told him to find the dog a new home. Naturally, he thought of Haven House, which had been taking in all sorts of strays—even human ones—for as long as he’d been alive.
Hildy fell in love with the dog the second Cole put him in her arms. “What’s his name?” she’d asked.
“Name him whatever you want,” Cole said.
“How about Rocky?” Hildy smiled.
“No, do not name him Rocky,” Cole said. “Just call him something simple. Like Bob or Mark or something.” He gave the dog’s ears a rub, then turned and walked away.
Cole was surprised, weeks later, when he returned to Haven House, to discover that the puppy now wore an engraved nametag that read Bob.
The farmhouse had been well cared for—you’d never know it was over a hundred years old by looking at it. With a traditional white exterior, the place had three giant outbuildings, a fenced-in field for horses and, on the opposite side of the house, a big garden where the kids who lived here learned to grow their own food.
Cole spent a lot of time in that garden. It was the main thing he oversaw when he volunteered.
Steve and Hildy were all about life skills. He supposed that’s what gave him the idea to offer Asher a job that summer. He’d done similar house projects out here over the years, and it always felt good to be the one to fix something that went wrong in his own house.
He parked next to the house, turned off the engine, and stuck the keys in the ashtray.
“You don’t talk much, huh?” She faced him.
He resisted the urge to tell her she’d talked enough for both of them, afraid his tone wouldn’t read “playful,” but rather “annoyed.” And he wasn’t annoyed with her at all—that said something because for the most part, people irked him.
But that was more his problem than theirs and he knew it.
Instead of responding, he simply shrugged, aware that he’d barely said two words the whole drive out here.
“I’ll try not to take it personally.” She opened the door and got out of the truck. “But only because you’re related to Jules.” She shut the door.
He got out and walked around to the front of the truck, watching her admire the house. “What’s Jules got to do with it?”
“If you and Jules have the same blood, then there must be good in you somewhere,” she said without looking at him. “Even if you’re hiding it from everyone.”
She muttered that last part under her breath. He wasn’t sure whether to be insulted or amused, but he didn’t get a chance to decide before the front door of the old house opened and a little girl appeared on the opposite side of the screen door.
Typically, Haven House was for older kids, but every once in a while, they took in younger children. Like his nieces and nephew. He would bet money Hildy took them home that evening, surveyed Connor’s state, and decided to hold on to the kids for a few more days. If he had the room—and any idea how to take care of a baby—he’d take them himself. And maybe he should. They were his family, after all.
Hildy came into view behind the little girl. “Jewel,” she said, “we can’t open the door to strangers without a grown-up.”
The little girl wore a pink sundress, pigtails, and a wide expression. Her eyes darted from Cole to Charlotte and then up to the older woman. “Are they here to adopt me?”
The older woman whispered something in the girl’s ear and shooed her away, then she turned her attention to her visitors.
“Well, you’re not a stranger at all.” She opened the screen door and stepped out onto the porch. “I forgot you were coming today. I would’ve made your favorite cookies.” Hildy squeezed his arm.
Charlotte watched in what he was sure was curiosity, and Cole realized everything he’d wanted to keep hidden about himself was about to come out.
Or at least more of it than he was willing to discuss. Because he was willing to discuss exactly none of it.
“I can leave and come back in an hour,” Cole said. “Give you time to whip some up.”
She laughed. “If you’re lucky I have all the ingredients in the kitchen.”
Hildy’s dark hair had streaks of gray in it, and she’d stuck a pair of glasses up on top of her head. He’d bet money she had no idea they were there. She still had her signature apron over a pair of