Zoe York's Blog

Wild at Heart (Kincaids of Pine Harbour #3) comes out on Tuesday, and I’m very excited to share it with readers! I’m also struggling to write content notes for it, which I know people appreciate (and I like to provide! I have comprehensive content warnings for most of my Ainsley Booth books).

There is one major content note for this book: it deals with grief after a parent’s death. But my struggle, as I think about if I need to be more explicit, is that I think all my books are about that. This book is just more on the nose than the others.

(It’s not a struggle. That’s not the right word. But I tend to express myself best in 80,000 words with multiple passes, not short blog posts dashed off quickly on a Saturday to explain why there isn’t a content note on this book yet.)

This year was the 20th anniversary of my mom’s passing. She died on September 11, 2001, in a rural hospital just south of where I’ve set fictional Pine Harbour. She had breast cancer. She was loved by a large family, and adored by long-time subscribers to her magazine. Her funeral filled the small town church to absolute capacity.

But she wasn’t universally loved by everyone in her local community. She was seen as wild and radical, and people whispered.

I poured all of that into Wild at Heart. My own grief, those two different experiences.

(It’s also a book about community service and hot sex and friendship and misunderstandings)

I think what I’ve realized is that I don’t have a simple, objective list of content warnings for any of my Pine Harbour books, because they are slices of me. I will endeavour to fix that after this release, but for now, I hope this blog post provides sufficient context.

It’s time to update the handy dandy guide to all the book boyfriends in my small town romance series, Wardham, Pine Harbour, and the Kincaids of Pine Harbour.

Some readers will recognize this original graphic breaking down the different heroes by some of our favourite book boyfriend characteristics.

Now for 2021 I’m expanding the list to include all my small town books written to date!

And if you like lists of romance tropes, I have a master trope list of all my romance novels here.

If you like your book boyfriend to wear a tool belt, start reading…

Kyle in What Once Was Perfect
Liam in When They Weren’t Looking
Jake in Love in a Snowstorm
Tom in Love on the Edge of Reason
Adam in Fierce at Heart

If you want a book boyfriend who is a first responder, start reading…

Paul in Where Their Hearts Collide
Rafe in Love in a Small Town
Matt in Love on the Outskirts of Town
Owen in Reckless at Heart
Adam in Fierce at Heart
Brent in All That They Desire

Like a book boyfriend who wears plaid and chops wood like a boss? Start reading…

Ian in Between Then and Now
Ryan in Love on a Spring Morning
Dean in Love on the Run
Tom in Love on the Edge of Reason

Looking for a book boyfriend who wears a suit?

Finn in Beyond Love and Hate
Chase in No Time Like Forever
Evan in All That They Desire
Will in Wild at Heart

What about a guy who wears biker boots?

Ian in Between Then and Now
Zander in Love on a Summer Night

Book boyfriends who are sexy dads?

Ian in Between Then and Now
Paul in Where Their Hearts Collide
Ryan in Love on a Spring Morning
Owen in Reckless at Heart

And the one who is not like all the others, the broken soldier recovering at home…

Sean in Love in a Sandstorm

This one is for any romance reader looking for her next Navy SEAL romance read, or a small town romance novel, but you aren’t sure which book to pick up.

Good news is, I write both of those things! And I put four reader favourite options into this brand new romance novel quiz, with eight easy-to-answer questions that will deliver you a customized reading suggestion at the end.

Ready?

Take the Quiz now: Must-Read Small Town Romances

This is a best of my military romance novels list, a mix of swoon-worthy small town romance (The Kincaids series from Pine Harbour, or something from the OG Pine Harbour series?) and some Navy SEAL romance books, too.

And if you are curious about the quiz, I made it using Interact. The image came from their integrated search of the Unsplash catalogue, and I really love it, so full credit to the photographer Brooke Cagle.

Fierce at Heart (Kincaids of Pine Harbour book #2) comes out on January 26, 2021. Here is an advance look at the first chapter.

Please note that minor editorial revisions may happen before publication.

