“Language!” Lilly shouts from upstairs, and Easton laughs, delighted by her bossy reprimand.

“Do you need any help?” he asks me, looking the table over. It’s set beautifully, if I say so myself.

“Go play with Carter,” I say. “He’s missed his buddy all these years.”

Easton drags his bottom lip through his teeth and gives me one final head-to-toe once-over that leaves my skin tingling. “As you wish.” He winks then heads to the basement.

Teagan grabs a plate off the table and fans herself. “Holy sexual tension, Shayleigh. You two are gonna fog up the windows in here if you keep looking at each other like that.”

I pull out a chair and sit because I’m suddenly lightheaded.

Teagan chuckles. “You okay?”

“I’m . . .” I put my fingers to my lips. I’m so many things.

“Lemme guess, starts with an H and rhymes with corny.”

I grab a napkin from the place setting in front of me and toss it at her. It floats ineffectually to the floor at her feet.

Laughing, she picks it up, refolds it, and returns it to the plate in front of me, but her face is serious when she says, “It’s okay to give him another chance. He lives here. He has custody of his daughter. Everything’s different now.”

Yeah, it really is. This time I might be the one who ends up in L.A. while he’s here.

Dinner was the usual chaotic and boisterous affair of a dozen conversations happening at any given time and enough food to feed a small army.

I take kitchen duty after the meal ends, partly because I’m one of the few people here who isn’t responsible for a child of some sort, and partly because I could use the time to get my thoughts in order. The day turned out nice, and everyone’s outside enjoying the mild temp and sunshine by the water. I find myself lingering—towel-drying and putting away dishes rather than leaving them in the rack, wiping down the counters a second time, even going as far as to organize the little we keep in the pantry.

I don’t understand why until I look out the window and see the girls chasing Noah barefoot in the sand and all my brothers standing around a fire talking. This might be my last Easter living in Jackson Harbor.

The thought strikes me and cuts through the little energy I have like a sharp knife. I pull out a kitchen chair and sink into it.

“Why so sad, Short Stack?”

I turn away from the window to find Easton sitting down opposite me. “I’m not sad.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

I shake my head. Not sad. I’m a little disappointed that the truth didn’t hit me sooner, and maybe even a little embarrassed, but not sad. “I’m just thinking.”

“Tell me.”