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“They always do. That’s the road, too. And the only way to reach the destination.” Connor took a drink.
“Are we done with this conversation?”
“I think we’ve covered it sufficiently.”
“Good,” Gabriel said, shifting in his chair. “I feel like I’m in a therapist’s office.”
Connor snorted. “No member of the NAC Pack has ever willingly walked into a therapist’s office. Court order? Maybe. But not willingly.”
“That’s because we’re surrounded by things that comfort,” Gabriel said, moving closer to the fire and crossing his ankles on the fire pit’s stone surround. “You have darkness, stars, booze, fire. There is nothing more that you need. Except possibly a good woman.”
And, by his reckoning, his son was moving closer to that particulargoal.
