“Yesterday I cried over football,” he said. “It was pathetic all day. I’m just so damn glad to see you, Ange. Your uncle Jack was a mess while you were in the hospital, he was so worried.”

“And as you can see, all is well,” she said.

“Mel says you want a takeout. I’ll make you anything you want—you just tell me what.”

“I’ll have whatever’s on the menu and a bottle of wine. Do you have any sauvignon blanc?”

“Are you sure you’re allowed alcohol?” Jack asked.

“Yes,” she said with a laugh, holding up her glass. “Hence the beer I’m drinking. I promise not to get wasted. But, gee, some of Preacher’s dinner, a glass of wine, a fire, a book, peace and quiet… Oh, Jack, there are logs out there, right?”

“You’re all set,” he said. “Do you know how to light the fire?”

She rolled her eyes. “Preacher, do you suppose I could do a little graze through your kitchen? Grab some staples—a few eggs, some milk, bread, that sort of thing? In case I wake up starving?”

“Absolutely,” he said.

Although it was soft and low, Angie heard someone clear his throat. There, at the end of the bar in the corner was a lone man in an army-green, down-padded jacket. He had dark hair, an empty beer glass and some money in his hand.

Jack turned to him, took his money and said, “Thanks, bud. See you around.”

“Have a nice reunion,” the man said, moving to leave.

He was so tall—that was what Angie noticed first. As tall as her uncle Jack. And his dark hair had some red in it. Dark auburn. She’d never seen that combination before, unless it was on a woman and had come out of a bottle. Usually red shades were found in blond or light brown hair. The stubble on his cheeks had a tinge of red, too.

As he walked toward the door, their eyes met and Angie felt her cheeks grow warm—he’d caught her staring. He had the greenest eyes she’d ever seen. They had to be contacts. He gave her a half smile and then he turned and was gone.

“Wow,” she said. “Whew. Who’s the hottie?”

Brie laughed and said, “I think our girl is fully recovered.”

Jack let go a little growl. “He’s not the one for you,” he said.

Angie looked around at all the smiling faces—Brie, Paige, Preacher.... “Gee, did I ask if he was right for me?”

Preacher chortled loudly, another thing the big cook seldom did. “Patrick Riordan,” he told her. “He’s here sitting out a little leave. He’s Navy. I think he got hurt or something.”

“Nah, he didn’t get hurt,” Jack clarified. “Luke said there was an accident during his last deployment and he decided to take a little leave or something. Riordans, good people, but that one’s got troubles right now. You might want to give him a wide berth. I don’t know all the details, but it sounds like combat issues....”

“Yeah, we wouldn’t want to get mixed up with anyone with combat issues,” Preacher joked. And Jack glared at him. Preacher put a big hand on Angie’s shoulder and said, “He’s been kind of quiet and grumpy while he’s been in town. If you got to know him a little, you know what? I bet he wouldn’t cheer you up that much.”

That made Angie laugh. “Well, how about that—we both had accidents. Now, what’s for dinner, Preach?”

“Big surprise, turkey soup. It’ll keep you very healthy. I boiled two carcasses all day. Homemade noodles—the best. Even though it’s not raining, I baked bread.”

Her mouth began to water. “I’m in.”

Mel came from the kitchen. “I called Donna,” she said. “Your mom would like you to email her when you’re settled tonight and she promises to give you a little space to find yourself. She suggests you look at your med school transcripts.”

Angie rolled her eyes. “Dropping out of school was far harder on Professor LaCroix than it was on me,” Angie said. “I’ve never felt so free in my life.”

After a little more small talk, and her beer finished, soup, bread and wine packed up along with some groceries from the kitchen, sun lowering in the sky, Angie was ready to head for the cabin. They stood around outside for a minute and Jack kissed her forehead. “Do whatever you want tomorrow, pumpkin, but remember if you decide to stay in your pajamas all day you’ll miss the raising of the Christmas tree.”

“You’re putting it up tomorrow?”

He gave a nod. “It’s a tradition. A bunch of us went out and chopped it down this morning. It’s loaded on one of Paul’s biggest trucks. He’ll meet us in town with the rest of his equipment tomorrow and we’ll stand her up.”

Mel gave her arm a pat. “It’s not as much fun now that construction professionals are involved,” she said. “It hardly ever falls and crushes whole buildings.”

Brie hugged Angie hard. “I’m so glad you’re here for a long visit.”

Almost teary, all Angie could do was nod. Of all her aunts, she was closest to Brie. Brie had been only twelve when she was born. “Me, too,” she said. “I’ll be here for the tree-raising.” Then she looked around at the little town, the lights shining from inside unfussy little houses, smoke curling from chimneys, folks pulling up to the bar and giving a wave to Jack, Mel and Brie as they went inside. The sky was darkening fast, gray clouds gathering and looking heavy with their burden. “Snow tonight?” she asked.

“Very likely,” Brie said. “It’s way overdue. Call if you need anything.”

* * *

When Patrick got back to the cabin he was staying in—his brother Aiden’s place on the ridge—one of his other brothers, Colin, was sitting on a chair on the deck.

“What are you doing here?”

Colin lifted a bag. “I brought you some Thanksgiving leftovers.”

