only knew he needed something different. Something more.
And Archer—the brother who’d fought battles of his own, who’d estranged himself from his family for so long—had known exactly what more Dean needed.
Gratitude wells up inside me, the red-gold colors of a sunrise. Shrieks of delight fill the air as the kids clamber around the tree house and cross the bridge to the deck. They spend the rest of the evening engaged in sword fights, sea battles, storm navigation, searches for buried treasure, and plots to steal gold and jewels.
“It’s incredible,” I tell Dean and Archer as we stand together watching the flurry of joy. “How long did it take you to build?”
They exchange glances.
“About thirty years,” Dean says.
Archer smiles.
“Uncle Archer, walk the plank!” Bella calls, waving at the rope bridge.
Archer goes to meet his fate. By the time we traipse back to the house, the other parents are starting to arrive to collect their grubby, well-fed, happy, tired children.
Dean and I don’t even bother trying to get Bella and Nicholas into the bathtub, letting them do a cursory brushing of their teeth and quick pajama change before they fall into bed.
Downstairs, Kelsey is in the living room, finishing off a piece of pizza and drinking a beer. I lower myself on a nearby chair.
“Did Archer leave?” I ask.
“No, he’s putting the lights away,” Kelsey says, glancing at Dean. “Whose idea was it?”
“His.” Dean pops the top off a beer and takes a long swallow. “He saved my ass.”
Kelsey and I exchange glances.
“What’re you talking about?” she asks.
“Do you remember the day of Liv’s surgery when you told me I needed a cavalry?”
“I remember.”
“He was it.” Dean tilts his head to the window to indicate his brother. “He gave me something to do. A focus that wasn’t on medieval literature or castle architecture.”
“With the tree house?” Kelsey asks.
“And other things.” Dean shrugs, looking down at the floor. “I mean, it’s been good just having him around. He’s met me for kickboxing, beers, a couple games of football. He’s always been great with the kids, but these past few months, he’s helped make them feel like everything would be okay. I didn’t even realize it until recently. It was like he handed me a map and helped me find my way out again, you know?”
Kelsey’s throat works with a swallow. She turns her gaze to the window to watch Archer coming out of the woods, carrying a box filled with lights. Patch lopes along at his side.
“Yeah,” she says softly. “I know.”
I look at Dean. He’s watching me, his gaze warm. My heart lifts like a bird taking flight. A tangible current of love and hope flows between us. The end of something grueling. The start of something good.
No. The continuation of something good.
“I’ll bet no one else could have done that,” I say. “It makes perfect sense that Archer, a man who spent so many years on the road trying to find his own way, knows exactly how to help others find their way too.”
“But not just anyone,” Kelsey says, still watching Archer. “People he loves. His family.”
The sliding glass door opens, and Archer’s voice booms inside. “Did anyone save me some pizza?”
“There’s some in here,” I call. “Come and get it.”
He comes in, pointing his chin to the window. “Dean, you gotta get that boundary fence put up, especially if the kids are going to be running around the woods now. I’ll pick up some posts tomorrow and get started.”
He grabs a piece of pepperoni pizza from the open box and flops down on the sofa next to Kelsey. She’s looking at him with an oddly intent gaze that makes him blink with puzzlement.
“Hey,” he says.
“Hey,” she replies softly.
Electricity sizzles. Kelsey pushes slowly to her feet.
“I’ll get you a beer from the fridge,” she says, heading into the kitchen.
Archer glances at Dean, his eyebrows lifting. “My girl is fetching me a cold beer.”
Dean grins. “Enjoy it, man, because it might not happen again.”
We hear Kelsey rustling around in the kitchen, opening drawers and closing cabinets. There’s a scratching noise at the sliding glass door, and she goes to let Patch in, murmuring to him and maybe even doing a little baby talk.
“Sounds like he won her over,” Dean remarks.
“Yeah, took me a lot longer to do the same thing,” Archer says.
Kelsey returns to the living room and hands Archer a beer. Patch follows at her heels, his tongue lolling out. He stops beside the sofa and puts his front paws on