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He set me down but kept his hands on my shoulders, studying my face with those warm brown eyes that Randy had inherited. Where Seth and I got Mom's fair coloring, Randy was all Dad, from his darker hair to his broader build. Dad's smile was exactly the same, the one that had always made me feel like the most important person in the world.

“You look good, JoJo. That job at the veterinary clinic treating you well?”

“Little Grandma outdid herself finding it for me. Dr. Hart, I mean Roxie, is great, and the clinic is busier than you'd expect.”

His smile dimmed slightly, concern creeping into his expression. “Your mother mentioned you're working nights.”

“Yeah, and it’s great. I get to spend all my time loving on the animals.”

“Alone?”

“Dad.”

“It's a valid question. The clinic's on the edge of town, and that parking lot doesn't have the best lighting.”

“Roxie had new security lights installed last year.”

“Still.” He crossed his arms, his protective father mode fully engaged. “You still carrying that pepper spray I got you?”

“Always.” I pulled my keychain from my pocket, showing him the small canister attached. “See? Right where it should be.”

“Good. What about some refresher sessions with your brothers? Been a while since they put you through your paces.”

I rolled my eyes. “I'm fine, Dad. Seth and Randy made sure I knew how to handle myself before I left for community college.”

“That was years ago. Skills get rusty.”

“My skills are not rusty.”

His face shifted into what Mom called his sad puppy expression, the one he'd perfected over years of trying to get his way. “Still won't carry a gun?”

“We've been over this a dozen times.”

“Thirteen, actually,” Mom interjected. “I've been counting.”

“I know, I know.” He pulled me in for another hug, gentler this time, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. “Just want you safe. Can't blame a father for that.”

“I am safe.”

“You'd be safer here,” Mom said, adding heavy cream to the boiled potatoes before she mashed them. “Living with us instead of clear across town with Miss Laverne.”

Dad perked up like a hunting dog catching a scent. “Now that's a thought. Your room's exactly how you left it. That bookshelf is still full of those romance novels you used to hide under your bed.”

“Dad!” My face burned.

“What? I'm just saying, we've got plenty of space. You could save money on rent and have home-cooked meals every night.”

“Miss Laverne doesn't charge me much, and she cooks too.”

“But does she make pot roast like your mother?”

I laughed and shook my head. “You two are impossible. Tag-teaming me like this.”

“Can't blame us for trying.” He winked at me. “Though I suppose Miss Laverne's place is nice enough. She still making that cornbread that won the county fair three years running?”

“Four years now. She's got the fourth ribbon hanging in the kitchen.”

“Well then.” He wrapped an arm around my shoulders, pulling me against his side. “Guess I can't compete with award-winning cornbread. But you better visit enough that your mother stops giving me those looks.”