“I know!” He slides his hand into mine, and I try not to think about how sticky it is. Chuckling under my breath, I jog behind him as he drags me behind a big well that sits beside the house. Cement peeks out between the layered stones, and the old wooden beams reach up tall above it. There’s a bucket hanging on a rope, but it has the distinct look of being out of use.

It’s charming, and symbolic, and it smells like wet flint, or the yard after a rainstorm.

“Helloooo!” Luke pops his little face down into the opening, cackling when his greeting echoes back up at him.

I sink to the ground, yanking him down with me. “Shush it, you little hellion. He’s going to hear us.”

“Oh, yeah. Right.” Luke chortles more. Such a happy, goofy kid, even if his attention span leaves something to be desired.

“Hey, Willa?”

“Hey, Luke,” I reply dryly, since the be quiet part obviously didn’t register.

“Sometimes I wish you were my mom.”

I blink at the boy, too stunned to speak, so he continues. “At that birthday party? Where I got held under the water? He told me that even my mom didn’t like me.”

I want to push that kid into the water all over again.

“Well, I don’t just like you, Luke.” My voice comes out thick with emotion, but I’m not so sure he picks up on it. “I love you.”

“You do?” His smile is shy—tentative.

“Yeah. And that kid is a major shithead.”

His hand slaps over his mouth and his eyes go wide before he whispers, “He’s a total shithead and I love you too.”

I instantly pull him close, feeling his tiny body press against mine right where we’re kneeling on the ground.

“Luke!” Cade’s voice is closer this time. “Willa! Why does it look like Valentine’s Day threw up all over the driveway?”

I clap a hand over my mouth to hold in the laughter. Of course, that’s how Cade would see it. Fucking pessimist.

“You two think you’re funny, don’t you?”

I move my free hand to cover Luke’s mouth because he has no chill and is going to burst.

Cade’s boots move off the paved part of the driveway, and I can hear them crunching against the packed gravel beside it, drawing closer.

“The worst part is . . . when I find you, I’m going to punish you both.”

Luke’s shoulders shake harder. He knows his dad is a big softy under that gruff exterior. I don’t think he’s punished Luke a day in his life.

Me though? I’m not so sure. Bedroom Cade is not Dad Cade. My body tingles in response—I don’t laugh at all.