Hank stared at his uncle in surprise. The man was utterly vehement.

Doc raised a hand in the air. “I know. I’m cussin’ up a storm. I just feel like you’re making mistakes, Hank. And I care for you boys—all three of you—and I want to help. Your father’s not around anymore, so it’s my duty to look after all three of you, even though you’re grown men.”

“What do you suggest, then?” Hank asked. “She won’t move with me.”

Doc gestured at him. “What do you want out of life? Let’s say you could have anything in the world. What would it be? What does your ideal situation look like? Is it a big house? Fancy cars? Seventeen children? What?”

Hank moved to the sink and washed his hands again as he thought. He’d washed them in the barn, but something about helping a cow give birth made him feel as if he had to clean them repeatedly, so he soaped up his arms to the elbow and thought. What did he want out of life? What was his perfect?

“I want Libby to be happy,” he admitted after a long moment, rinsing off the soap. He shook off the water and turned to face his uncle. “She’s my first priority.”

Doc nodded. “And for you?”

The answer was surprisingly easy. He didn’t want a big car or a big house, no. “I want a good woman at my side.” He knew just the one, too. “I want a big family. I want to be able to provide for them and keep them safe. I want nights in front of the fire with my family at my side, and I want to take my kids fishing and raise them somewhere safe where they can run free and be happy. I want to grow old with my wife . . . with Becca.”

“I’m not hearing Alaska in that fantasy of yours,” his uncle pointed out. “So why are you so fixated on it?”

He had no answer. The truth was, he’d always pictured Alaska as his home, but he thought about having a wife and half a dozen kids in their log cabin and . . . it didn’t work. The cabin was crowded with three men and a little girl. He couldn’t imagine squeezing more people into it. Plus, what if someone got hurt? He thought of Libby and the time she’d cut her finger and Jack had had to bandage it up because Hank had been out in the field, checking traps. What if it was something worse than a cut finger and they were a full day’s snowmobile ride to the most rudimentary of medical assistance?