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“Checkers,” Layla repeated. “We can do that.”

Dr. Conroy smiled kindly. “You’re doing all the right things for him. And yourselves.”

He was referring to the part-time caregiver we’d hired at the beginning of the year. Mom couldn’t chase after Dad in icy winter conditions or rely on neighbors to rescue him when Layla, Waylon, or I weren’t available.

And yes, Waylon had bolted to the top of the emergency contact list, ahead of Cooper and Dexter, who had families of their own. No doubt that was a topic of gossip in Wood Hollow. It was impossible to keep track of who knew what about Dad’s care anymore and frankly, the honesty was freeing. Dad had dementia.

We thanked Dr. Conroy, collected Dad from the waiting room, and stepped outside into the winter afternoon. I offered to get the car and save my parents the hassle of navigating the arctic breeze on icy sidewalks. Layla joined me.

“I need to move,” she groused. “Sitting in that room, listening to all that…ugh.”

“How are you holding up? I know this is a lot.”

Layla sighed, gnawing her bottom lip, her hands buried in her coat pockets. “Honestly, I don’t know how I am. I try not to think about this too much ’cause every time I do, I want to cry.”

I swallowed hard. “Yeah. I get that.”

“Remember that photo we took summer before last of the whole family at the lake for Mom and Dad’s fiftieth wedding anniversary?”

I grinned. “Yeah. The photographer requested that we wear white shirts and blue jeans.”

“Dad was irate. ‘We’ll look like a damn Gap ad!’ Crusty old man.” She snickered affectionately. “He was grumbling the whole time and yet somehow, it was fun, and that picture is so beautiful.”

I had an 8x10 of that photo at home and on my desk at the station. Mom, Dad, Rhys, Gretchen, Layla and her husband and kids…and even Tate. The sunlight had cast a golden sheen on the water behind us, giving the moment an ethereal quality. Every smile was genuine and earnest.

“Yeah. It’s a great picture.” I aimed the fob at the Cadillac my father hadn’t been able to drive in nearly a year.

Layla closed her eyes briefly, tugging at her gloves. “It kills me to think that’s over. We’ll never be the same again.”

“Hey. C’mere.” I pulled her into my arms and hugged her close while she cried softly. “We’ll stick together, and we’ll be okay.”

Like any siblings, we had our issues, but we loved one another fiercely. However, our upbringings had been like night and day. I was the firstborn son, and my folks had always had big expectations for me—from the womb. Layla was their miracle baby, born after years of struggling to conceive and at least two miscarriages that no one talked about.

Now Layla was the mother of two preschoolers, married to a lawyer who worked for a new firm in Elmwood, and she was Cooper’s secretary at the mill. Coop thought it was a funny twist of fate that the little rugrat with pigtails who used to follow us around was his official gatekeeper. He joked that we couldn’t escape her. No one could. Layla liked having her nose in everyone’s business. It was an annoying quirk she’d never outgrown.

I didn’t always understand her. We were from different generations and sometimes, it felt like we’d had different parents with different sets of rules. I was the one who quietly handled problems no one else wanted to and Layla was the one who asked how things were going after shit hit the fan.

But this wasn’t the type of problem we could ignore or wish away, and Layla knew it.

She pulled away, sniffling. “How about you?”

“I’m fine.” I made a face when she rolled her eyes, pleased I could still make her laugh. “What? You think I’m not?”

“A house could be falling around your ears, and you’d say everything is fine, Reg. But I have to say, I think the mountain man is good for you. Hell, he’s good for all of us.”

This was where I’d scoff, tell Layla to stay in her own lane, and warn her not to push me for a scoop of gossip. It would piss her off, but at least boundaries would be reestablished. I just didn’t have it in me to deny that she was right. So fucking right.

I slid behind the wheel and waited till she’d climbed into the passenger seat to reply. “Waylon’s a nice guy.”

“You’re a nice guy, too.” Layla leaned in to kiss my cheek; then she punched my arm lightly and motioned for me to get moving. “Let’s get the show on the road, big brother. I have to get to the office. And oooh, I can’t wait to tell Emily about Dr. Conroy. Damn, that man is fi-iiiine!”

I dropped Layla off at the mill and drove straight to Mom and Dad’s house. I helped them navigate the steps and left the keys to the Cadillac in the kitchen.

My parents stood on the porch waving as if it weren’t twenty degrees outside. As if nothing were wrong.

And maybe…nothing was wrong. They had each other. They were a team and had been for years.

Fifty-plus years of friendship, family, love. No matter what happened, she’d never leave his side, never give up on him, never wish a single second away. There was something so painfully beautiful in knowing you were never truly alone.