Page 16 of Hope After Loss

Erin jumps up and throws her arms around Maxi’s neck. “Yes. Thank you. I’ll go get you some pie and ice cream.”

Erin runs off to the kitchen, and Maxi looks at me.

“Careful. She’ll be asking you to borrow Kaela next.”

My eyes go round. “She wouldn’t,” I say.

They all laugh.

Weston

Iwake up to the sunshine pouring into the room. The A-frame structure of the Man Caves features floor-to-ceiling windows with no coverings. Great for a man on a four-day fishing trip, eager to get on the water while the trout are biting. Horrible for a man trying to sleep in on a Sunday morning.

I roll over and look at the clock. Seven.

Shit.

I’m supposed to meet Graham out at the house in thirty minutes.

I jump up, grab yesterday’s jeans off the floor, and pull them over my hips. I fish a fresh henley and socks from the small closet beside the bathroom.

I grab a bottle of water and my keys before I walk outside into the fresh air, stepping into my boots before descending the steps that lead down to the boat launch.

The snow held itself to flurries yesterday. This is a blessing, seeing as Corbin and the rest of the guys plan to finish up the work at Anna’s house today.

The weather in Balsam Ridge can be unpredictable this time of year. We’ve been known to be covered in two feet of snow from January to mid-March. So, we’ve been lucky that this has been a mild winter, which has allowed the construction on both my and Garrett’s house to continue smoothly, but it’s not over yet. The forecast for next week predicts snow and ice.

I stop by the local gas station on the way to my house and grab a couple of Miss Hattie’s sausage and egg sandwiches and two of her to-go cups of strong coffee.

Graham’s truck is in the driveway in front of the detached garage when I pull in. I park beside it, grab the paper bag and cups, and head inside. The wind has kicked up, and the temperature on top of the mountain is about fifteen degrees colder than it is in the valley. I hurry inside to find Graham inspecting the installation of the cabinets and kitchen island.

“It looks good,” I say.

“They did a good job. Now that everything is in, I can have the crew come through and finish up the trim, do some touch-up painting, and add all the new hardware. The furniture will be delivered next week, if the weather permits, and you can be in before Super Bowl Sunday.”

“Awesome. I’m so ready to have my own space again.”

“Ready to see the best part?” he asks.

“Lead the way.”

He tugs open the sliding glass doors, and we walk out onto a large covered deck that overlooks the most spectacular view. In the left corner is a seven-person, ninety-jet, wood-fired cedar hot tub with custom-built steps and handrailing and a push-button convertible top. The right corner features an outdoor kitchen with a charcoal grill, gas griddle, smoker, and stone pizza oven.

“It’s a mountain man’s dream. My ass is gonna live out here,” I say as I take in my new favorite place.

“Glad you like it. That damn hot tub was a bear to get up here. It took a tractor, a crane, and six men,” he informs me.

“It’s too bad you’re getting married. You could be reaping the rewards for your hard work, helping me entertain the ladies in that bad boy.”

He chuckles. “I’m sure Morris will be happy to help you with all the ladies.”

I shrug. “He’s the worst wingman. He turns those puppy-dog eyes on them, and they all melt. And his ass doesn’t know how to handle the attention,” I gripe.

“Sounds to me like he needs his big brother’s guidance.”

“I guess so. I did such a good job with the rest of you,” I quip.

“Yes. Thank you for all the training in the art of relationships. We’re all so lucky,” he deadpans.