“Daddy!” Noah cries, running through the brightly-colored autumn leaves. “Carry me!” He reaches up his little arms to Cas, his eyes beseeching.

“Noah, you’re six years old! You’re a big boy now,” I admonish him as we walk along. “You can walk on your own two legs.”

“But I’m tired!” Noah complains dramatically, as though we’ve been walking for hours. His eyes go from me to Cas, giving both of us his best forlorn and exhausted look. I roll my eyes, but I’m trying not to laugh. Noah loves his daddy so much, he’ll use just about any excuse to get a shoulder ride from him.

Cas looks over at me and winks. “You need a birds-eye view, buddy?” he asks his son.

Noah whoops with excitement as Cas scoops him up in his arms and deposits him high on his broad shoulders. I hang back for a moment and watch as the two of them continue down the long gravel drive. Noah is the spitting image of his father with his deep cocoa-colored eyes and tousle of brown hair. As always, it makes my heart swell to look at the two of them together.

We’ve been walking for about half a mile now. This road’s a little rougher than I remember from when I was a kid. Granted, I haven’t been here for years and years. I didn’t even know it still existed, frankly, until we got the postcard. I’m glad we decided to park my car further back and decided to walk the rest of the way. I’m not sure we would have had the clearance to make it all the way.

“Good thing we decided not to bring the stroller,” Cas remarks, seeming to read my mind.

“No kidding,” I agree. My hands instinctively move to the little warm bundle I’m carrying snugly in the wrap against my chest. A little coo of contentment comes from my newborn in response. Adoringly, I kiss the top of her little head and breathe in the intoxicating new baby smell.

“My little baby,” I whisper to her. “My sweet little girl.”

We’ve named her Mariana, after my mom, Maria. She was born four months ago, coincidentally in the same birth month as my mother. Looking at my little daughter, I can already see that she’s going to have my mom’s eyes, and her tangle of blond hair — although Cas insists that Mariana got her hair from me. I let it start growing out and going back to its natural color when I got pregnant, and just last week I managed to trim the last of the darker ends off. I don’t know why, but it felt like a liberation to do it. Like I was coming back to myself.

Absently, I reach up and push a strand back behind my ear just as we round the last wooded corner. A tiny house comes into view, one that’s seen better days and definitely needs a paint job. I’m not sure if Dad’s been hiding out here the whole time, or if he’s just come here as a way to see us. The only thing on the postcard was an address. Angel said he’d gotten one, too, but he’s coming out here separately.

It’s the first time any of us has seen my dad since he had to disappear last year. For a while, I was half-convinced he was dead. But he must at least be somewhere close enough that he knows a little about Angel’s and my comings and goings, because the address where he sent the postcard was the right one even though Cas and I moved into a house of our own about six months ago. One big enough for a family of four, and maybe more on the way.

As we approach the little house, a door opens, and an old man steps outside. For a moment, I don’t even register him as Abe Abbott, he’s changed that much. His hair has gone completely gray, and he’s stooped over in a way I don’t remember him being. My heart lurches in spite of myself. He seems to have aged ten years in one.

“Wow,” Cas murmurs beside me. “He’s changed.”

Cas takes Noah off his shoulders and sets him down. We each take one of his hands, and the four of us walk up to the front porch of the tiny abode. My father’s face breaks into a wide grin.

“Jenna!” he cries, and comes down the steps to greet us. He wraps me in a careful embrace that feels odd, since he rarely hugged me growing up. I hug him back and let him give me a papery kiss on the cheek.

“Hi, Daddy,” I say, and smile at him.

“My goodness, look at this!” he says heartily, looking at the baby. “If this isn’t a surprise!”

“This is Mariana,” I tell him.

Dad’s eyes get a little misty as he shoots me a quick glance. He lifts a slightly shaky hand and offers a finger for Mariana to grasp. “Oh, that’s something,” he half-whispers as her tiny fingers wind around his. “Mariana. Wouldn’t your mother have loved to see this?”

“Yes, I think she would have,” I smile. A huge, painful lump forms in my throat, and I try my best to swallow around it.

For a few moments, he just stares at Mariana, nodding absently at some thought that only he knows. Then, with a deep breath, he turns and bends down to Noah.

“Well, hello, young man,” he says jovially. “Do you remember your grandpa?”

Noah glances up at me uncertainly. “Sort of,” he says, his voice full of doubt.