Chapter One

Something about the way the man strode through the crowded mezzanine caught Isla Petersen’s attention. She had just sold another box of bake sale treats to a customer when the shape of him caught her eye, and for a moment she panicked. But when she swallowed back that fear and took a good look, she knew it wasn’t her former husband she had spotted in Toronto’s St. Lawrence Market. Adam Kincaid was taller than her ex, and broader, too. Brawny now, in a way he hadn’t been four years earlier when she saw him last—at an airbase a few hours away, both of them having just returned from Afghanistan.

A lifetime ago.

She blinked, ready for him to disappear, be replaced by someone who just looked like him, shared the same thick golden brown hair and square jaw, who walked with a cocky confidence she knew he didn’t always feel.

But even after shaking her head, he was still there, and getting closer. His eyes twinkled as he took in the sight of her, and she knew he was having the same moment of hey, I recognize you, but wow, you’ve changed disconnect. Except in her case, that change wasn’t so clearly for the better.

“How much are the cookies?” he asked, pointing to a sign that clearly said 25 cents each. She’d missed his gentle teasing, the way he followed the question with a smile that warmed his eyes. “No way they’re only a quarter.”

Laughing, she rounded the table and launched herself into his embrace. He squeezed her back.

“Master Corporal Kincaid,” she whispered as she stepped back and bounced.

“Captain Petersen,” he echoed, setting his hands on her shoulders and holding her still so he could get another good look at her. “Look at you.”

“It’s just Isla now.” She swallowed hard. “I got out.”

He grinned. “Me, too. I bet that’s no surprise to you.”

She let out a relieved breath, and he laughed with her. “I guess it’s been a while.”

His gaze raked over her, lingering on her hair, which was loose and wavy now, quite different from the bun she always wore in the army. Then he glanced behind her at her hand-painted sign, the touch of whimsy that hopefully conveyed what her stall was all about. An old-school Bake Sale!, just like people remembered from high school. When Adam nodded approvingly, something tight in her chest eased a little. “You’re a baker now?”

“It’s a long story.” She grabbed at his hands and laughed again. “This is such a surprise. Are you living in the city?”

Adam was a self-described country boy, born and bred, from a small town called Pine Harbour on the Bruce Peninsula. “Temporarily. I came here for school. How about you?”

“Same. I just graduated from a culinary academy. This is part of our segue into the working world. We do these pop-up events at markets to test our wares.”

“Then I really do want a cookie. And two of everything else.”

She got a white box from behind the table and picked out a selection for him. “Two of everything,” she repeated, her curiosity getting the better of her. “Are you sharing these with someone?”

He winked. “Nope. They’re going to be my rewards for getting through my final week of training. I’m a few weeks away from finishing firefighter school.”

“Oh, Adam. That’s amazing. Well done.” Her lips twitched in amusement. “I was going to say that you looked good, like you’d put on some muscle, but didn’t want to make it sound like…”

“Like the last time you saw me I was verging on malnourished?” He gave her a rueful smile. “You ran us into the ground, and I mean that with all due respect.”

Her smile softened, went bittersweet. “That was a hard tour.” She thought of his best friend, a fellow reservist from Bruce County who had experienced some of the darkest moments of their time overseas. “You still keep in touch with Stevie?”

Adam nodded. “Yeah. We worked together for a while, as house movers. He’s hanging in there. He moved out to B.C. this year to work at a ski resort.”

She watched him intently as he talked, wishing the market wasn’t quite so noisy, wanting to hear everything about how he’d gotten on after he got out of the army. “Good. I’m glad—”

Another customer approached, and Isla had to cut herself off. 

Adam stepped to the side, then came back when she’d completed that sale. They tried again, but the next lull in traffic didn’t last long, either.

Isla’s heart sank when he gave her a look that said, what are you going to do?

“It was really good to see you—” he started.

“How long are you—”

They both stopped and tried again, at the same time—again.

Adam gestured for Isla to continue.

She hadn’t known how much she’d needed to reconnect with someone from her past until this moment—someone not toxic, someone who maybe understood what she was going through in starting a new career from scratch. Someone who was going through it themselves and knew a little bit of where she came from. “We should catch up, if you have time?”

