. "I won't stand for it."

"Yeah, sorry." He took out his phone, effectively ending the conversation, and squeezing her heart.

She shouldn't let the moods of a thirteen-year-old boy affect her, but this was a huge life change. Maybe things weren't so hunky-dory in their new world after all.

How long would Finn hide something from her if he was upset or hurting? He could cover his emotions pretty darn well, unlike Kenzie, who wore them like a billboard in Times Square.

"So, how did the science quiz go?" she ventured.

"Fine."

Ah, the monosyllabic teen answer, the bane of all mothers. "Did you ace it?"

"Probably." He tapped the phone, letting out a sigh.

"And did you talk to your homeroom teacher about the trivia contest? Can you still get on a team even if you didn't sign up?"

"No. I don't want to do a stupid trivia contest."

She threw another look at him. "Finn, you promised you'd do something if you didn't play anything this spring. I don't want to be your father and breathe down your neck about sports like he did, but you can't play video games for the whole semester."

He shifted in his seat. "Mom, I'm not going to talk about this now, okay? Let's just get Kenzie and get home."

"You're hungry," she said, letting him off the hook.

"Yeah."

"I have a smooshed-up granola bar in the bottom of my purse, which is probably tastier than it sounds."

He turned away, stared out the window, and put up a wall that, for the moment, at least, was impenetrable. And he didn't say another word until they pulled into the high school lot and Kenzie opened the sliding backseat door.

"I'll get in the back," Finn offered, earning a surprised look from his sister as he climbed out and gave her the coveted passenger seat next to Tori.

"Is he sick?" Kenzie stage-whispered when she climbed in. "He's been calling shotgun since he was out of a car seat."

Tori just shook her head, glancing in the rearview mirror to catch a glimpse of Finn's head, face still in the phone.

"Okay, well, we've avoided an imbroglio." Kenzie grinned. "New on today's SAT word list."

"Then maybe you'll understand, Finn is feeling a bit…" She dug through her memory of Kenzie's practice word list. "Disconsolate."

She laughed at that, then flipped her hand in Finn's direction. "Who wouldn't be, since middle school is basically the seventh circle of hell, which I know, because I read Dante's Inferno last semester."

"And aced the paper you wrote about it,'' Tori reminded her.

Kenzie had truly gotten serious about studying in this, her junior year of high school. She'd just about given up her obsession with making TikTok videos, and for that, everyone in the family was grateful.

"So, Kenz, how was your—"

"Amazing!" she exclaimed, the stark difference between the two kids almost making Tori laugh. "Guess who has a tour at Flagler College? This girl!"

"What? A tour? Why? It's a year early."

"I know, but the guidance counselor loves me, and I do mean she adores me. She's taking some seniors down there next week—it's not far, in St. Augustine—and asked if I wanted to tag along. She thinks I'll have my pick of Florida schools, and I know Flagler's private, so it's more expensive, but can I get into UF? It's like Harvard, these days. At least, that's what Mrs. Scopes told me, but with my grades?" She brushed her knuckles on her T-shirt with a cocky smile. "Sky's the limit, eh, Mom?"

Tori felt pure joy bubble up, which was how this girl always made her feel. "Oh, honey. You're too much. You're pure Wingate."

"Part of the giggle-gaggle, as Grandpa Rex says." She trilled a laugh. "I decided I will try out for volleyball next year, even though it's a little cliquish. I've made a few friends on the team. And Zach thinks I could be on the National Honor Society officers board. Doesn't hurt to have cousins in high places. Right, Finster?"

She turned to her brother in the back, who was still staring at his phone.

"Did you get on the trivia team?" Kenzie asked.

He barely lifted a shoulder. "I'm not doing that. It's dumb."

"What's wrong, Finn-Finn?" Kenzie asked, dragging out the childhood nickname that always made him smile. "Did things go south with Emma Barrington?"

"Shut up, Kenzie!" he shouted, the loudest he'd been since Tori had picked him up.

"Hey, whoa," Tori said, throwing him a dark look. "We don't shut each other up."

"Then…be quiet." He glared at both of them. "And stay out of my business."

Kenzie stared at him, searching his face, ready to retort, but she must have sensed the same thing Tori did. Not a good time to poke the hormonal thirteen-year-old bear.

