“Of course.” Mitch glanced at his mother, who was sitting quietly in the back seat, hands folded in her lap, looking out the window as if they were on a scenic Sunday-afternoon drive. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

It was true. He’d had his doubts at first, too. But the idea had grown on him more with every day that passed. He’d be able to check on them during his lunch break whenever he wanted. He wouldn’t have to drive all the way out to the ranch to pick them up for appointments.

And he wouldn’t be alone.

Rand gripped the door handle. “Let’s go then.”

There were a few bags and boxes in the back of the truck, but they’d left most of his parents’ things behind. They’d have to figure that out later. For now, the Tucker family was renting the house for next to nothing in exchange for keeping up the place. That had been Marge’s idea, too.

He helped his mother out of the truck and walked arm in arm with her to the house. Mitch wasn’t sure how much she understood about what was happening, but she’d known him today when he picked them up and had been happy to see him. As long as she could see the mountains from her bedroom window when she woke up in the morning, he had a feeling she was going to be okay.

When they entered the house, he helped his mom to the couch and went back for her trunk. It was the big, clunky kind new brides used to put their wedding dresses and homemade quilts in. The trunk had originally been his great-grandmother’s. He carried it into the bedroom, pleased to see there were no puddles on the carpet now that he kept the door open. He was giving up his room on the main floor and moving to the guest room upstairs so his parents wouldn’t have to navigate the steps. He’d leave Bea’s room open so she and Jeremy could come stay whenever they wanted.

It had been bittersweet, cleaning his and Caroline’s stuff out of here. She was everywhere in this room, and it made his heart ache to think of sleeping somewhere else. But life kept moving forward, and he knew she would tell him it was time to let go. Not of her or the memories or the years of life they’d shared, but of his claim on the pain her leaving had caused. He’d held on to it like a prized possession for two years, afraid if he let it go he might not feel anything at all, but there was a lot of life to live outside of his pain. A lot of other people to love.

Rand appeared in the doorway holding a cardboard box. “Where should I put this?”