“You remember Grandpa,” I tell him. “It’s just been a long time, honey.” I turn to Dad. “A year’s an eternity for a boy that age,” I explain. “Don’t take it personally.”

Dad gives me a sad smile. “I know. It’s okay.” He straightens, and then turns toward the house. “Well, let’s go inside. I can’t offer you much to eat or drink, but at least we can sit down and get comfortable.”

We follow Dad into the house. Inside, the musty odor that greets us and the film of dust on all the surfaces tell me that he’s not actually living here. I didn’t notice a car outside, though. A wave of sadness rises up inside me for the thousandth time that I don’t — can’t — know anything about my father’s life now. How lonely he must be, I think. Even though I know he made his own bed, I can’t help but pity him.

We sit down in a tiny living area, on a lumpy couch and some faded chairs, one of which is a rocker. I take out Noah’s little tablet and let him settle in a corner with it, then sit down in the rocking chair with Mariana.

“So, Casper,” my dad addresses Cas, as though this is a completely normal conversation. “How’s life treating you? How’s the club?”

“Good,” Cas nods. “Fine. Have you talked to Angel at all?”

“I saw him about a week ago,” Dad says vaguely. “He tells me the Lords aren’t exactly thrilled with the new mayor in town.” Dad’s eyes flash, a mixture of jealousy and satisfaction that his replacement isn’t well liked.

“Yeah,” Cas says, his lip curling slightly. “Without you around, Jarred Holloway didn’t have any other serious competition.” Cas lets out a low snort. “Goddamn, that guy’s a tool.”

Mayor Holloway has the dubious honor of being almost universally disliked now that he’s in office, by both the townspeople and the MC alike. So far, he hasn’t done much in town beyond prancing around self-importantly and appointing a bunch of his friends to prominent positions. Personally, I hope it stays that way. He has started making noises about getting “tough on crime,” though, maybe hoping that will be a stance that improves his popularity among the people of Tanner Springs.

Dad asks a bunch of questions about the new mayor, clearly enjoying the knowledge that his replacement isn’t well-liked. I watch Cas indulge him, and can’t suppress a feeling of sadness that my father has been relegated to living his life mostly in the past.

We stay for a couple of hours, until Noah starts to make noise about being hungry. “We probably better go, Dad,” I say eventually. I accept Cas’s hand as he helps me up from the couch.

He smiles and stands as well. “All right. I understand. It’s real good to see you Jenna. You and your little family.” He looks at me gently. “You seem happy.”

“I am, Dad,” I smile, moving into Cas’s arms. “I am.”

Dad accompanies us out to the front of the house and walks with us a little way down the path. Eventually, he tells us he’s going to turn back.

“When will we see you again?” I ask him, offering my cheek for him to kiss it.

“Oh, I don’t know,” he murmurs vaguely. “I suppose one of these days I’ll be back around here and we’ll get together again.” A flicker of sadness and fatigue flits across his face, in the span of an instant. Then it’s gone. “You two take care, now. Cas, good to see you.” He sticks out his hand, and Cas takes it.

“You, too, Abe,” Cas nods. “Noah, come on! Let’s go.”

Noah runs down the path toward us, and we walk back the way we came. We bundle the kids into the car and Cas takes the wheel to drive us back to Tanner Springs.

“He seems okay,” Cas murmurs to me as he drives. He reaches over and takes my hand in his, squeezing it. “As okay as he can be, anyway.”

“Yeah.” I squeeze back, torn between sorrow for my dad and thankfulness that he’s even alive. I know his mistakes brought him to where he is now. But I also know that maybe, just maybe, if a few things had turned out differently, he and my mom might be sitting on their front porch right now, fussing over their grandkids as the sun sets.

Mistakes can take over our lives, snowballing out of control until they roll over everything else in their path. That’s what happened to my dad. I just hope he can find some peace, and that maybe someday, he’ll be able to have a life again that makes him happy.

I look over at Cas as he drives our little family home. My love for him feels so overwhelming I almost can’t bear it for a moment. Cas senses my eyes on him. He turns to me and flashes me his dazzling, sexy smile — the one I’ve come to know so well.

“Hey, gorgeous,” he winks at me. “You good?”

“I’m better than good,” I reply.

“Damn straight you are,” he growls, and raises his eyebrows at me.

“Language,” I smirk.

“It’s okay, Mommy, I’m not listening,” Noah calls from the backseat.

Cas and I burst out laughing. From the back, Noah’s childish giggle joins with our laughter as we head toward the sunset, Tanner Springs, and home.