A crash from inside. Someone laughed. A baby wailed briefly, then stopped.
“Welcome to family dinner,” Coop said and pulled me through the door.
The lodge was packed. Bodies everywhere—sprawled on couches, crowded around a massive dining table, gathered in clusters near the fireplace. Kids weaved between legs. Dogs tracked crumbs across the hardwood.
Jada Banks found me first, warm smile already in place. I’d met her a couple times over the past couple weeks. She also did some part-time work at Pawsitive.
“Mia! I’m so glad you came.” She pulled me into a hug before I could overthink it. “Hunter’s around here somewhere. Probably arguing with Lucas about the best way to smoke a brisket. It’s been going on for three years. Nobody’s winning.”
Hunter materialized at her side. “I’m winning. He just won’t admit it.”
“You keep telling yourself that,” Lucas called from across the room.
Beckett and Audra appeared next. Audra caught my eye and gave me a small nod—solidarity. Beckett clapped Coop on the shoulder hard enough to make him stagger. “About time. Lachlan’s been hogging all the good beer.”
“Slander.” Lachlan, sheriff of Garnet Bend, emerged from the kitchen, a twin toddler balanced in each arm. Sadie and Caleb. His wife Piper trailed behind him, and when she caught my gaze, her smile was soft and gentle, like the woman herself.
Another woman who’d arrived here broken and found herself pieced back together.
Lucas Everett, one of the founders of Resting Warrior, and his wife Evelyn were corralling their kids near the food table. Lark waved from across the room, red hair catching the firelight. And then there were the others—Daniel and Emma standing close, Liam and the ever-quiet Mara near the bookshelf, Jude next to Lena with her purple streaks bright in the lamplight.
I tried to catalog it all. The easy touches. The overlapping conversations. The way people moved around each other like water, filling gaps, anticipating needs.
Then Lena’s voice cut through the noise. “Okay, but we need to talk about what happened with Thunder and the butterfly.”
Groans erupted around the room. Beckett dropped his head into his hands. “We really don’t.”
“We really do.” Lena was already grinning. “For those who haven’t heard—and Mia, you definitely haven’t heard—Thunder is this massive Belgian Malinois. Security dog. Trained to take down armed intruders without hesitation.”
Beckett groaned. “Lena, I swear to God?—”
“So, Beckett’s doing a demonstration for some potential clients last month. Very serious. Very professional. Thunder’s in full work mode.” She paused for effect. “Until a monarch butterfly lands on his nose. And this eighty-pound killing machine completely loses his mind. Spinning in circles, snapping at the air, practically crying.”
The room dissolved into laughter. Even the people who’d clearly heard this story before were grinning.
“He didn’t run in circles,” Beckett protested. “He just…relocated. Quickly.”
“Oh, he so ran in circles,” Audra confirmed. “I have video.”
“You do not.”
She grinned at Beckett, love shining in her eyes. “I do. I’m saving it for leverage.”
The teasing continued, layering over itself—someone mentioned the time Duchess figured out how to unlock her stall and raided the feed room at three a.m. Someone else brought up Al Pacacino’s ongoing feud with the barn cats. Stories flowed with the drinks, each one building on the last, and I found myself laughing.
Actually laughing, not just performing it.
Dinner was chaos. Beautiful, overwhelming chaos. The table wasn’t big enough for everyone, so people spilled onto couches and chairs and corners of the floor. A water glass got knocked over, and nobody cared. One of the kids fed half their dinner to a dog under the table while their parents pretended not to notice.
Somewhere between the main course and dessert, Audra and Lark cornered me near the kitchen where I’d stepped in alone, just for a breath.
“Escaping?” Lark asked, pressing a fresh glass of wine into my hand.
“Breathing.” I leaned against the counter. “There are a lot of people out there.”
“There are.” Audra crossed her arms, settling in beside me. “I hid in the bathroom for twenty minutes my first family dinner.”
“Only twenty?”
