Libby didn’t need Alaska, either. If she didn’t like school, they’d figure something out. But she needed Becca in her life, too. She needed two parents to love and look after her. With that thought swimming in his head, he dumped the rest of the fresh hay into the horse stalls and then headed inside.

“Libby?” he called out, and she came around the corner, riding on Jack’s shoulders. Her giggles were wild, her face lit up with amusement. There was a half-eaten peanut butter and jam sandwich in her hand, and some of her curls were dragging through the sandwich. Her overalls were filthy, and she looked like a damned mess.

“We’re just playing a bit of horsey,” Jack told him, and did a mock gallop to make Libby laugh again.

Hank raised his arms. “Horsey time is over. You’re a mess, Libs.” She launched herself into his arms and he caught her, then settled her on his hip. “You and I need to talk.”

“Okay, Daddy,” she said brightly.

“What about?” Jack asked.

He frowned at Jack. His youngest brother had a good heart, but if anything, his stubbornness ran deeper than even Hank’s. He wouldn’t like to hear that Hank and Libby were going to stay in Painted Barrel, too. Best to hide that information from him until everything was settled. “Father-daughter stuff.”

Jack put his hands up. “Sounds creepy. I’m out.”

It wasn’t creepy, damn it. But if that got Jack to leave, so much the better. Hank bit back a retort and took Libby upstairs to the bathroom, removing the squashed sandwich from her hand and washing her arms and face. “Daddy needs to tell you some important stuff, okay, Libs?”

She gave him a surprisingly serious look. “Are you okay, Daddy?”

“I will be,” he promised her. “I’ve been . . . giving the future a lot of thought. And I was just thinking that maybe you and I will stay here for a while instead of going back to Alaska. What do you think?”

“Can I have a bubble bath?”

Clearly she wasn’t understanding the gravity of the situation. He expected that, since she was four, but he needed to make her understand. “If we stay here, that means you have to go back to school.”

Libby shrugged. “Okay.”

That . . . was it? “I don’t want you to feel anxious about it—”

“Can I have a bubble bath after school?”

“. . . Sure?”

She beamed.

“You’re not upset about school?”

Libby shrugged again and he decided not to press it. If she was happy, then going back to Alaska wasn’t all that necessary, was it? He sighed deeply, a load of stress off his shoulders. Why was everything with Libby so simple and yet so complicated at the same time? “Let’s get you in the tub, and Daddy’s going to text Becca, okay?”