Page 18 of Lucky Haven

But right now, everything I want is in town. “It’s good to see the house being lived in, don’t worry. All I care about is having a seat at the table sometimes for dinner.”

“Always,” she promises. “We made a roast for tonight, with carrots and parsnips and fresh peas from the garden.”

“Fuck yeah,” Dax says, laughing. “Welcome to the family officially, Hope.”

She blushes again. “I think it’s not official official until we actually say vows, right?”

“We’re not big rule followers,” I say.

“Fucking should be,” Ridge mutters. To me, not to Hope. To her, he nods again. “But you’re already family. Don’t need to marry Zane for that to be true. Especially with a baby on the way.”

“Thank you,” she says softly.

Zane comes from around the barn, carrying a sobbing three-year-old. Our mother is behind her with a basket of eggs on her arm and a brand new I Choose The Bear t-shirt draped over her petite form. She likes to collect t-shirts that remind us to live our values out loud, and it doesn’t get louder than that.

“Nice shirt,” I say as I fall in beside her, shortening my stride to match hers as we head to the house.

She beams at me. It’s an easy bar to clear, reminding my mom that I know the world is unfair, and I’ll always have her back.

Inside the house, Hope disappears with Bellamy to soothe her chicken-offended feelings, and Zane checks the roast in the oven. Dax fills us in on the latest from the rodeo circuit. Ridge tells us what’s going on with the cattle herd, and Luna talks about a new art project she just started.

It’s exactly like we’ve spent countless family dinners over the last five years.

For the first time, it feels like something is missing.

That thought sticks around as we eat, but it gets drowned out a bit by the fresh chaos that descends with Bellamy’s rambunctious return.

Dinner is different with a toddler. Louder in some ways, quieter in others. Four grown men stifling our instincts to pepper all stories with expletives. And there’s a softness in my mother that I haven’t seen maybe ever. Her eyes glow as she looks at Bellamy as she coaxes the little girl to try a yummy parsnip.

After dinner, we’re just about to have dessert when Dax looks at his phone and abruptly announces that he is going to head out early.

“I’m going to head to Bar None. Looks busy tonight, and I want to catch up with some people before I head out of town again.”

“Do you want a ride back into town?” I ask. It’s a good excuse for me to cut out early, too. “Then you don’t have to worry about your truck at the end of the night.”

“Sure, thanks.” He grins at Ridge. “You want to come with us?”

“Fuck no,” our oldest brother growls. “I’ve got an early morning.”

We all do, but that won’t stop Dax.

My plan is just to drop him off, not go in with him, but that plan goes out the window as soon as I pull up in front and see a dark red ponytail swish under the entrance sign.

Haven’s here, with Mercy.

At the start of the summer, the diner owner asked me for a favour. She had a frightened woman in her restaurant who had a broken down car and needed a quiet job. Could I fix the car, and wait until she found some work to charge her for the labour?

Of course I could. And I could do one better—I knew that Luna needed help picking her spring kale harvest.

Now that favour is marrying my brother, and everyone is happier than can be.

So I asked Mercy for a small favour in return, because she owed me one. Haven wasn’t properly welcomed back to town when she took the librarian job, and that was an oversight. Maybe Mercy could hang out with her a few times.

I was thinking the farmer’s market on Saturday mornings. Maybe a book club.

Not bringing the sweetest, most innocent woman in all of Dragonfly Creek to Bar None on a Thursday night, when deep fried pickles are half-price and the beer is flowing extra hard.

“I’ll come in for a drink,” I mutter to Dax.