“Absolutely. I’m going to be around the market for a while, so…if you’re free when you’re done here…give me a shout.”

She grabbed a business card from the table. “Text me so I’ll have your number.”

He pulled out his phone and did just that, then lifted his gaze again. “It was really good seeing you.” 

It felt like he was studying her face, and something warm and unfamiliar softened in her chest. “Same.”

***

After strolling around the downtown market, Adam found a table on a patio a block north of the market, with an oversized umbrella to protect him from the scorching hot summer sun.

He’d been living in the city for a year. A year of living on ramen and frozen veg, of sharing an apartment with three other college students, most of whom were almost a decade younger than him.

For the first time in his life, Adam had felt like the old man, and he’d loved that part of the experience. The rest had left a lot to be desired. Every weekend he tried to get away from school and the basic, cramped apartment. 

He was looking forward to moving home again.

Being away was not for him. This wasn’t the first time he’d test that theory, either. He’d done a tour in Afghanistan with the army, with a full year of training on a base in Petawawa before he deployed.

Toronto was better than Pet, that was for sure.

Adam’s relatively short career in the army had been generally miserable, but there were a few bright spots. Serving under the brief command of Captain Petersen had been one of those highlights. 

The last time he’d seen her, they’d both been in uniform, on a base six hours away.

Now she was a baker.

A student, starting over, just like me. 

His phone lit up. Speak of the devil.

Isla: Hey, are you still around?
Adam: I sure am. Just sat down at a patio.
Isla: I’m nearly done here. A big group came through and I sold out! So I’m free.
Adam: Can I buy you a drink?

He texted her the address.

Under the table, his leg bounced. He shoved his heel into the ground to make it stop. It had been a while since he’d talked to anyone from his days in the army, other than his friend Stevie, who would never bring it up—his ghosts being worse than Adam’s by a country mile. And Isla wasn’t just another buddy. Her leadership had helped him through a miserable, scary time overseas. He didn’t feel like that same man at all. He’d grown and matured, and was making different choices now. Following his own dreams instead of that of his brothers. But that didn’t mean he didn’t still have echoes from the past that affected him to this day, and Isla was one of the few people who knew that about him.

While he waited for her, Adam texted Stevie and told him about bumping into the captain, then he dove into the group chat his brothers were having around visiting the city for Adam’s graduation. 

Seth: What’s the plan for Adam’s graduation ceremony? I can fly south and could collect folks on the way, shorten the trip? Let’s coordinate.
Adam: Countdown is ON.
Josh: We can’t wait. I’m coming down early to party. 
Will: Seth, can you pick me up? Unlike Josh, I have a full-time job with responsibilities. 
Josh: Hey, I’m an entrepreneur with a million followers on TikTok.
Will: As I was saying…
Adam: Owen, what’s your plan? 
Seth: Newlyweds don’t answer text messages this early on a weekend. We should all be so lucky.
Owen: My wife is still sleeping, thank you very much. I was making her coffee. I think we’ll drive down, though. Wouldn’t miss it.
Adam: Cool. Hey, do you remember Captain Petersen? We’re going to meet up for drinks.
Owen: I’m not sure if I know Petersen.
Adam: You’ve met her. Tall blonde. She was my boss on tour, worked in Meaford for a while.
Will: Rings a bell.
Adam: She’s given up the army life and is a baker now.
Josh: Is she hot?
Adam: Shut up.
Seth: Shut up.
Will: I was going to say, but they beat me to it.
Owen: I’m going to go wake up my wife now. We have a farmer’s market to get to. 
Josh: Words I never thought I’d hear you say.
Adam: I was just at a farmer’s market!
Josh: What is happening to this family? What happened to our core value of being committed bachelors?
Will: I can’t tell if he’s being serious. Anyone?
Seth: Sorry, I can’t hear you guys over the roar of the farmer’s market I just arrived at.
Josh: He’s joking, right?
Will: We’re texting, you idiot. Yes, he’s joking. But I have to go, too. Farmer’s market single mingle starts in ten minutes.

