His eyes flickered with something I was too smart to call regret.

“Look, Dad. I’m here because you asked me to be.”

“Bullshit,” he spat. “You’re the last person I’d ask for help.”

I shoved that little insult into the don’t-ever-think-about-it pile and gave him a mocking smile. “Well, you did. And maybe when you’re done being an asshole, I’ll give you the proof.”

“Get. Off. My. Land.”

“Okay,” I agreed and headed back to the Jeep, zipping up my coat as I went.

By the time I opened my tailgate, he’d slammed the front door. “Stubborn ass,” I muttered, grabbing my camping chair.

After setting up next to the Jeep, I settled into the chair with my water bottle and the copy of East of Eden I’d brought from the house. I cracked the well-loved spine and fell into Steinbeck’s description of living between two mountain ranges.

“I told you to get off my land!” Dad shouted from the porch, Dorothy looking on from the doorway.

“I am off your land,” I replied, already back in my book.

“I beg your pardon?”

“According to the property survey, this little stretch of land is part of the easement you sold to Uncle Cal so he could access his house.” My eyes traced the letters on the page before me, but nothing registered with every other sense concentrating on Dad.

“You… He… Go to hell.”

I expected the slam of the door, but it still made me flinch when it happened. An hour later, Dorothy appeared, a steaming cup in her hands.

“To keep you warm. Temps are going to drop soon.”

“Thank you,” I told her, taking the offered coffee.

“He’s…” She rubbed her fingers at the skin between her eyebrows.

“He’s him,” I offered. “Don’t worry. He fathered the only man more stubborn than he is.”

She blew out a long, exasperated breath. “Xander said he’s not paying for the at-home care. Says it’s cheaper and safer to take him down to the home in Buena Vista, where he can get around-the-clock care.”

Fuck me, did I have to fight Xander on every front?

“I’ll talk to him again,” I promised.

She nodded, her lips pressed in a flat line, and gave me a look so full of pity, I almost cringed. “I wish Art didn’t let his heart fill with all this misplaced hatred. I know you’ve never been perfect, Cam, but you don’t deserve this.”

I glanced toward the east end of the property, where Sullivan lay beneath a stone I’d never seen. “I earned it.”

The coffee was hot and bitter, rich with memories of rushed mornings and zipping backpacks.

“Thank you,” I told her, handing back the mug after I’d downed its contents.

“You’re welcome. He’ll come around.” She gave me a little nod, then headed back into the house.