“You are.”
“It’s level.”
Dad squinted at the level.
Then squinted at Beast.
“It’s lying.”
Trigger nearly fell off the ladder laughing.
I stood at the kitchen table with Mrs. Jenkins, Doris, and Betty, trying very hard not to laugh too loudly.
Trying.
Failing.
Beast looked over at me.
His eyes narrowed.
“You think this is funny?”
“A little.”
He shook his head.
Then smiled.
That small smile.
The one that still made my heart flutter.
Even after everything.
Especially after everything.
The ranch was beginning to feel like ours again.
Not Gerald’s.
Not the place where I had been afraid.
Mine.
Dad’s.
Even Beast’s, he hasn’t left, since he said he loved me.
The morning sun poured through the open window frame.
Fresh air moved through the kitchen.
The smell of coffee and cinnamon rolls filled the house.
Mrs. Jenkins had brought them over because, apparently, no crisis in Eagle River could be handled without baked goods.
“You need to eat,” she told Beast.