Adam could have kept ripping on Josh for quite a while, but he didn’t like the way his brother had asked if Isla was hot, so he put his phone away just in case Josh looped back to that. He didn’t want anything to ruin the good mood he was in right now. It was silly, getting this excited about meeting up with a friend. On the other hand, his whole life for a year had been nothing but school. A real connection, something more than trying to keep in touch with a few people through the miracle of technology, was a gift at this point.

He liked his classmates well enough, but they weren’t close. A half-generation divided them. They all liked to party, but Adam was growing out of that—and suddenly. 

Deep down, he just wanted to go home, so much that he was secretly counting down the days. 

He’d never understood why he disliked being away from home so much—his demons were almost all in Pine Harbour, and it was a place that sometimes made him feel very small. But this time, he was heading back to a real career. His job offer had been confirmed the week before; he was going to be the newest member of the Pine Harbour Fire Department. Which would come with its own set of complications, in the form of over-protective older brothers worried about him stepping down the same career path their late father followed.

Adam wasn’t worried about that, though. He was going into this eyes wide open about the health risks, and knew how to protect himself, both physically and mentally.

“You’re deep in thought,” a lovely, laughing voice said, dragging him back to the present.

He shook his head and stood up. Isla gave him another hug. The blue apron was gone, but the faint scent of sugar remained. “Good job on selling out of your food today.”

“Thanks.” She slid onto the chair across from him and flashed him a smile. She’d put lip gloss on, something pink, and it was distracting in a good and unexpected way. “You weren’t waiting long?”

“Nope. Got caught up on messages. I texted Stevie, told him I bumped into you. Then I had to deal with some logistical stuff with my brothers around my graduation. We have a group chat that gets out of control sometimes.” His lips twitched. “Do you remember Owen? The oldest?”

She laughed, and her lip gloss glittered in the sun. “Vaguely, yep. Bossy and overprotective?”

Adam told himself to stop noticing her mouth. It was hard, though. Captain Petersen had gone and transformed into a very pretty woman. Of course, she’d always been beautiful, but it used to be in an off-limits, she-could-charge-him kind of way. Now she made cookies and they were both civilians. “That’s him. But actually, he’s a bit of a work in progress. He got married. She’s good for him.”

Isla nodded politely. “That’s lovely.”

But she said it in a way that said she thought otherwise. Adam frowned. 

“I’m sorry, that was rude of me. I’m a bit…jaded. How long has it been since we saw each other last?”

“Maybe four years?”

“Yeah.” She cleared her throat. “Long enough for me to get married and divorced.”

“Holy shit.” Adam blinked in surprise. “I missed hearing about that through the grapevine.”

Isla shook her head. “It’s okay. I’m glad to hear that it wasn’t gossip fodder, to be honest. It was a bad idea from the start. My ex was always anti-PDA, including online. Turned out, that’s because he had a couple of things going on the side, among other…problems.”

A jolt of anger shot through Adam at the injustice of that. Why get married if you weren’t all in? “I’m sorry.”

She shrugged it off. “I’ve done my turn in therapy. I know it wasn’t about me, and I’m focused on living my best life now. I won’t make that mistake again, don’t worry.”

He was relieved that she hadn’t let that asshole get the better of her. He leaned in and braced his forearms on the table, feeling vaguely guilty for thinking too much about her mouth and not enough about what had been going on in her life. “Good. And you look happy now.”

“Oh good, that means the stress is all on the inside.” She winked. “No, I’m kidding. Mostly.”

He could relate to that, and he told her as much. “I know the feeling. Some days are better than others, and some scrape along barely better than survival mode.”

She tilted her head to the side, her brows pulling together. “Yeah?”

Adam shrugged. Nodded. Then laughed. “Yeah.”

Isla sighed. “Sometimes I think I should have stuck it out with the army, you know?”

“I thought you would have for sure. Woulda bet money you were a lifer.”

“That was the plan.” She shrugged. “But plans change.”

