“Look, this is no time to be indulging in self-pity, little brother,” Jordan snapped impatiently. “Daddy needs you here, probably more than he needs any of the rest of us. He’ll need you to take up some of the slack at White Pines while he pulls himself together. He’s always depended on you. Don’t let him down now.”

Cody said nothing.

Jordan finally broke the silence with a sigh. “We’re scheduling the funeral for Saturday,” he said. “Be here, Cody.”

He hung up before Cody could reply.

Cody sat in the gathering darkness, silent, unchecked tears streaking down his cheeks. He had no choice and he knew it. Mary Adams might not have been the kind of warm, doting mother a child dreamed of, but Harlan Adams had worshiped her. He could not let his father go through this kind of grief without all of his sons at his side. It was the kind of loyalty that had been ingrained in him since birth. As badly as he wanted to pretend it didn’t matter, he knew better. Nothing mattered more at a time like this.

He took some small comfort in the odds that said he would probably never even see Melissa. He doubted she would have the nerve to show up at the funeral. She certainly wouldn’t have the audacity to show up at White Pines afterward. It would be okay. He could slip in and out of town before temptation overtook him and he sought out so much as a glimpse of her.

At least, that’s what he told himself on the long, sad drive back to Texas after he’d cleared his departure with Lance. He’d chosen to drive to delay his arrival as long as possible. Maybe to come to grips with what had happened in private. He’d spend a few days with his family to grieve. A few days to do whatever he could for his father. A few days to spoil his nieces and hold his brand new nephew. A few days to soak up enough memories to last a lifetime.

With all that going on, Melissa would be the last thing on his mind.

The very last thing, he vowed with grim determination as he finally turned into the lane to White Pines.

He slowed his pickup and looked around at the land that he loved, the land he’d hoped one day would be his since Luke’s mile-wide independent streak had sent him chasing after his own dream and his own ranch and Jordan was only interested in oil.

Even in the dead of winter, it was starkly beautiful, at least to him. He was home and suddenly, despite the sorrow that had drawn him back, he felt at peace for the first time since he’d driven away more than eighteen months before.