Page 121 of Saddle Storm

“Grandpa!” Max calls, zooming into Dad’s room, which is unusually wide open. They’ve moved him from the bed into a padded recliner by the window.

“There he is,” Dad laughs, setting down a book on the side table and spreading his arms wide.

Max knows to be careful when leaning in for a hug, but it’s Dad who needs to be reminded this time when he forgets he’s tethered to a machine now.

I tap his shoulder and he releases with a grunt. “What are you feedin’ this kid, love bug? Bricks?”

I smile. Dad hasn’t called me that in years. I’ve been checking in with a call to him or his nurses a few times a week and they’ve told me he’s been more alert. Finishing his meals, arguing less, and joking around more. Bridgett even mentioned he’s been so flirtatious that she almost checked his ID bracelet to make sure she had the right room.

It’s one of the reasons I brought a few guests with me today. But I won’t bring them all in at once.

He studies my son like he’s buying a new car. “What’d you grow, three feet since I last saw you?”

“Two inches and a few too many Halloween candy bars.”

Dad’s eyes grow wide. “Did ya save me any?”

Max slips a few Hershey’s Kisses out of the pocket of his jacket. Silas’s jacket, which he’s refusing to trade in for a winter coat now that temperatures have dropped.

“That’s my boy,” Dad whispers, like I’m not seeing any of this.

There’s color in his cheeks today. Eyes clear and awake. “You look good.”

He waves me off but the corner of his mouth turns up. “Knew you were coming so I put on my good robe.”

I suck in a breath, crossing my fingers. “Well, I didn’t come . . . alone.”

Dad looks up at me, but it’s barely a glare. It’s an unspoken question if it’s who he thinks it is.

Silas steps in, clean-shaven, a tan long-sleeve T-shirt hugging his shoulders, hands shoved into his jean pockets.

It’s been ten years since my father told him to stay away from me. Since Silas listened and resented him for it. And even though in my heart, I know they’re ready for it, I’m a nervous wreck.

Silas nods, stepping into the room and keeping a safe distance. “Sir.”

Dad squints at him, lifting his chin. “You trade in those skates for a pair of boots yet?”

Silas grins. “Not yet.”

Dad glances at his right arm. “Took a pretty bad hit out there.”

I frown. He almost sounds concerned.

Silas shakes his head easily. “Cleared to play, starting next week. I’ll be annoying defensemen in no time.”

Dad scoffs. “Huh. You were always that.”

Max sneaks a Hershey’s Kiss, watching the exchange like he senses something, but accepts it’s beyond his understanding.

There’s a quiet beat. “Listen, kid,” Dad starts with a grunt.

Uh-oh.

“I don’t care what else you break out there.” He sits up and my eyes dart to the monitor. “You just be sure it doesn’t belong to my daughter.”

I release a breath. Fair enough.

“I think it’s safe to say you and I want the same thing when it comes to them, Mr. Dalton.” Silas looks at me, a sure, steady, knowing grin like this is something he’s long decided. “I’m not going anywhere.”