Patrick sighed. “I was offered those yesterday at your house and I said no thank you.”

“Jilly figured that by now you might have changed your mind.”

“Why didn’t you just leave them in the kitchen?” he asked. “The door isn’t locked.”

Colin just shook his head. “Look, kid, I don’t pretend to understand everything that’s going on with you, but I’m not going to invade your territory. I’ll go inside when I’m invited inside.”

Patrick walked around him and opened the door. He stood back and held it open. “Please,” he said. When Colin stepped inside, Patrick said, “It’s not complicated—I’m rethinking the Navy. But after four years in the Academy and quite a few in the cockpit, it’s not an easy decision.”

“Especially coming right after Leigh stepped out of your life and Jake dies…” Colin added.

“I think they’re called life-altering events,” Patrick said. “It’s actually more complicated, though. I’m due orders. I’m going to get a squadron, and I’m not sure I want to take it. I’ve been given a little time to think about it, and not necessarily because of Jake.” But that was a lie—it was because of Jake. The Navy shrink had ordered his leave.

“You’re grieving.”

“I’m thinking,” Patrick returned emphatically. And then he looked away, remembering with some longing a time when he had been the least screwed up of the Riordan brothers. He had once been the least complicated, too.

“It might help to talk about it,” Colin suggested.

That idea had been suggested before—many times. If his brothers knew how much time he’d already spent with the shrink, they’d either give up on him or get a lot more invasive.

“Colin, not that long ago, we all tried to get you to open up about your issues and it pissed you off because you were feeling very private....”

“I was feeling very secretive,” Colin corrected. “Because after I had augured in in the Black Hawk I was chewing Oxy like M&M’s and couldn’t risk letting anyone in my space.”

“Even before that,” Patrick said. “You were the brother who rarely put in an appearance at family things and, when you did you didn’t last long, so cut me some slack here. I need to be that brother for a while.” In fact, the reason Patrick had chosen to come to Virgin River was because both Luke and Colin lived here, and Sean and Aiden were not so far away. He did want to see his brothers, just not too much of them. And because Patrick had been scheduled to be out to sea and not in Virgin River, the entire Riordan clan was planning a Christmas holiday reunion in warm and sunny San Diego. They had rented two large condos on the beach and his mother, Maureen, with her significant other, George, would go there in their RV. But Patrick would not be going to San Diego. By Christmas, he’d be heading back to Charleston to either accept the new assignment or pack up his gear and out-process. In the meantime, this little cabin of Aiden’s—way up on top of the mountain—was sweet. And remote. And just what he wanted.

Colin put his hand on Patrick’s shoulder. “Even before the Oxy, I had turned ass**le into an art form. I realize that now. It took having my life gutted to turn me into the sweetheart I am today.” Then he grinned. But he didn’t remove his hand. “But you’ve always been the best one in the family. The most stable, sensitive, settled. It was always hard to picture you as a fighter jock. And now? It’s hard to watch you in pain.”

“I’m not in pain,” Patrick said. “I’m in deep thought. Right now taking on a squadron commits me to the career path. I need some time to think about that. I’ll talk about it after I’ve sorted a few things out. And I’m not completely antisocial—I made it to Thanksgiving dinner, right? I get to town for a beer almost every day.” He didn’t keep any alcohol at the cabin because the temptation to stay drunk for a few weeks was too strong. “I just need a little time, that’s all. There’s no reason for you to worry.”

Colin removed the hand. “Okay, then. So, since you’re not antisocial, hit town for a while tomorrow—they’re raising the tree.”

“The big tree?” he asked.

“Yep. Everyone gets into the act at some point. I’ll stop by because I’m sure they’ll need my advice. Luke will be in the thick of it. The general and Jack will compete for the boss position, but Paul Haggerty is the one in charge because he has all the heavy equipment needed to raise and anchor it. Getting it up and decorated is a two-day affair and the entire town shows up at one time or another. And then people start coming from all over this part of the state just to see it.”

“I’ll probably swing by in the next couple of days....”

“Good,” Colin said. He handed him the bag of leftovers. “Refrigerate. See you around.”

“Yeah, sure.”

After Colin left, Patrick made a phone call to Marie, Jake’s widow. He called her every day. “Hey, it’s me. How you doing today?”

“Holidays are kind of hard, but I knew they would be,” she said. “I was with my whole family yesterday and they’re a big crowd. My brother has a friend he says would like to take me to a movie, although I suspect my brother might have paid this guy.”

“Nah,” Patrick said. “Who wouldn’t want to take you out? Are you ready for that—to go out, I mean?”

“Not yet,” she said in a very quiet breath. “It hasn’t been very long....”

Just a couple of months, Patrick thought.

“And I was with Jake for a long time,” Marie added.

Six years. Patrick knew exactly how long it had been. They’d dated for two years and then four years ago Patrick was their best man. Two years ago Jake’s son, Daniel, was born and Patrick stood as godfather. He’d been on a mission with Jake when something went wrong over Afghanistan and Jake was shot down. They weren’t the only two on that mission, but Patrick was their lead and the only one who felt responsible. Maybe it was more accurate to say Patrick had survivor guilt—why couldn’t it have been him? Jake had a family who depended on him.