Adam wondered if her ex was in the military. It would track for some of the asshole behaviour he’d seen, but people were dysfunctional all over the place. And before he could ask, while he was still mulling over if he should ask, the waiter returned to take Isla’s drink order. He had menus in his hand, too. “Do we want food?”

Isla gave him an uncertain look. “Do you have time for lunch?”

“For you, I have all day.” And he meant it, too. His plan when he’d come downtown was to do some shopping, because it was one of his last weekends living in the city. It was, in hindsight, a lonely, boring way to spend the day, especially when the alternative was an afternoon on a patio, catching up with an old friend.

There was something else, though. A tiny, whispering thought that if he hadn’t headed to the market to get a coffee first, if that hadn’t been the only parking garage that had spots big enough for his truck, he might not have seen Isla’s bake stand at all. Could have left the city behind and gone back to Pine Harbour without knowing his former commander was out there doing something similar to what Adam was doing—starting life over again in a new career.

***

They took their time eating lunch, and while they didn’t order any more drinks—both of them switching to lemonade with their meal—Isla still found herself pleasantly buzzed in a way as they lingered over the last few bites. The conversation had gone in every different direction, from funny to serious and back again, and it felt so effortless after more than a year of feeling very alone in this world. 

“Funny that we both went back to school this year, eh?” Adam paused as their plates were cleared away, then nodded that they’d like to see the dessert menu. “How did you find it?”

“A necessary evil.”

“Same!” He chuckled. “I worried I was being ungrateful.”

“Not at all. It was so hard to start over as a trainee who really didn’t know what she was doing,” she confessed. “The most humbling thing I’ve ever done.”

He couldn’t keep the shock off his face.

She waved her hands. “I know, after Afghanistan, that probably sounds awful.”

“Not at all,” he said, wiping the corner of his mouth with a napkin, and shoving his empty plate away. “But I worry about who the hell is teaching pastry chefs if it’s that traumatic.”

“My own stubbornness might have been a part of it.” She shuddered. “I forced myself to be the best, even at things I wasn’t naturally good at.”

“Like what?”

“My knife skills aren’t that great.”

“You can’t do the…” Adam mimed a perfect rapid chop, his fingers curling precisely.

She shook her head. “I like to grab a cleaver and just get it done. Whack.”

They both burst out laughing as someone at the next table obviously caught the wrong part of that conversation.

“It’s not that hard, it’s just muscle memory and practice. I just…” She leaned in conspiratorially. “I don’t care, you know? And it turns out, that’s actually pretty important for me.”

“Life is too short for perfection?”

Exactly. And she’d wasted four years on a lying narcissist.

“So can you run a pop-up bake sale with only so-so knife skills that are probably secretly spectacular?” His eyes danced, and she didn’t miss how he turned the tease into an unexpected compliment.

A stark contrast to how she’d minimized her own abilities. “They’re secretly not unspectacular,” she admitted. “And I hope so. It’s an uphill climb to get the business going, but once I have all the pieces in play, I think it has a pretty profitable business plan.”

They were still talking when the bill arrived. Adam grabbed it before she could stop him. She pulled out her wallet anyway, but he shook his head. “This is my treat.”

“Thank you. This was really nice.” That wasn’t the right word at all. It had been so much more than nice. There was something about Adam that set her at ease now, and in a way it felt like a full-circle turn on their friendship in the army. He’d leaned on her experience then; it had been her fourth tour, and his first. But there had always been a goodness to him, and she wasn’t surprised he’d turned into this thoughtful, caring man now. Even when he’d been frightened and unsure, he’d had his buddies’ backs. As soon as she saw him this morning, all those memories had flooded back.

And then over lunch, she’d discovered a whole new Adam Kincaid. A man on a mission. Unlike her new career, which was fragile and precarious—literally and figuratively, depending on what she was doing with sugar—he had found something deeply meaningful and stable. She was impressed, and found herself wanting to know even more. That aching curiosity inside her, that clawing feeling like she should reach across the table and touch him again and again, was probably more about herself than him. But she couldn’t just say goodbye. “When do you move home?”

