video counseling with her to keep himself mentally strong.
He glanced down as Deacon stepped on his foot, and found his next oldest sibling trying to wrench the pen away from the five-year-old. “Tucker,” Hunter said quietly, and the seven-year-old looked up at him. Hunter shook his head and nodded his cowboy hat toward the front.
Tucker was the middle child of Dad and Elise, and he looked like it. He was half dark and half light, with blonde hair that came from Elise and brown eyes that came from Dad. Beside him stood Jane, a ten-year-old that, at first glance, looked like Dad hadn’t had any part in her creation. She had Elise’s blue eyes and blonde hair, though if Hunter looked further than surface colors, he’d find the Hammond chin and nose on Jane’s face.
She looked at him and smiled, and Hunt smiled back. He’d loved these kids as he’d grown up. He’d left for MIT only a week after Tucker had been born, and he’d come home to hold Deacon for a whole weekend before he had to return to Massachusetts.
The song ended, and Hunter sat down. He reached over and took the pen from Tucker and gave it back to Deacon. Tucker glared at him, and Hunt reached into his breast pocket and pulled out another pen.
He lifted his eyebrows at Tucker, who softened and nodded. Hunter looked at Deacon, his message clear. Tucker leaned over and said, “Sorry, Deac,” and Hunter handed Tucker the pen.
When he looked up, he met his father’s eyes, and Hunter saw so much of himself in his dad. Gray Hammond had grayed too, but he still radiated power from his broad shoulders and strength from his eyes. Dad had been a corporate lawyer for the first twelve years of Hunter’s life, and he’d been his absolute best friend forever.
Hunter hated disappointing him, and he’d worked as hard as he knew how to make sure he upheld the Hammond legacy and made something of the money his father had given him. Extreme gratitude flowed through him as he continued to hold his father’s gaze, and finally Dad grinned and whispered, “We need to go fishing.”
Hunter nodded, his chest tight. He missed fishing with his father terribly. He missed hugging Elise. He missed laying on the floor while the littles crawled all over him, trying-but-not-really-trying to get away from him as he tickled them.
He’d missed Ivory Peaks and his life here with a force he hadn’t even recognized until now.
You’re back, he told himself as Pastor Benson got behind the mic again and began his sermon.
Hunter refused to look around and find the rest of the Benson family. He and Molly had managed to stay friends through the rest of high school, but Hunter hadn’t kept in touch with her over the past several years. She’d earned some money to a university in Denver, and as far as he knew, she’d gone, graduated, gotten married, moved on.
Hunter had tried to do that too. He’d taken his uncles’ advice and kissed a lot of girls. Uncle Colton had said there was nothing wrong with kissing, and after a rocky start, Hunter found he sure did like it.
His senior year, he took a different girl to every available school dance, and he’d kissed them all. In college, he asked out anyone who caught his eye, and he kissed all of those women too. He’d met a girl named Abby, and he’d started to fall for her. They’d dated for a year before he finally had to accept that they were on two different paths.
His had always been coming back to Colorado and Ivory Peaks. Always. He loved the farm with every cell in his body, and he loved his grandparents more than that. He knew he’d use his degree at the family company, and he’d known Abby had her own family obligations.
When she’d finished her bachelor’s degree at MIT, she’d returned to New York to work in that family business, and they’d broken up.
Hunter could still hear her voice sometimes, if he held very still and blocked out all other noise. He missed her too, but it had been a couple of years since that relationship had ended, and he’d once again taken some time to find himself before he asked anyone else out.
For the past year, he’d dated only casually, and that had been enough for him.
Looking down the row of children to his dad, he thought he might like to get started on a