Cole could remember, back when he was in grade school and Mason and Gabe, seven and five years older than him, were in high school, hearing raised voices a time or two. He hadn’t thought much of it at the time, probably so caught up in his own angst. He didn’t, for a minute, believe Mason could be as awful as he himself had been to their dad.

“We were shits, as kids are,” Mason continued. “And every single time, he forgave us for being shits. The thing is, he just wasn’t around long enough after your big fight for you to understand he forgave you.”

Somehow Mason might’ve just homed in on the heart of something significant. For all these years, Cole had been hung up on his dad dying while he was mad at Cole, disappointed in Cole. Before he’d been able to forgive Cole. But maybe he would have eventually. Cole had fucked up pretty majorly, more than his brothers ever had, and then been a big shithead about it, but their dad did eventually get over whatever he and his brothers pulled.

“Dad told me after one of your battles,” Mason said, “when I was home from college for a break, that you, out of all of us kids, were the most like him. He hated that and loved it at the same time.”

Cole frowned, trying to make sense of that. “How was I anything like him?”

“There were the obvious things you had in common, like pitching and reading and being wicked smart, but I think what he was really talking about was that Dad had some rebel in him just like you. He gave his parents hell growing up. So he understood you and thought that should’ve made it easier to get you through the hard stuff.”

Cole shook his head, knowing there’d been nothing easy for Harry North. Not where Cole was concerned.

“He loved you,” Mason said. “He knew you loved him. There’s not a doubt in my mind about that.”

The din around them disappeared from Cole’s awareness as he took in what his brother told him, pondered whether it could be true. Wondered if it could make a difference in his damn head. He remembered Sierra had said something similar all those weeks ago in the hospital.

Several more minutes passed with the brothers sitting there in silence, Cole lost in his thoughts and barely registering that Don had arrived and jumped right in to help Winona, who had a nearly full house. Mason’s beer was empty, his mug pushed to the serving side of the counter, and when Don, who was doing behind-the-bar duty while Winona hit the tables, asked if he wanted more, Mason waved him off.

Eventually Mason asked, “Have you ever grieved for Dad?”