“I have four kids. My house is chaos. I haven’t slept past six in more years than I want to count.” Kevin flipped the line back and cast again. Satisfaction welled as the fly set down like the real thing. Still, the trout were MIA this morning. “You’ll see. When’s Jenna due? September, right?”

“Yeah. Honeymoon’s over, I guess.” Tony grimaced. “Is it really going to be that bad?”

Kevin laughed and smiled as Hunter sent another fly out over the water. “Kids are great. They just think sleeping is a waste of time.”

“Fish get up early, right, Dad?” Hunter added.

“Right.” Kevin played the fly across the river’s surface. “And if you hadn’t tried to keep up with Paul tossing back the Heineys last night, that gong wouldn’t be ringing in your head right now. You’d be enjoying the morning with me and Hunter.”

Tony bowed his head in mock shame. “I let Paul lead me astray. It’s his fault.”

“You’re too old to keep up with our baby brother.” Kevin laughed. Just twenty-one, Paul was still in spring-break-no-real-job mode. “Is college boy still sleeping?”

“Like a dead man.” Tony drained his cup.

“More like a single man.”

“No sh—kidding.” Tony corrected himself with a glance at Hunter. “I’m getting out of the cold. I’ll start breakfast and brew a fresh pot.”

“Cool. I’m starving,” Hunter said.

Tony grinned. “OK, kid. Coming right up. How does bacon and eggs sound?”

“Awesome.” Hunter popped his fly across the water like a champ. He stopped suddenly and gave his uncle a pointed stare. “Do I have to eat fruit?”

“Nope,” Uncle Tony answered. “This is Man Week, a vacation from balanced meals, personal hygiene, and all things pink.”

“Woo hoo.” Hunter pumped a fist in the air and grinned.

Kevin winced. His boy was going to smell like a sewer by the end of the week. But he’d be happy. With three younger sisters, Hunter often complained their house looked like the inside of the Pepto-Bismol bottle. They lived in Barbieland. “Since my superior angling skills have failed to land a trout, bacon and eggs sound great to me, too.”

“I’m on it.” Laughing, Tony headed back toward the cabin.

The breeze picked up and rustled through nearby trees. Kevin zipped his nylon jacket to his chin. His stomach rumbled. Coffee and bacon would hit the spot. Maybe when the wind died down, they’d land a few fish. They still had five more days of Man Week, but Kevin wanted his son to land a trout. This week was special to the Dougherty men. “Come on, Hunter. Let’s get some food.”

“Can we try again later?”