"Storm's come in early." Chase called out a warning to the rest of the house as Hank slammed the front door.

He took a moment to collect himself in the darkened hallway. His chest rose and fell as he tried to grasp some for some sort of inner Zen. At the very least, he needed to come to terms with what had been said that night.

What he had said.

He couldn't take it back now. He couldn't banish the memory of the stunned expression on Lana's face as he’d dismantled everything they had been tentatively building between them. Ten years ago, he would have given anything for her to follow him out of Cedar Springs . . . but she couldn't see how impossible that was. She didn't know the full story. It was better this way—better if she moved on—and found a man more worthy of her love than he was.

She still didn't know what he had done.

Hank redirected his thoughts into his hands, clenching his fists at his sides. He turned and strode into the living room.

Chase was camped out on the couch in a T-shirt and boxers, flipping through channels. Landon sat in the armchair across from him, reading. Hank was surprised to see them both home, but it was just as well. He'd been meaning to talk to them.

"You look like you're in a good mood," Landon noted. He turned a page in his book without raising his eyes.

It used to be that Hank could rely on Landon to not give him shit. He surveyed the two of them, arms crossed, and let his displeasure be known with a glower. He didn't remember Chase and Landon being this chummy back in Alaska. "We need to discuss the timeline for going home," he said. "The day's coming sooner than you might think. I'd rather stay on top of our plans to avoid any surprises when the local fire chief dismisses us."

Chase and Landon glanced at each other. Again, Hank was left wondering when their friendship had evolved to allow them to silently communicate. "Thing is, Chief . . ." Chase began.

"Neither of us is sure we want to go home," Landon concluded.

Hank stared at them. Had he accidentally pulled the wrong squad into a meeting? Were these his men, or weren't they? "And where the hell is it you expect to go, exactly?"

"We-e-ell." Chase scratched the back of his head sheepishly. "I sort of figured I'd go wherever Sookie goes. She can't just drop the National Guard and come with me to Alaska. I'm a lot more moveable than she is."

"You have a job," Hank pointed out.

Chase shrugged. "There are fires to fight everywhere. Right? Cedar Springs is just Exhibit A. We left our jobs in Alaska to go where we were needed."

Hank turned to Landon. "What about you?"

"I'm staying with Alex." Landon closed his book and set it aside. "Or did you forget that I'm engaged?"

Hank had forgotten. But he admitted to nothing.

Landon raised an eyebrow and sat forward in his chair, but he didn't push it. "The truth is, Chief, even if we were to go back to Alaska and help you square everything away, neither of us would be there for very long. Nothing serious ever happens back at the station."

"And there's a line of guys around town who would love to replace us," Chase put in. He was sitting up now, as well. Of the two of them, Hank generally had a hard time taking Chase the most seriously—especially considering the man was sitting there in his underwear. But he couldn't dismiss the look on his youngest squad member's face. The guy looked clear-headed and focused. He looked like he meant what he said.

"That's fine," Hank replied. "Just let me know what you want to do."

The two men exchanged looks again. "Really? Just like that?" Chase said.

"Just like that."

And just like that, Hank was no longer in the room with them. He imagined himself back at the Alaska station, doing . . . what? Barking orders at another squad of interchangeable faces? Pulling cats from trees and answering house calls? He was the station chief; what more was there for him to reach for?

It wasn't just the two faces of his men, but hard reality that stared him down now in that living room. There was nothing waiting for him back in Alaska but a history of hiding out.

He just hadn't been able to admit it to himself until he came to Cedar Springs.

"You all right, Chief?" Landon's question seemed to come from miles away.

"I think we broke him," Chase said.

"I'm going for a walk," Hank responded. He turned and exited the living room, grabbing his coat along the way out. Once outside, he forced himself to pivot in the opposite direction from Lana's house. It shone like a lighthouse in his mind, a beacon calling to him . . . but he couldn't bring himself to answer after all that had already been said tonight.

Every way I turn, I make a mistake.

He headed into town. He needed a drink. He needed to muddy his thoughts, or clear his head, or both.

Or maybe he didn't know the first damn thing about what it was he needed.