“End of the month.”

“Do you have exams next? What’s your schedule like?” She paused, not wanting to overstep, but fuck it. She might never see him again if she didn’t say something. “Do you want to catch up again?”

“I’m pretty busy during the week.” He hesitated, too, and she wondered if he’d blow her off. “But I’m free next weekend.”

“Me, too.” She would have cancelled any plans even if she had them, which she didn’t. 

He grinned. “Then it’s a date.”

Want to keep reading? Pre-order Fierce at Heart at Apple Books, Kobo, Barnes & Noble, Google Play, and Amazon.

There are two places I currently list books that I recommend: my BookBub profile (a good page to follow if you read primarily in ebooks) and my Bookshop.org page (excellent for directly ordering paperback copies from indie bookstores in the US and the UK).

The top books I find myself recommending lately? Ice Blue by Emma Jameson, which is a modern day Scotland Yard police procedural wrapped around a May-December opposites attract slow burn romance; House Rules by Ruby Lang, a perfect second chance romance between two people who once loved each other, but it wasn’t the right time and they couldn’t get themselves together enough to talk through their problems; and Duke of my Heart by Kelly Bowen, a historical romance take on Scandal meets Remington Steele. Links to all three are on both of my recommendation pages!

I’ve blogged before about important anniversaries. June 15 is the annual marker of when I hit publish for the first time. May 1 is the day I became a full-time writer.

But I’ve never written out the full story before, and maybe some random Sunday in October is the time to do that, rather than actually on one of those anniversaries. Because today, the day after I’ve found a new wave of readers via a BookBub deal, on a book in a series I started because of that fateful May 1st conversation, I’m feeling incredibly grateful.

It was the first day of May. First day of a new fiscal year at the university I worked at, and the last day—apparently—of my job.

“You’re fired,” is never something anyone wants to hear, but when it happens eighteen hours after you hit the New York Times bestselling list for the first time, and there’s a piece of paper on the desk in front of you with a decent severance package offer on it…

I only had one question. Can I write if I accept this deal?

This blog post is the inside story of how I became a full-time writer way before I was truly ready!

But first we need to back up eighteen hours.

Actually, zoom back four months before that, to when Cora Seton and I started talking about organizing a Navy SEAL romance boxed set. Three months before that day, we had a group of authors assembled and we all started writing something special for the set. Two months before that day I broke down in tears because my job was not what had been advertised, not a good match for my strengths, and I hadn’t had any luck finding something else.

The stress from the day job made writing my first Navy SEAL novella (Fall Out) so hard. Anne Marsh and Kimberley Troutte carried me through it with emails of encouragement and the most supportive beta reading notes ever.

One week before that fateful opportunity, SEALs of Summer was released and sales soared.

To this day, I don’t know if Human Resources knew I was writing romance books as well. I didn’t tell them. Until that week, I only had four other books out, the first four stories in my Wardham series, and they’d found me some amazing readers, but I wasn’t anywhere close to hitting any bestseller lists.

Eighteen hours before I was packaged out of a job that had failed to ever really exist as it had been intended, getting rid of that line item for the new year’s budget, the SEALs of Summer collection hit #6 on the New York Times ebook best-seller list.

(The screenshot says May 11, but this list was distributed in .pdf form via email on the evening of April 30, pre-publication, based on sales from the previous week)

The New York Times doesn’t maintain this list anymore, and looking at it feels like a portal into another time. So much has changed in the last six years.

But I will never forget going into work the next morning, knowing I had a meeting with HR on my calendar that probably wasn’t going to go well, and also knowing at the same time that this had just happened.

I floated into the office.

I still cried when I was handed the package offer. I loved my time at the university, and was bitterly disappointed my final role hadn’t turned out the way I wanted it to. The role I’d been in before that one, for five years, had been a dream job, but I’d outgrown it.

Little did I know, I would outgrow the next one in the most unexpected way.

That very same day, I dragged my best friend to Best Buy and bought my first MacBook Air. “I’m a full-time writer now,” I told her with false bravado. “I’m going to write a million words on this thing.”

