A Man of Honor by Miranda Liasson

the house looks worse than ever. Maybe you shouldn’t—”
    “That’s because nobody’s home. Keep the car running, and if anyone from this neighborhood pulls a gun, tries to sell you a bag of weed, or flashes you, drive off and go home.”
    “I have a better idea,” Cat said with a devilish look in her eyes. “I’ll honk once for a suspicious-looking person, twice if I see a gun, and if the flasher is cute, I’ll sit back and enjoy the show.”
    What was he thinking, bringing her here? He obviously lost all judgment when he got within ten feet of her. “This was a mistake. Let’s go back, and I’ll find someone else who weighs more than a sack of sugar.”
    “Preston, it’s not that bad of a neighborhood.” She gave him a little push so he would get out of the car. “Just go in and get the poor cat.”
    The neighborhood didn’t really give him the creeps. It was all the memories of his father that did. Thank God Vernon Guthrie was well into his rehab stint and wouldn’t be here.
    His parents had finally divorced when Preston was a young teenager, and he and Jared lived with their mother for a few years. Preston had just graduated from college when his mother died suddenly of a heart ailment. He’d gone into finance and investing with the hope that he would make enough to send Jared to college, pay off his mother’s debts, and keep a roof over their heads. By the time Nick and he had started their venture capital business, he’d been doing well enough, and the risks they took paid off in spades. From the time he’d taken responsibility for Jared, they’d never gone back to this hellhole. Although their father continued to pop up at times, always to ask for money.
    He thought of the abandoned animal and mumbled a curse under his breath. There was no comfort in knowing his father didn’t treat animals any better than he did his own children.
    The front door was locked, but he picked it easily with a credit card. One survival skill from his past he could be thankful for. The living room he stepped into looked like an episode of Hoarders , with empty beer cans and piles of papers everywhere. An ungodly stench hit his nose, far worse than the smell of greasy fried food and old cigarette smoke. Maybe from the cat being shut in here for more than a week without any care? Fortunately, Harry came bolting out from the kitchen, thin and a little raggedy but meowing loudly. He rubbed around Preston’s legs. Preston stooped down to pick up the animal when he heard the voice he dreaded.
    “What are you doing here, son?”
    Preston startled and accidentally dropped the cat, which skittered away, dammit. An unshaven man with a week’s worth of beard, wearing a white sleeveless undershirt and brown pants worn thin at the knees, stood at the junction of the living room and a screened-in porch.
    Preston straightened, reminding himself he was six inches taller and at least fifty pounds heavier than his father. “Hello, Vernon. I could ask you the same question.”
    “Aw, I got tired of those know-it-all rich folks breathing down my neck all the time. I’m just taking a little break, getting things in order, then I’ll go back, I promise.” His bleary gaze roamed over Preston from head to toe. “How are you? Heard you got your leg shot up over there in Afghanistan.”
    “I’m doing great.” And thanks for your concern . “You know that was part of the deal—you promised you’d spend the entire time in rehab.” They’d agreed that Preston would pay for the stint in rehab, continued therapy afterward, and whatever else Vernon needed. Vernon’s end of the deal was to simply show up, and clearly, that had been too much to ask.
    Sometimes he wondered why he even tried with his father. God knows, the man had wreaked enough havoc on their family. Preston had promised his mother on her deathbed that he would try to help him, but so far, three stints in rehab and all the money in the world hadn’t managed to buy