"So, parents can come to Flagler." She flipped back to the previous subject, Kenzie-style, Finn's attitude forgotten for the moment. "Want to?"

"If I can get someone to cover the café," Tori said. "Is it in the morning? You know I'm slammed."

"It is. But…" She made a face and leaned in. "Maybe Justin could go?" Her voice rose with doubt and hope. "If he doesn't have patients or rounds that morning? I mean, I get it if he has to work, but I'd really like a second, experienced opinion on college."

Justin? He wasn't her father. "Uh, I guess, but when you're seriously looking at schools next year, I want to go."

"Of course, but an adult who's already been to college could see things I might miss." She frowned. "Do you have a problem with him going, Mom? 'Cause I thought I'd ask him tonight if you can't go."

Didshe have a problem with it? Something niggled in her chest at the thought, but she wasn't sure exactly what. Was it an imposition? Was she sad she might miss a moment in Kenzie's life? Or maybe visiting a college felt like a father-daughter event, and Justin wasn't Kenzie's father or stepfather.

"He has a neurology thing at the hospital tonight," Tori said, "so he's not going to be here for dinner." She waited a beat, then added, "It's kind of a big ask, Kenz."

"Because of his schedule or because of what it symbolizes?" she asked.

Tori threw her a smile. "Do you have to be so darn mature?"

"So, it's like saying, ‘Hey, be my dad,' and that bothers you." Kenzie lifted her brows. "I don't know why, but it does, doesn't it?"

Tori sighed as she turned into their driveway, knowing she couldn't keep anything—not a thought, not a secret, not a casual musing—from this girl. "It doesn't bother me, exactly. Might it bother him? I doubt it. Justin's pretty much all-in. But…"

"Aren't you, Mom?" Kenzie pressed. "I mean, let's get it out there. Don't you want to marry the guy?"

They heard a noisy huff of breath from the backseat, and Kenzie whipped around. "What's wrong, Finn? We can't—"

"It's none of your business, Kenzie," he spat out. "Plus, it's super weird if he goes to colleges with you. He isn't our dad."

"Yeah, well, our dad's having his own new life, and this is ours now," she said. "So, Justin's almost like a dad. He will be when they get married."

That. That was it. What if they didn't get married? What if something happened? Anything could. Life threw curveballs—who knew that better than a woman who used to be married to a minor league baseball player?

Then Kenzie would have that memory of seeing her first college with a man who…disappeared.

"Kenzie, you can't—" Tori's comment was cut short by Finn flipping his seatbelt off and opening the door before she'd even put the van in Park.

"Hey!" Tori snapped. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Getting out of the car." He launched through the door, dragging his backpack, marching to the garage door to stab the entry code while they sat in silence and shock.

"What's eating him?" Tori whispered, then turned to Kenzie. "Was it really something with a girl? Emma…whoever?"

Kenzie shook her head, staring at the open garage door that Finn had disappeared into. "That seems extreme. He just told me he liked her, or she might be into him or something." She cringed. "I wasn't really paying attention, TBH."

Into him?Tori's heart dropped. "I didn't even know he liked a girl. Maybe I haven't been paying enough attention, either."

They both sat in silence, thinking, then Kenzie put a hand on Tori's arm.

"You are going to marry Justin, right?" she asked.

Tori looked at her, not entirely sure how to answer that. "Honey, we haven't known each other a full year, and I spent four and a half months of it living in Boston. It's too soon to make that promise."

She felt the air slide out of Kenzie's next breath, her shoulders dropping. "Would you please tell me now if you're not going to marry him?"

"Why?"

"Because it would hurt to lose him."

Bingo. That was exactly the problem.

"I don't know if I'm going to marry him yet."

"Then I won't ask him to go to Flagler with me," Kenzie said, her voice a tiny bit sharp with disappointment. "I'll just skip it until next year."

"No, no, Kenzie. You shouldn't do that, and—"

Kenzie held up her hand. "It's fine, really. You're probably right."

With that, she opened the door, following Finnie into the garage and leaving Tori alone, wondering if everything really was so far, so good in this new life.

Finn's mooddidn't improve much over dinner, so afterwards, when Kenzie left to study with a girlfriend, Tori took a fortifying breath and trudged upstairs to his bedroom.

