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“Yeah?”

“Daddy said you grew up next door?”

Shiloh was peering at me from behind Payton, looking curious and a bit awestruck still. Apparently he was a fan, but didn’t really see me as a real person the same way Payton had pretty much from the start.

“Yeah. Uh, there’s a tiny bit of land and a house and an old barn there.”

“Are you gonna live there?” Payton asked in the sincere tone of an innocent child.

I couldn’t help the grimace. “No. I didn’t have the greatest time as a kid there, so I don’t think so.”

A small tremor went through Shiloh and he pressed himself against Bodhi’s leg. Poor kid.

Payton frowned. “Huh. Then why have a house there?”

I chuckled. “That’s a good question. Maybe I should get the old house bulldozed and build a new one?”

Shiloh’s eyes shined with a flare of excitement. “Oh, bulldozers are cool.” Then, as if someone had flicked the light switch, he realized he’d said it out loud and cowered almost like Nelson had in that trailer the day we brought him home. Except Shiloh wouldn’t bite or kick when someone tried to help him.

“They really are,” Bodhi said. “Did you hear about all the machines I had at Yellow Ribbon to help out with the construction?”

I smiled. Gods, I had no chance of ever getting over that man, did I?

“Do you wanna come and meet him properly?” Hawk called out to me, and I slipped through the gate and went to chat with Nelson about if he liked his name or not.

I ended up on Ville and Emery’s couch like I’d said I would. Hell, I fell asleep leaning against Ville’s shoulder as we watched a movie, and then felt myself being lowered into the bedding that had appeared from somewhere.

I woke up disoriented as hell some thirteen hours later. The cabin was empty. Everyone was at work. I’d missed breakfast by a mile and after I showered and got myself dressed, I was hungry as hell but surprisingly refreshed.

This hadn’t been a depression nap, but actual proper rest, and I didn’t take it for granted.

My phone was plugged into a charger in the kitchenette, and I checked it just to see… a whole lot of nothing. That was a relief.

I stuck the phone into my pocket and stepped out, bundled up in an old flannel and my favorite pair of boots that weren’t just for show. The wind was pretty brutal for almost midday, but then winter was going to come eventually, and the end of September was sometimes unpredictable here.

A big black dog appeared from behind Russ’ cabin. It regarded me in a calm, curious way, so I stopped and let it come to me without reaching my hand toward it. It would’ve smelled me all the way behind the cabin anyway.

“Hi. Who are you?” I asked, as if it could answer.

It was a Rottweiler, but I knew they all were except for the lead dog. This one was a girl. Then I realized there was a tag on her collar. Not a hanging one, but one of those flat ones. There were letters there and—“Is your name Nyx?” I asked, and she softened somehow. Then she wagged her tail a little. “Hello, Nyx. It’s nice to meet you,” I said, offering my hand to her now that we were friends. “I’m Wren.” She pushed her massive head into my hand and made a happy noise as I started to scratch her behind her floppy ears.

The five or so minutes I took just loving on a friendly dog were almost as refreshing as the sleep. But then my stomach growled and I needed to get going. She followed me all the way to the front yard, and I appreciated the company. Patting Nyx, I told her she was a good girl, and she went off to continue her rounds or whatever it was she did here.

I jogged up the stairs and didn’t bother knocking even though it was my first instinct. Jenn was in the kitchen, prepping lunch, it seemed.

“Good morning, Wren,” she said, smiling at me as I toed my shoes off by the door.

“Morning, Mama H,” I teased and went to give her a hug and a kiss.

“Sit down and I’ll find you some breakfast.”

I knew better than to object, so instead I went to the coffee machine to get that part of my morning routine started.

It felt good to be here. It felt like such a… nest. Like how a real, warm, lived in home should feel like.

There were pictures on the double fridge doors that seemed made by the grandkids. There were several schedules nearby on the wall, neatly tacked there for ease of use for everyone. A few green vines—something starting with a P, but I couldn’t remember what they were called—were traveling along the walls high up from different pots in out of reach places. Many curious little hands came through this kitchen on a daily basis so I understood the need for the placement.

I turned around just in time to see Jenn slide an egg—over medium, something nobody other than Ville had remembered before—on a plate with a few pieces of bacon. Even my own mother had never remembered and I’d been subjected to sunny side up until I left home when I hated that. Not that she’d cooked often at all, but still.