“I’m Sophie.” She hung Jen’s coat on a peg. “Wyatt’s mom. And you must be Jen.”
She took Jen’s hands and squeezed them with firmness. “I’m glad you’re here.”
And that was it.
Jen swallowed. “I’m glad, too.”
Sophie’s gaze slid to her son, softening. “Wyatt, sweetheart.”
She kissed his cheek as Ellie wriggled between them, shrieking, “Gramma!”
A man stepped out of the kitchen, drying his hands on a towel.
“Dad,” Wyatt said.
Tall and broad-shouldered, he had the same intense eyes as his son —and a face marked by old damage. Scar tissue threaded through the stubble on his left cheek, tugging at the corner of his mouth. He had the look of someone who’d been hurt and come back stronger for it.
His father pulled him into a brief shoulder hug. “Good to see you upright after that rig.”
Then his attention shifted to Jen. “This must be the engineer Caro’s been singing about.”
“Just Jen,” she said quickly, offering her hand.
He ignored it and pulled her into a bear hug instead. “Welcome. I’m Tyler.” He patted her back and let go. “Good to see you both in one piece. After those bastards.”
Her throat burned.
They weren’t weighing her. They’d already made space. She’d braced for questions, for assessment. Instead, she’d been folded in as if she’d always had a place here.
She didn’t know what to do with that.
Sophie shepherded them into the house as Ellie tore ahead.
Jen followed Wyatt into the dining room and stopped.
The table was bedlam.
A woman with a sweep of long dark hair wrestled a laughing baby with furious legs into a high chair. Two men—Ryder and Caleb—were mid-argument over something involving snowmobiles and horsepower. A blonde woman sat at the end of the table talking with Caro.
Caro.
She turned as Jen entered the room, and her face lit up. “Chief!”
Jen pressed a hand to her chest and took a breath. Caro looked good. Rosy-cheeked in a pink sweater instead of oil-stained coveralls. A far cry from the terrified woman who’d climbed a vent shaft and taken a bullet keeping hostages moving.
Tears welled behind Jen’s eyelids, but she blinked them back. “Hey, Caro.”
Caro crossed the room and hugged her hard. “It’s so good to see you.”
“Right back at you.”
“This is Ivy,” Caro said, gesturing to the blonde. “And Grace.” The dark-haired woman beside Caleb.
Grace shifted the baby to one hip, giving up on the high chair entirely, and smiled. “Hi. This is Josie. She’s teething and deeply offended by it.”
Josie gummed a fist and glared.
“Here. Let me take her for a bit.” Caleb scooped the baby out of Grace’s arms and kissed the top of her fuzzy head.
