On the way, his gaze caught the picture in the office, the one with all of them, minus their mother, of course. But Larke, Ranger, Colt, Dodge, and his father all stood in front of his beautiful orange-and-white de Havilland Otter, the mountains green in the background. To his memory, it was the day Larke had finished her first solo.

They were grinning, and his father had his arms around Ranger and Colt.

“Son.”

Oh, it was the tone, a soft warning, the same tone he’d use when Dodge would overcorrect or might be about to miss his landing. He probably shouldn’t have, but he bristled. “I didn’t come back here to be lectured.”

“You need to forgive her. She was young. And Colt was—”

“Stupid? A jerk?”

“Yes,” his father said quietly. And that turned Dodge. He just stared at the man. “Then why did you side with him?”

“I didn’t side with anyone—”

“I sat in jail with a couple drunks waiting for you to bail me out! I sat there like a fool, and you never showed. Do you have any idea what that felt like as an eighteen-year-old kid? To know your father chose your stupid, arrogant, irresponsible brother over you?”

“I didn’t choose him, Dodge. I just didn’t bail you out.”

“Really, Dad? C’mon. Just admit that you picked Colt over me.”

“He was injured, Dodge. Seriously injured.”

“Because he was drunk!”

“And you weren’t injured.”

“And whose fault was that?”

His father held up a hand. “You needed to think about your actions—”

“You let me sit in jail for a week. A week.”

“It was better than for the rest of your life.”

Dodge’s mouth tightened, and he looked away.

“If the charges hadn’t been dropped, you would have gone to prison for assault. And then who would you have become? Certainly not the man of honor that you are today.”

He wasn’t a man of honor, but he skipped that and went right to, “And I’m supposed to be thankful?”

“No. But that perspective might help you forgive him. And her.”

“I’ve already forgiven her.”

His father cocked his head. “Really?”

“Yes. She apologized. It’s over.”

“You’ve got a pretty big chip on your shoulder to call that over. It’s gotta be getting heavy.”

“I’m fine.”

“Dodge. Be honest. It’s not close to over. You’ve been nursing this wound for nearly ten years, working it off over there in Afghanistan, trying to forget the girl you’ve loved since you were ten. There’s no way this is over. There is so much bitterness sitting in your heart you can’t even see it. But maybe that’s why God brought you back—for her. And to set you free from all that darkness.”