Six and a half years later, I’m on my second MacBook Air. Halfway to my second million words. There have been other rocky points along the road, and readers who were around in 2015 and 2017 probably remember the times I went dark for a while.

But there have been so many supernova moments, too, and none of them would have been possible if I hadn’t floated into that office, knowing just what I was capable of as a writer.

Since May 1, 2014, Zoe York has written fifty-something books on two MacBooks. She hit the New York Times again the following year, with SEALs of Summer 2, and has hit the USA Today list thirteen times between her two pen names (she also writes erotic romance as Ainsley Booth).

I wrote the first edition of Love in a Small Town in the summer of 2014. I had been laid off from my job, and this series, Pine Harbour, was my first attempt at writing something as a full-time romance author. My first series designed to be commercial, a balance between what my natural storytelling is and what resonates with the market.

Between then and now, I have written eight more books in this world (seven more in this series, and the first book in a spin-off series, The Kincaids of Pine Harbour). 

In 2015, I started working with a new editor, Kristi Yanta, and from the third book (Love on a Spring Morning), Kristi has given me invaluable revision notes on the entire series.

Which brings us back to this first book…I mean, I love Rafe and Olivia. They appear all the way through the series. But this was only the fourth novel I had ever written. It was rushed in places, and some of the sentence-level writing no longer matched what I write now.

So I asked Kristi to go back and read the first book in the series. A year after she did that for me, I’m so proud to introduce you to the second edition of this book. 

This version has 681 line-level little tweaks. Three brand new chapters and six expanded scenes.

Some people have asked why I couldn’t just update the book file on the retailers: this is an Amazon rule, not a Zoe devious plan, I promise. Amazon is hesitant to update files in general, only doing it if there has been an error corrected. (I did think, for a hot second, about pretending that three chapters were “missing”, but they might read this blog and then that would be awkward)

And if a file is more than 10% different from the previous one, they won’t allow it to be updated. I went back and forth with them to be sure that a second edition was the only option. More details on that below in the FAQ.

On a personal note, it’s a very strange thing, trying to revise a book one wrote a lifetime ago. A year after I wrote this book, my husband and I separated for six months. It was the beginning of a very strange, hard, and wonderful journey for us to find each other again. Life and art, forever entangled.

If you read this book in the first edition, I hope you find joy in the new words. If you are new to this series, welcome to Pine Harbour. I hope you stay a while.

~ Zoe

Frequently Asked Questions about the second edition

Q: Do I need to read this again? Does anything change?
A: The short answer is no. The story arc is almost exactly the same, and a majority of the scenes are relatively unchanged, although there are lot of sentence-level tweaks to tighten it. It runs into the next book in exactly the same way it did before.

Q: So what is different in this book?
A: I made these changes so new-to-the-series readers would have a reading experience in book one that matches latter reading experiences in terms of voice and depth of scene. What’s different? Some scenes are longer. One scene, the Haunted Hay Ride, was split into two separate events to give the characters more time to progress through their feelings. And there are three new chapters as well, showing scenes that were previously rushed over in a summary line.

Q: Are the other books going to be re-released?
A: No. I’m going to re-cover them to match, and at the same time update the interior files with minor corrections, but nothing that will trigger the need for a second edition like this revision did.

Q: I like the old covers!
A: That’s not a question.

Q: Can I still get the old covers?
A: Yes! Those books still exist in paperback, and will always exist in paperback. In ebook, the cover updates to whatever is most current, but if you want to build a keeper set of the covers, paperback is your best option. (As I release each new cover, a new paperback edition will be released, and I’ll update my book pages with both links)

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Below is the second chapter of Reckless at Heart! If you missed chapter one, you can click here to read it first.

Chapter Two

Kerry Humphrey had been looking forward to this afternoon for a solid week. She was on her way to Pine Harbour to see a new clinic space. She slowed down as her GPS warned her that the turn off the highway was coming up on the left. In the two years she’d been working in Bruce County as a midwife, she’d driven up and down the north-south highway along the Bruce Peninsula many times. She’d even turned right at the gas station ahead and gone into Lion’s Head a few times. But somehow she’d never needed to go to Pine Harbour.

