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“Middle,” Carter said. “I want to be by Kodi.”

The fit was tight but neither of the kids seemed to mind. They were practically vibrating with anticipation.

“You going to be okay back here?” he asked as they arranged their backpacks on the floor at their feet.

“Yep,” Riley answered for both of them. “We’re great.”

He had the strong sense that they could have been strapped to the roof and still claimed to be great, as long as the trip ended with them seeing their mom.

He went around to the driver’s side. When he climbed in, he found Hannah adjusting the seat, her own backpack at her feet.

“I turned on the heated seat for you,” he said. “Turn it off if you get too warm.”

“I’ll do that,” she said, fastening her seat belt.

He started the engine, glanced once more at the empty, snow-covered street and eased away from the curb.

The soft, delicious smell of her teased him, reminding him of mountain wildflowers after a spring shower. He was fiercely aware of the heat of her beside him, filling up the space inside the pickup truck. She shifted in the seat and he couldn’t seem to keep his eyes on the road, drawn by the movement. The confined space made it impossible for him to ignore how perfect she seemed beside him, as familiar to him as his own breathing.

He gripped the steering wheel a little tighter. How many times had she sat beside him like this when they were together as they headed for dinner, to the lake, to park at a trailhead somewhere? More than he could count.

As they drove through the still-quiet streets of Shelter Springs, passing houses with porch lights just flicking off and faint curls of smoke rising from chimneys, Wes wondered how he was going to endure two full days in Hannah’s company without tying his insides into permanent knots.

It didn’t matter. He had said yes. He would see it through. He could suck it up and do the right thing, no matter how difficult.

“Does Morgan know you and the children are coming down?” he asked once they had cleared the last stoplight in town and were headed toward Boise, where they would catch the interstate.

Hannah shook her head. “It’s a surprise,” she said. “I did talk to the staff at the cancer center. They cleared it, as long as we follow their rules.”

“I hope it’s a good surprise,” he said.

“I hope so too.” She twisted in her seat to look back at the kids. “We have presents for her, remember?”

“It’s her birthday,” Riley said proudly. “We made ornaments for her little tree.”

“And we got her a robe and slippers,” Carter added. “They’re blue. That’s her favorite. She loves everything blue.”

“I’m sure she’s going to love all of it,” Wes said. “We’ll get there as fast as we can. There’s some weather coming in later this morning, but it shouldn’t be too bad.”

“But we have one rule, don’t we?” Hannah prompted.

Carter sighed theatrically. “Yes. We can’t ask if we’re there yet.”

Wes smiled, the familiar refrain tugging at old memories. Summer road trips in his parents’ minivan. His dad joking about turning around if he heard the question one more time. His mom passing back sandwiches cut into triangles.

Every year, his father would bring in a substitute pharmacist for a week or two and they would head somewhere as a family. Down the Oregon coast, to Crater Lake, Redwood National Park, once all the way to Banff.

He’d grown up believing the world was big and beautiful and mostly good.

Until the night it wasn’t.

Anger flared, sharp and familiar, as it always did at the thought of what had been done to his parents. He shoved it down, the way he had taught himself to do over the years.

“Do you remember that time we drove to Sun Valley?” Hannah asked, almost as if she had been tracking his thoughts.

“I do,” he said. “I remember we barely had enough money between us for gas. We pitched the tent at the first free campsite we could find and lived on peanut butter sandwiches and ramen for two days.”

“Don’t forget the oatmeal packets,” she added. “We had those for breakfast. And terrible instant coffee.”