Wyatt didn’t move. Not right away. “It’s dark, Dad.”
“Got floodlights.”
Caleb perked up. “New toy?”
“It’s not a toy,” Ty shrugged on his jacket. “It’s a vehicle.”
Ryder was already standing. “This I gotta see.”
Jen was mid-conversation with Caro, her fingers wrapped around a coffee mug, relaxed in a way he’d rarely seen her. Lamplight caught the curve of her jaw, the way her hair fell across her shoulder when she leaned in to listen. She glanced over, read him in half a second, and smiled.
I’m good.
He stood and followed his dad, but checked over his shoulder before he left the dining room.
Jen was laughing at something his mum had said, Ellie now settled in her lap with chocolate-smeared fingers, as if it wasthe most natural thing in the world for her to be there—in the middle of his family.
He turned away before he could think too hard about that.
The night had sharpened since they arrived at his parents’. The floodlights over the equipment shed threw everything into hard white contrast against the dark.
Ty’s new Arctic Cat sat inside, matte black and chrome. His dad ran a hand along the cowling with quiet reverence.
He grinned at Wyatt. “Rebuilt the suspension. New track. She’ll do ninety on hardpack without floating.”
Wyatt nodded and shoved his hands in his pockets, his breath fogging in the cold.
Behind him, Ryder and Caleb followed them out, already arguing over something that sounded like a grudge with a long memory.
Ty walked him through the specs. Wyatt listened and gave appropriate grunts. He ran a hand along the rail, the cold metal biting into his skin.
He was only half here.
The rest of him was still inside, at the dining table under warm light, with Jen.
The back door opened. His mum leaned out, arms crossed against the cold. “Honey? The dishwasher’s doing that thing again.”
Ty sighed—the long-suffering sound of a man who’d learnedthat thingmeantnow. “Be right back.”
The door closed behind him.
Wyatt didn’t look at his brothers. He’d known this was coming since Jen walked through the front door and Caleb’s eyebrows had almost left his face.
Silence settled over the yard, broken only by the distant rush of the river.
Caleb circled the snowmobile, pretending to be interested. He stopped. “So. Jen didn’t stay in a hotel.”
Wyatt kept his eyes on the sled. “No.”
“Interesting.”
“Not really.”
Ryder leaned back against the trailer, arms folded, a smirk firmly in place. “Sunday dinner, brother.”
“What about it?”
“You don’t bring women here. Ever.”
