Travis (Pelion Lake) by Mia Sheridan

“Aha!” Connor yelled triumphantly from just next to me, holding up the pack of gum he’d slipped from my pocket while I was rescuing his brother from his fake fall.

“My God, you boys are Ninjas,” I said, proud of their stealth, high-fiving them both.

They laughed and Bree eyed them disapprovingly, putting her one available hand on her hip. “Don’t pick pockets, you two.” She turned her gaze on me. “I thought you were supposed to be the law.”

“Who said?”

“The citizens of Pelion, apparently.”

“Ah, that’s right. Now I remember. Your mother’s right. Pickpocketing will eventually lead to the slammer.”

Connor looked mildly intrigued, an expression that melted into innocence as he turned to his mother. “Can we have some gum?” he asked very seriously, holding up the evidence of his crime.

The corner of Bree’s mouth twitched. “May we,” she corrected. “One each,” she said and the boys lit up with matching grins, Connor quickly doling out the gum and then with a nod of their mother’s head, they scampered inside, yelling, “Thanks, Uncle Travis,” behind them, chatting exuberantly about what sounded like a Lego castle. Those two definitely made up for my half-brother’s silence.

The baby eyed me warily, laying her head on Bree’s shoulder, her chubby hand gripping her mother’s shirt as though she saw in my eyes that I intended to kidnap her at any moment. I felt mildly offended. It was me who had led the rescue charge when the kid had made the poor choice to be born during one of the worst snowstorms in years, only six months before, causing her parents to have to deliver her themselves. It was like she’d already forgotten.

“Looking for Archer?” Bree asked.

“Yeah. I brought the police department’s data he asked for,” I said, pulling the folded printouts from my back pocket. Archer had asked that I pull together crime statistics for the town’s annual meeting coming up in July.

Bree nodded. “Lie down,” she said to the dogs who were still milling around my legs.

“That’s not a good idea, Bree. You’re married to my brother and I’m attached to someone. You really have to get over me once and for all.”

She rolled her eyes. “Funny.”

She focused her attention on the dogs—her serious mom look—and I grinned as they lay down on the porch, the larger black dog and the small, curly-haired white one flopping onto their sides, the brown one still grinning up at me like some furry demented clown. I glared at it, letting it know that it should save its furry deranged clown business for someone who couldn’t fight it off. Its grin stretched, widened. Jesus. I gave it an extensive berth as Bree stepped inside the house and motioned me to follow her. “Archer texted a few minutes ago. He’s running a little late but he should be home shortly.”

The house was small but homey. It smelled like vanilla and something savory cooking in the kitchen. The boys argued genially, their animated voices rising and falling as they played in their room at the back of the house. The windows were open wide and the curtains fluttered in the breeze coming off the lake. The hardwood floor creaked under Bree’s bare feet as she walked to the kitchen, chubby baby perched on her hip. Would this be so bad? A home like this? A life like this?

“You’re welcome to stay for dinner,” Bree said. There was only the barest hint of hesitation in her tone, as though she wasn’t a hundred percent sure she meant what she said. I guess that’s going to take a while—maybe forever.

I set the papers down and leaned against the counter as I watched her juggle Averie, while checking something in the oven and then stirring what looked like pasta on the range. “I can’t. I got tonight off so I can surprise Phoebe and take her to dinner.”

Bree let out a small laugh but it died a quick death. “Sorry. I just wish your girlfriend didn’t have the same name as my dog. It’s . . . unsettling.”

“So change its name.”

She turned to me quickly, looking more than a little outraged. “You can’t just—” She shook her head as though what she was about to say wasn’t worth her time. “Anyway, I’m sure she’ll be thrilled that you’re off.” She looked at me sideways. “How are things going with her? You’ve been seeing her for what? About a year now?”

I nodded, warmth infusing my chest as Phoebe’s smile filled my mind’s eye, the way she still sighed and looked nearly star-struck when I winked at her. “Ten months. She’s good. She’s great.” She worships me.

Bree had gone back to her stirring, but now stopped, placing the spoon on the counter. She shifted Averie so she was holding her with two arms and leaned against the counter, resting her chin on the baby’s head and watching me thoughtfully. “Travis Hale. I never thought I’d see the day. You’re actually serious about someone, aren’t you?”

“Jealous?” I grinned but she remained serious. My smile slipped.

“No. Glad. It’s good to see you finding happiness.”

There was a full, weighted silence that made me feel itchy. I didn’t know what to say. In all honesty, Bree had every right to wish me unhappiness for the rest of my days even though Archer and I had mended fences, and I tried my damnedest to be a good uncle to my nephews—which wasn’t hard because, frankly, I enjoyed the hell out of them—and someday, if I was able to win her over, the niece still watching me cautiously. The way I’d acted when Bree first came to Pelion . . . the things I’d done to my brother all our lives, would forever be between us. Years had passed, holidays had gone by, I liked to think I’d matured, but even so, there was nothing I could do to change the way I’d hurt them in the past. The things my actions might have caused.