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“Can we at least talk a bit more before the two of you run off?”

Arlo sighed but stopped pulling him towards the stairs.

“We picked up some Nanaimo bars from Dutch Bakery. Holly, do you want to help me with them?”

Holly slipped her headphones back around her neck and followed her mom into the kitchen. Arlo’s mam had barely made it to the fridge before she gave a little jump.

“Oh, how about some tea?”

Bren’s heart lifted at the question.

“Cheers.”

Arlo’s mam changed course and bustled over to the stove. No electric kettle? The dog—Rudy, he remembered Arlo telling him—stomped his front paws on the tile and smiled up at Bren. He’d stopped petting him without realizing it.

“It’s really good to meet you, Bren,” Arlo’s da said, folding up his red and white cane. “Sorry about the ambush.”

“Good to meet you, too.”

Before he knew what was happening he’d stuck his arm out in front of him. A horrible silence filled the room as Bren realized what he’d done.

“Fuck.” He remembered the seven-year-old in the kitchen and checked to make sure she hadn’t heard.

“You tried to shake my hand, didn’t you?”

Bren tried to remember what the fee for changing his return flight was as his stomach shriveled down to the size of a raisin. Arlo’s face was red from suppressed laughter, which wasn’t making things any better.

Arlo’s da let out a short, booming laugh. “Happens all the time.” He paused and looked thoughtful. “You know, maybe it happens even more than I think. I wouldn’t know.”

His lip twitched and a second later the joke landed. A.J. groaned but Bren had to work hard not to choke. He didn’t have to fight the impulse long because Holly shuffled back into the kitchen with a mountain of Nanaimo bars piled high on a china plate.

“Thanks, kiddo,” Arlo said with an easy smile.

Holly returned the affection, but it slid off her face when her eyes met Bren’s and she hurried back to the kitchen. Bren wasn’t sure how to take it. It wasn’t like he was the best with kids or anything, but he’d never offended one by existing before. Maybe she just hated gingers?

“Don’t take it personally,” Arlo’s da whispered.

It seemed like that was all he had to say, and when Bren looked to Arlo, he gave him a wistful smile.

“She takes a while to warm up to anyone.”

“Well, I’m here all year, so hopefully that’ll be long enough, like.”

Something Bren couldn’t read flickered across Arlo’s face, but it was gone the next second.

“A whole year!” Arlo’s mam said, walking in with a tray containing five mugs. “That’s so exciting. Are you ready for your first Canadian winter?”

Bren had to work hard not to look disappointed when he peered down into pale yellow instead of the deep amber he’d been expecting. She hadn’t set out any milk either.

“Got it covered,” he said, and gave what he hoped was a smile when he took a sip. It was some kind of herbal drink, with what he could only assume was honey stirred in. “Picked up a new winter jacket before I left Ireland and everything.”

Arlo gave him an apologetic look when he took his own sip of “tea”, but was grinning by the time he set the mug down.

“OK, but how many layers does it have?” he asked.

Bren swapped his mug for a Nanaimo bar and took a bite.

“I dunno, like, the normal amount?”