She stood there with the refrigerator door open, unsure how to respond. He was so direct. She kept her eyes on the bright white shelves and didn’t say anything.

“I was disappointed,” he continued. “I won’t sugarcoat it. I think any father would be. I think any parent would be.”

“Trust me,” she said, slamming the refrigerator door. “I got the memo.”

“I don’t think you did,” he said. “I don’t think you understand me at all.”

She waited, listening.

“When you went to that party, when you got arrested—” He shook his head. “You acted like I was the one who showed up and shoved you into a cop car. You wouldn’t speak to me for weeks.”

Her cheeks warmed. She remembered that.

“I was worried,” her father said. “I didn’t want you to miss out on anything you wanted to do, because of one mistake.”

“James isn’t a mistake.” The words came out of her mouth like an attack.

“I didn’t say he was.” He paused. “Going to that party to prove a point to your overbearing father was a mistake.”

She flinched. He was right. “I didn’t miss out on anything,” she said. Her voice was small.

“I know. You’ve worked very hard. I’m proud of you.”

Anything she could have said was trapped in her throat by sudden emotion. He said it so simply, like anything else. Like he didn’t realize how long she’d been waiting to hear him say those exact words.

Before she could change her mind, she crossed the kitchen and threw her arms around his neck.

If he was surprised, she didn’t feel it. He hugged her back as if he held her every day. His arms were warm and secure and familiar, despite the fact that she hadn’t hugged him in years.

“I missed this,” she said.

“Me too.” He didn’t let go.

Then she remembered the pillows and blankets. “If Mom’s not making you sleep in the basement, then what’s going on?”

James came bursting into the kitchen, full of the energy only kindergartners could find at five o’clock in the morning. He tackled her and her father at the same time, as if they did group hugs on a daily basis. “Mommy! Mommy! The big kids are here for a sleepover, and they said we could play the Lego game on Xbox later!”

“The Lego game?” She drew back to look at him. “The big kids? What—”

“I took your advice,” said her father. “You were right. I should have been more compassionate.”

She was too tired. Her brain couldn’t process this. “What?”

“Michael still doesn’t have custody. So his brothers are staying with us.”

CHAPTER 33

The day had been overcast for the funeral, but now the sun was peeking through the clouds. Michael took that as a sign. He turned his suit coat inside out, laid it on the grass, and sat.

Casper curled up at his feet.

He’d tried to give the dog back to Hunter’s mother, but Casper kept escaping from her house—and showing up on Tyler’s doorstep, scratching and whining to be let in.

After the third time, Mrs. Garrity had asked Michael if he’d like to keep him.

It hadn’t seemed as if it was up to him—and how could he refuse?

Anyway, it was nice to have company.

He felt someone coming across the field at about the same time as Casper raised his head, his ears alert. The service had been over for hours and his brothers had all gone home with the fire marshal. He wasn’t sure who else would be walking out this way.

He glanced over his shoulder, expecting Hunter’s mother.

No. Hannah.

Surprised, he got to his feet and brushed dried grass from his pants. He’d seen her at the funeral, of course, but she’d stood with her parents and James while he’d stood with his brothers.

They’d barely spoken all week—and when they had talked, it had seemed accidental, as if he’d caught her by surprise when he was stopping in to see his brothers.

Here he’d thought it was awkward before.

“Hey,” he said, when she drew close. He couldn’t keep the confusion out of his voice.

“Hey yourself,” she said in return. She gave him a clear once-over. “You look good in a suit.”

Michael found himself blushing and told himself to knock it off. “I had to buy it for court.” He wanted to tell her she looked good in her wool skirt and boots, but he wasn’t sure how that would come across.

But she did. She somehow looked soft and gentle, yet strong and fearless at the same time.

His brothers had offered to talk to Hannah on his behalf, and he’d told them to stay out of it and keep their mouths shut. Right now, facing her, he regretted that. He’d do anything for a little insight.

Hannah looked around. “At first I thought this was an odd place for a funeral, but now I think I kind of get it.”

They stood at the edge of a large, open field by the water, part of Lake Waterford Park. Hunter’s mother had chosen the location—she’d wanted to have a service somewhere her son would have enjoyed spending time.

A gravestone would be going next to his father’s, back at some cemetery in Pennsylvania.

Michael preferred the atmosphere here. He was glad there’d been no body to bury. Watching a box get lowered into the ground, feeling every shovelful of dirt—he wouldn’t have been able to take it. His parents’ funeral had been bad for exactly that reason, but Hunter was different. Hunter was a kid. He’d trusted Michael. Relied on him.