Doc snorted. “That wasn’t what this story is about. Sit down.” When Hank reluctantly sat once more, his uncle just gave him a thoughtful look. “I’m telling you this not because I think you should be suspicious of your brothers but because you’re going to lose out on a good thing if you wait for the timing to be just right.”

Hank clenched his jaw, frustrated. “It isn’t about timing.”

“It’s always the timing, son.” Doc shook his head. “Don’t kid yourself. If you have feelings for her, then nothing else matters.”

“I asked her to go to Alaska with me.” He admitted the words slowly. “She wouldn’t go.”

“Why would she? There’s nothing up there for her. She’s not like your ma was. She’s not into the fishing and hunting and living rough. You knew that, too, and you still asked her out.”

“She asked me out—”

Doc threw his hands up. “But you said yes, right? My point is you knew who she was when you accepted. You were fine with her being a soft girly girl who likes hair and pretty clothes until it no longer suited your timing.”

He hated to admit it, but his uncle was right. He’d known Becca was exactly the wrong kind of girl for him when he’d gone out with her . . . and he’d still done it. She was the kind of woman he said he’d always avoid, and yet he couldn’t stop thinking about her.

Then again, Adria had been more his type, and look where it had gotten him. Meanwhile, Becca—who couldn’t bait a hook or chop a lick of wood—loved and cared for his daughter. She loved Hank, too . . . or at least she had.

Even if he could change who Becca was, Hank wasn’t so sure he would want to. He liked that Becca was soft and sweet. He liked that she loved to cook and curl up and watch movies. He loved that she was just a happy person, content to be exactly who she was.

They were at an impasse. He didn’t want her to change . . . but she didn’t fit into his life. “It’s not just about me. It’s about Libby—”

“Horseshit,” his uncle said, disgusted. “You’re hiding behind that as an excuse. Libby is four. She thinks Santa and the Easter Bunny are real. If you told her that school was amazing, she’d love it. But you and those brothers of yours have been telling her all along that school’s crap and she doesn’t need it, and of course she picked up on that. It’s no wonder she hated it. Millions of kids go to school every year and they get by just fine. You think Libby’s the one kid in the world that can’t figure out how to play well with others?”