What he claimed to want—Becca, Libby, more children, a quiet life—didn’t necessarily have anything to do with Alaska. It was just him being stubborn. Alaska was easy to run back to because he knew what was required of him there. With Becca, he sometimes felt out of his depth. Like he wasn’t going to live up to her expectations.

Doc just clapped him on the shoulder. “You think about it for a while, son. Maybe you stay here in Wyoming; maybe you don’t. There’s always a job for you at this ranch and a place to live. If that’s not what you want, though, that’s fine, too. But regret is a terrible bed partner, so make sure that you don’t let a good thing slip past you.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Hank thought about his uncle’s words all day. He cleaned the barn from top to bottom as he silently mulled his thoughts. What would his future look like if he stayed here? He tried to imagine it. There’d be cattle in his future instead of trapping, but he didn’t mind ranching. It was hard work, but it let him be out in the sunshine and there was a satisfaction to tending a fat, full herd. Maybe he wouldn’t keep living in the main house, though. Maybe he’d take one of the cowboy cabins and expand on it, make it a home.

Maybe he’d build Becca a new home right next to this one. Something with a big kitchen and a big wraparound sofa so they could cuddle up and watch movies together every night. He imagined a house with her in it, and it’d be full of scented candles and those silly throw pillows she was enamored with, but it’d also be full of her bright laughter and her joy. He pictured her holding Libby’s hand, her other hand in his . . . and his chest squeezed so hard with longing it felt like a physical ache. Yeah, he wanted that.

He wanted to give her the children she wanted. He wanted to see her smile every morning and every night. He wanted to hold her close and love her with all his damned heart.

And she’d shown up that morning, all pretty, with a box of doughnuts, a shy smile of greeting on her face. He hadn’t been able to figure out why she’d come by.

Had she . . . changed her mind about him, too? Did she miss him like he missed her? Because not having Becca at his side was like missing a limb . . . or having his heart ripped out of his chest. He wasn’t surviving without it. He needed her.

The realization hit him like a load of bricks. He didn’t need Alaska. He needed her.