“Mike –” I whispered but got no further.

Mike kept talking. “The kids settled in fast. They never complained. What they had with me was better than what their Mom gave them but I knew it wasn’t that. They were lookin’ out for their Dad. They didn’t want to say shit or do shit that would make me feel shit. But still, the house we had was a home. This didn’t feel that way to me and I figure it didn’t feel that way to them. Not until last Saturday with music, kids, decorations, plastic bowls of food and a huge-ass, homemade cake. Reesee smilin’ and happy. No entertainin’ his crew. It finally felt like home.”

God, sometimes he just killed me. But when he did it, he did it in a way I liked.

“Shut up,” I whispered.

Mike stared at me, his eyes warm and gentle and that killed me too, in a way I liked.

Then he shut up, at least about that.

“I owe you for the party shit you bought. You need to give me the receipts.”

“Shut up,” I said louder and his hand curled firm on my ass again.

“Dusty. You need to give me the receipts.”

“Is this macho, I can talk until I’m blue in the face telling you it was my pleasure to give that to Rees so I want to pay for it and you still won’t agree Mike?”

He grinned, his hand relaxed and he answered, “Exactly.”

“Whatever,” I muttered. “I’ll give you the receipts.”

“Thanks, honey,” he muttered back then continued. “By the way, you didn’t bring a bag but you’re spendin’ the night.”

I so was.

Still, I felt compelled to point out, “Seriously, you’re bossy.”

He didn’t reply, just kept grinning.

“Were you this bossy with Debbie?” I asked.

“Sweetheart, you know no one can be bossy with Debbie because she’s so f**kin’ bossy. It was unrelenting. I could try to boss, I just couldn’t wedge one in.”

“So I have hope,” I muttered. “I just have to do it unrelenting.”

“Just a reminder, Dusty, Debbie lasted a while because I was a teenager with a small pond to choose from and she gave it to me regularly. When my field opened, Debbie was gone.”

I burst out laughing, shoving my face in his neck and feeling his hold tighten on me.

I loved this. I loved the comfort of it. That we could talk about stuff openly. That stuff that could feel weird or come between others didn’t between us. We got it. It was history.

This was now.

This was us.

We could talk about anything.

I lifted my head and looked at him to see him smiling at me.

Yes, this was us.

“The boys are clearing snow,” I announced.

Mike blinked.

“Pardon?”

“Darrin had contracts –”

I knew he knew exactly what I was talking about when he cut me off.

“You’re shittin’ me. They’re doin’ that?”

I nodded. “Both Fin and Kirby.”

Mike’s focus went out and I knew he was harking back, counting snowfalls when he muttered, “Three times.”

“Yep,” I confirmed and his focus came back on me.

“Rhonda allowed it?”

I nodded.

He murmured, “Fuck.”

“So, as a Dad, you think that’s wrong?”

“Uh…yeah. Kirby doesn’t even have his driver’s license. I knew Fin helped Darrin out and knowing Darrin, he wouldn’t have allowed that unless it was covered in the contracts or Fin was protected by Darrin’s insurance. So I don’t know what the contracts say but I doubt whatever insurance is provided includes the work being done by a non-licensed minor like Kirby. If he got hurt…” Mike trailed off.

“I didn’t like it either,” I agreed. “But I didn’t say anything when Rhonda told me because she’s their Mom and I didn’t know how she and Darrin played stuff like that with the boys.”

“If I’m right, he covers three developments. If Kirb could be on a tractor with a blade, Darrin would have had Kirb’s ass on a tractor with a blade. Did Fin recruit him?”

I nodded.

“Takin’ care of his family,” Mike muttered correctly.

“Yep,” I repeated.

“Fuck,” Mike repeated.

“Yep,” I repeated again. Then I took in a deep breath and shared, “Rhonda’s checked out.”

Mike’s arms got tight and his eyes looked deep into mine when he whispered, “I’m gettin’ that.”

I pressed deeper into him and whispered back, “Totally, Mike.”

He held my eyes then replied, “She’s gotta snap out of it, Dusty.”

“You know Rhonda,” I reminded him.

“I do. But shit happens and you gotta step up. We got the Debbie situation under control but both you and I know she’s in DC plotting. She’ll make her next move and she’ll do it soon.”

He was not wrong about that.

I did a face plant in his neck.

Mike’s hands gave me a squeeze. “Angel, look at me.”

I lifted my head.

“It’s time to talk to your Dad,” he said softly and my heart squeezed.

“He’s worked hard all his life, Mike. So has Mom. They love it down in Florida. He fishes. Mom spends hours in the kitchen making food out of gourmet food magazines she never had the time to make when she was a farmer’s wife. Dad spends time pretending he likes to eat it when really he just wants a fried tenderloin sandwich. They’re enjoying the good life.”

“Explain again why Darrin left the farm to all four of you,” Mike demanded to know something I’d told him the night we reconciled. Something he muttered then that he thought was “jacked” and something he clearly thought was still jacked now. Then again, Darrin loved Debbie. Mike didn’t.

“Because he loved his sisters,” I told him. “He knew Debbie but he always saw the good in people, even Debbie. And he knew Rhonda. So, if anyone would have Finley and Kirby’s backs with the farm, keeping it whole and safe for them to take over, he knew he couldn’t trust Rhonda to do it. But he could trust Debbie and me. Or he thought he could. He was wrong.”

“Your Dad would lose his mind if he thought Debbie was pushing to sell the farm to developers,” Mike noted, again correctly.

“Yes,” I agreed unnecessarily.

“So you need his firepower at your back.”

I sighed.