"Hey." She tapped a few times on his almost-closed door and waited for permission to come in, hoping he didn't have earbuds in. "Finnie?"

"Come in," he said, his voice still monotone with whatever it was that had him in such a foul mood. "What?" he asked from behind his computer screen at the desk.

She blinked at the cold question and glanced around the room, which was pretty much a hot mess.

"Housekeeping is here!" she joked, swooping down to pick up a sock and toss it into the hamper. "Can I turn down your bed, and by turn down, I mean, can I make it? For the first time today?"

He closed his eyes in silent consent, so she started fluffing pillows and clearing the bed of dirty clothes.

"All done with homework?" she asked.

"Ages ago. It's pretty easy at this school, Mom. I'm a good year ahead of everyone."

"Oh?" That was news to her. How much of what was going on in his life was just cruising right by her? "Well, that means you can coast a bit and get straight A's."

"Yeah." He clicked the keyboard and swiveled around to finally look at her. "Sorry for being a jerk."

"Oh, honey." She folded onto the bed to keep from throwing her arms around him. Even when apologizing, thirteen-year-old boys had serious personal space she wanted to respect. "I'm worried something's wrong, and if I don't know about it, I can't help you."

"You can't help me," he murmured, casting his eyes down.

"Maybe you could try me."

He swallowed and propped his elbows on his desk, burying his face in his hands. "I hate this place, Mom."

She sucked in a breath, certain she hadn't heard right.

"You…hate it here? On Amelia Island? With…everyone?" He'd been so engaged over Christmas, so connected with Rose's kids, and Justin. They'd gone sailing and had fun and…when did that change? "I don't understand."

"I guess it's the school," he said, head still down. "I hate those kids. I hate them."

"You're having a hard time making friends?" she asked, her voice rich with the sympathy she was ready to pour over him.

He wasn't the extrovert Kenzie was, and this age was so…in-between and difficult.

He finally lifted his head, shocking her with red-rimmed eyes and tears.

"Oh, Finnie!" She forgot about his personal space, leaping up to wrap her arms around him. "Honey, what's going on? What happened? Did someone hurt you? Tell me who it was, and they'll be so sorry."

He almost smiled. "'Sokay, there, Mama Bear. I can handle my own problems."

But could he? "Tell me what happened."

"It's…nothing." His eyes shuttered. "Just creepy kids who get their kicks from making other people's lives miserable."

"Were you bullied?" She straightened. "Then we'll go to the principal or…or the school board. We'll get those bullies taken care of."

"Please don't. I'd like to not make it worse."

"But what can you do? You have to have justice."

He snorted. "There's no justice in eighth grade, Mom. Just boneheads with no brains."

"That's right," she said. "No brains. No class. No future. And you have all that in spades. Just forget those kids! You're smarter, more athletic, and all-around better. You're half Wingate!"

He rolled his eyes and managed a smile. "Mom, you can't help me on this, okay?"

"But you're my son and your problem is my problem," she insisted. Then it occurred to her that maybe it was a guy thing, a problem he needed…a dad to solve. Should she offer up Justin? Or would she just get into the same circular discussion she'd had with Kenzie about him?

"It's my problem, Mom. I'll figure it out."

"Okay," she whispered, planting a kiss on his curls. "But I can't help you if you don't tell me what happened."

"It's nothing."

She squeezed his shoulders, knowing that couldn't be true, but accepting it…to a point. Then she added a purposeful look.

"If you are in any physical danger, you have to tell me, Finn. I don't care if I sound like a Mama Bear. You have to promise me that."

He nodded. "'Kay."

"I mean it."

"I'm not, Mom. It's just kids being…you know. Dumb."

"And you're not dumb." She squeezed him into another hug and gave him one more kiss before letting him go.

"I'll clean my room after I take my shower," he promised.

"Okay. Thank you. I love you." She slipped into the hallway, then leaned against the wall, only then realizing how upset she was.

Could he be in physical danger? Why wouldn't he tell her what happened?

With a heavy sigh, she did the only thing she could—poured a glass of wine and called Raina, who, as it turned out, had a few problems of her own. The visiting ex-mother-in-law who wanted to move in definitely put the brooding teenager in perspective.