Spike climbed out of the back. Swiped off his fur hat and ran an arm across his forehead. His brown hair was long and matted to match his beard. “That was some flying.” Then he grinned.

Oh, yes, the man needed to come out of the bush, preferably for a hot bath and a trip to the dentist. The smell now wafted over to Dodge. But he met Spike’s hand. “Let’s get your gear unloaded.”

Spike hung his gun over his shoulder and reached for a box. “I heard you were over in Afghanistan.”

Despite the wide spaces of the north, the community felt as big as a one-stoplight town. “Yep,” Dodge said as he unpacked the wooden boxes of supplies—flour, sugar, oil, medicines. “I was a pilot with the 438th out of Bagram.”

“F-15 fighter?” Spike carried one of the boxes up the hill, his feet digging into the packed snow.

Dodge followed him. “No. I flew a Pave Hawk.”

Spike shot him a glance. “You flew spec ops.”

“And combat search and rescue.” Dodge readjusted his grip on the heavy box. “What did you order, bricks?”

“Homeschool supplies.”

“Have you never heard of the internet?”

“I wish.” Spike laughed. “No internet out this far.”

Dodge set the books on the deck. Inside, the dogs barked, a cacophony of noise and chaos. The door opened and Nola stepped out on the porch. Noticeably pregnant, she wore one-piece thermal long johns, a flannel shirt, and a stocking cap over her sable brown hair. “Dodge, is that you?”

“Hey, Nola.” He met her hug. “You look good.”

“I look fat. And grumpy. And I smell. I long for a bath, a pizza, and a beach. No, change that to Chinese takeout and I’ll sell you my oldest kid.”

“Mom!”

Dodge couldn’t remember the daughter’s name, but she’d grown, her hair long in a dark brown braid as she came outside in her snow pants and a fraying wool sweater. She glanced up at Dodge, something of an embarrassed smile on her face.

And again, a younger Echo walked into his head, wearing her hair in two long braids and a smile that could stop his heart. Oh, the perils of finding your true love at the age of ten.

He should have known that coming back to Copper Mountain would awaken his mistakes.

“Hi—”

“Maylene.”

“And your brother is—”

“Archie,” said the boy. He was a couple years younger and a miniature version of Spike. He followed his father off the deck and down the hill.

“Archie!” Nola put a hand over her belly.

“We ran the bear off. He’s miles away,” Dodge told her.