Galeana is the first to react, smoothing over the moment with a warm smile. She moves toward us with the same easy grace she’s always had since I met her, greeting me with a polite nod before turning to Blythe.

“Blythe, it’s so nice to see you again,” she says, pulling her into a hug.

I don’t miss the way Blythe stiffens—barely, but I notice. She pushes the feeling away and keeps herself composed, but her arms don’t quite wrap around Galeana in return.

No one else seems to see it.

“It’s good seeing you,” Blythe murmurs, her voice even. Controlled. Then waves at Simone and Delilah, who are sitting in the living room, wine in hand.

“I’m glad you decided to join us, Atlas,” Galeana adds, turning back to me.

I nod. “Thank you for the invitation.”

Because what the fuck else am I supposed to say? Oh, I’m just here to figure out my next move and convince the town we’re a fucking happy family.

Ledger leans back against the kitchen counter, drink in hand, watching me like he’s waiting for something—some tell, some crack in my expression that’ll give him what he wants.

Then he smirks. “Didn’t think I’d ever see the day you’d settle down,” he muses. “Atlas, the married man. And here I thought you’d die alone, scowling at the world from the corner of a bar—like our father.”

I should let it roll off me. I should.

But the way he says it, the way his words sink their claws into old wounds—I could remind him that he’s more like our father than I’ll ever be. That if he ever watched clips from his old hockey games, he’d see himself throwing punches, losing control, just like him.

How the fuck is that any different? He wasn’t drunk and was paid to do it?

Before I can say anything, Galeana’s voice cuts through. “Be nice, Ledge.”

Ledger lifts his drink in mock surrender. “Please, I’m being too fucking nice.” He pushes off the counter and heads toward the bar cart. “Would you like something to drink? Whiskey? Tequila? Pick your poison.”

Blythe shifts closer to me—just slightly. It’s subtle, instinctive, like she isn’t sure about Ledger, maybe even wary of him.

I drop my arm around her shoulders, pulling her in. Just enough so she knows she’s not alone. “It’s okay, sweetheart,” I murmur low, just for her.

Ledger notices. His gaze flicks between us like he’s studying us.

I hold his stare.

Then the front door swings open again, and the tense energy in the room cracks, relief slipping through the fractures as Maddy’s voice rings out. “Uncle Atlas.”

She sprints through the doorway, her little legs moving way too fast as she barrels toward me.