North Country(16)

Dad sighs. “I’ll admit, Jon’s an acquired taste. He can overstep, and sometimes he’s a little too enthusiastic. But he works hard and he means well, and his opinion is valued around here.”

“Then we won’t have a problem.”

He opens his mouth but falters. “Good.”

Silence lingers as we each seem to search for a safe topic of conversation. Or an excuse to not continue one.

“Since when did this place turn into the Wild West?” I finally ask, jutting my chin toward his hat. “You used to say only fools wore those.”

“Did I?” Dad reaches up to touch the brim, a smile curving his lips. It’s the first genuine one I’ve seen since he met me outside the prison gates. “Turns out they’re practical. Keeps the sun and rain off my face. Don’t have to listen to your mother yell at me about sunscreen much anymore. Jon got us all hooked. You know he’s from Calgary, right?”

“And he grew up on a massive bison ranch. Yeah, Mom filled me in.” He’s the youngest of four, all of whom are looking to get their hands on the family business. I guess he likes his odds better here.

“Boy came with tons of experience and he loves the industry. He’s educated, and he’s got good ideas. I count on him for a lot, and he hasn’t let me down.” He adds after a beat, “Sure as hell could never say that about your brother.”

That was my dad’s dream, to have his eldest son take over— something Jay had no interest in doing. “You always were impossible to please. That’s why he never bothered trying.”

“Damn it, Logan, I can’t believe you’re still defending him after what he dragged you into.” Dad shakes his head. “And don’t you dare try to pin any of that mess on me, all that psychobabble about your parents not loving you two enough, or me being too hard on you.”

I knew this was going to be a bumpy reunion, but I didn’t think he’d be taking every opportunity to make sure the past was front and center. “I’m not blaming anyone but myself, trust me.” And I’ve gotten pretty good at it.

My father takes a deep breath. “Listen, tomorrow, we’ll get you reacquainted with how things work around here. Now, I don’t know about you, but I’m starved and beat after all that driving.”

“Yeah, I’ll be there in a minute.” If I don’t run and hide first.

He looks back at the house as the roars of laughter carry through cracked windows. “I guess this might be a lot for you to handle.”

“Something like that.”

He nods. “Well … your mother sure is happy.”

I answer by chugging back a large gulp of my beer, my gaze on the horizon and the expanse of land and trees between me and the dimming sky.

Dad leaves me outside to the chilly air and the peaceful silence, and I quietly thank him for that much grace.

What would happen if I just left? Grabbed a sleeping bag and tent, hopped into one of the trucks, and headed north until the flatlands give way to dense wilderness. Vanish into the trees. I’d lift the burden of my presence from my family.

Would the authorities chase after me? Of course they would. I still have eight years left in my sentence and I practically wear a sign around my neck that says “Cop killer,” even though I never killed anyone. I never even aimed.

They’d never find me. At least, not alive.

A car door slams next door, drawing my focus. Movement stirs on the porch and a moment later, the house lights shine, punctuated by a dog’s bark.

An overwhelming urge goads me to walk there, to get this conversation over with so I know where Emery and I stand, and yet my feet are stuck to the earth beneath me. For all the times in my life that I’ve run across that field as a boy, eager to see her, to share news, to touch her … now I don’t have the stones to take a single step forward.

When she’s ready to face me, she’ll come around.

With one last lingering look, I reluctantly head inside.





Chapter 6





Emery




Vehicles clutter the driveway next door as I roll up my own. When Annie told me about Logan’s Welcome Home party, I suggested waiting a few weeks to let him get settled. But Annie, normally a rational woman, was too excited to see reason.

I hope it doesn’t backfire on her.

Isla just arrived home and is heaving her hockey bag out of Dillon’s sedan, bowing under the weight of it. Dillon leans against his driver-side door, arms folded across his chest. Donna is nowhere to be seen, which is usually par for the course. She makes her best effort to not cross paths with me, and I appreciate her for it. Forced pleasantries have never been my strong suit.

I park and climb out, desperate to shed my uniform and take a shower. “Tough game?” They lost 2–1 according to the alerts that popped up on my phone.

Isla rolls her eyes at me and then marches up the steps, her hair bound in a tight braid and matted from her helmet.

“We’re not finished our conversation!” Dillon hollers, but she ignores him, dropping her equipment on the porch, unzipping the bag, and disappearing into the house. A moment later, the lights flash on.

“At least she hasn’t left us in the dark,” Dillon notes as Duke barks once.

I take a deep, calming breath—as I always do when I’m in the same vicinity as my ex-husband. “What’s that about?” It wouldn’t be the first time Isla’s in a huff when her father drops her off. He likes to spend the long drive home highlighting all the mistakes she made on the ice. I don’t blame her for getting irritated. The kid can skate circles around him.