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“Pretty sure you ignoring me all week was rude, Goldie, not that,” I bantered as she slowed beside me. That was not how I had wanted the conversation about us not really speaking to go, but here we were.

“You’ve been ignoring me, too, I’ll have you know,” she quipped back.

“Hmmmm, that doesn’t sound like me.” She raised her brows and brushed some dirt off her pants. “Weston’s keeping you busy?” I added.

“Is he always this overbearing?” she asked as we neared the eighteen-wheeler.

“He’s just nervous about Tenley,” I answered as the cab rattled and the door opened. My stomach flipped. A man I hadn’t seen or really spoken to in over twelve years was climbing out of the truck, and I wasn’t quite sure what to expect.

Slowing my pace, Briar walked ahead of me as Rooney rounded the front of his truck. It was as if I’d stepped back in time. He looked no different than I remembered with only maybe a few more wrinkles around his leathery, weathered skin. Tall and thin, his overalls worn and faded with that signature checkered shirt beneath, a grin spread across his face. His beady eyes crinkled as Briar picked up her pace and crashed into his outstretched arms.

My feet stopped moving, locking into place. He was never one to give any sort of physical expression showing that he cared, but here he was wrapping that beautiful blonde up in his arms. Raising his right hand with the missing fingers, he adjusted the greasy ball cap covering his gray hair as Briar slowly stepped back.

“I’m so glad you made it safely,” she said, and he patted her arm.

“I loaded them during the night when Wayde was as drunk as could be. Some of them are in pretty rough shape, but at least six or so should still give you some answers,” he replied, and his bushy, coarse brows rose, drifting over Briar’s shoulders.

Amber eyes that roared like a fire locked onto mine.

His face went completely still, all emotion erased from him, and he did not move.

Then a smile spread upon his face. “Cassidy Duke,” Rooney muttered, running a hand over his clean-shaven chin.

“Rooney McCallister,” I answered. I was a grown man, thirty-two years old, and seeing the person who stepped up as a father to me when I was away from home definitely made me feel anything but.

Swallowing stiffly, I shook my head and then marched right over to him. His smile widened, and he tugged me into him, clapping me on my back. Smelling just as he had last time I saw him—cheap beer and cigarette smoke; I didn’t realize how much I missed that until this moment.

Choking down the tears, I buried my face into his shoulder. “My boy,” he whispered quietly. So quiet, I barely heard him.

And I felt like an immediate disappointment. “I’m sorry,” I muttered. “I’m sorry.”

He patted me firmly and shook his head as I tightened my hold on the man. “For what? Seems to me you’ve turned into a wonderful man.”

“I–I–I—” But I couldn’t get out what I really wanted to say. By now, I should’ve done exactly what I knew he wanted for me, but there was more than one debt I owed, more than one favor to repay than just to him.

“Just because you’re taking the scenic route, don’t mean you won’t get there eventually,” he answered, somehow knowing exactly what I was trying to say. Clearing my throat, I pulled away, and he let go of me, clamping a hand on my shoulder. His eyes met mine once more, and he nodded, just a single time.

“I promise,” I said. “And I still owe you.”

“Nah, your debt with me is repaid. You know that.” He shook his head, staying close to me, keeping this private conversation between just us two.

“Not like this. I have other reasons I’m doing this,” I answered. Rooney lifted a brow and tipped his head.

He studied me for a moment, like he used to always do, and then grinned.

“Alrighty, if you insist.” He winked.

“Rooney,” I chided, though he wasn’t wrong that I was doing this simply because I cared for her. But he merely chuckled as the door to the main house swung open. Rooney let go of my shoulder and turned around along with Briar as my parents walked out onto the porch, followed by none other than Tenley’s mom.

A plump lady who had helped calm my own mother’s meddling down over the past couple of years. She always smelled like freshly baked bread and looked so similar to Tenley, just more mature. Soft, rosy cheeks deepened as she neared Rooney.

He removed his ball cap and ran a hand through his hair, which was so gray, it was nearly white. She smoothed out a few curls in her short, thin, brown hair and blushed even more.

I shared a quick glance with Briar. She pulled her lips between her teeth and widened her eyes, noticing the same brief interaction that I had. As the three new folks came to stand by us, I pointed at my father first, who looked more like Weston with the mustache and everything, while my mom looked much more like me.

“Rooney, meet my parents, Jeb and Nancy Duke,” I introduced, and he reached forward, shaking each of their hands. “And that beautiful woman,” I paused and pointed at Tenley’s mom, “is my sister-in-law’s mother, Rosemary.”

No one moved or spoke as Rooney and Rosemary stared at each other. Her smile turned a little bashful, and Briar sidled up next to me as Rooney finally tipped his head. “Hello there,” he drawled. “Cassidy, always the smooth talker,” he added and winked.