But if all went well in the next hour, it would be her new place of employment.

Technically, the Pine Harbour clinic would be a satellite office of their practice in Walkerton, an hour south. That was where one of the two hospitals they delivered at was located, and years ago it had made sense as a base of operations. 

In the winter, though, the distance made those drives unnecessarily precarious for clients. So when her midwifery partner Jenna Foster, who lived in Pine Harbour, saw what she described as “the perfect space” come available for rent, Kerry had thrown her support in for the idea.

Now it was a matter of seeing just how perfect it might be.

The first thing she saw as she drove into Pine Harbour was a diner nestled on the edge of the forest, a sprawling roadside restaurant surrounded by a giant gravel parking lot full of pickup trucks. 

Mac’s Diner read the faded sign.

The next block had a row of century-old homes, all in various stages of needing some upkeep. After the next stop sign—which was right next to a street sign that clearly indicated she was on Main Street, should there have been any doubt—the commercial centre of the town started. And also ended, because it was only two blocks long.

But they were two busy blocks, and she couldn’t find a parking spot at first. She kept going, to the end of the street where a hill ran down to what was obviously the namesake of the town—a glistening harbour. At the moment it was mighty chilly looking, with crashing white-capped waves and chunks of ice along the shore, but she could imagine as quite beautiful in the summer.

Doubling back, she finally found a parking spot in front of the library. Across the street, Jenna waited on the sidewalk, bundled up in a parka that was bulky enough on the front that Kerry knew she had a sleeping baby on her chest under the coat. Jenna had recently returned to their midwifery practice after her own maternity leave. She was talking animatedly with two people, a woman holding a clipboard who she introduced as the town’s only realtor, Catie Berton, and an older man.

“I’m the landlord,” he said with a kind smile. “But Catie’s agreed to manage some of my rental agreements as I ease into retirement.”

At first glance, the storefront was unimpressive. Dark, dated, and very empty, probably for a long time. But Catie had a good pitch, and it started even before she unlocked the door and turned on the lights.

She handed over the card of a local contractor who had done other work for the landlord, and promised that everything could be changed. “Whatever you see when you squint, whatever you imagine as we walk through, Jake can make that possible.”

“We have pretty vivid imaginations,” Jenna said. “But we know Jake is up to it.”

Kerry’s vivid imagination was usually limited to filthy fantasies. But she was open, and once they were inside, Jenna’s enthusiasm was infectious. And Jake was Jenna’s brother-in-law. If she had faith he could transform the space, Kerry believed her.

“This is my favourite part—Oh, no, imagine this—and over there!” Jenna led Kerry through, talking in half sentences about exam rooms, where a washroom could go with enough room for a scale and the sterile pee collection.

It turned out the squinting thing really did work.

“It’s perfect.” Kerry did a slow turn. “What are the parking options? I had to drive down the block to find a spot.”

“There are four dedicated spots out back, let me show you.” The landlord pointed the way. Kerry followed him, leaving Jenna—who now had a fussy awake baby to feed—with Catie.

The landlord opened the back door, and they stepped outside. The unexpectedly large parking lot behind the buildings had seen better days, but would meet their needs for sure. “One of these spots is for the apartment upstairs, but that tenant just gave me her notice, so it’ll be a while before I rent it out again.”

“There’s an apartment upstairs?” The wheels in Kerry’s head started turning. That would be insanely convenient. “How much is the rent for that?”

The amount he listed off was half the cost of her apartment in Walkerton.

“You’re kidding.”

“It’s a small space,” the landlord said. “Do you want to see it?”

Yes, yes she did. “Can you wait a few minutes? Let me go back and finish up talking about the clinic space with Jenna, because I think she wants to head out.”

“Take your time. I’ll go up and make sure now is an okay time to view it.”

Back inside, she found Jenna saying goodbye to Catie. “I have to head out,” her partner said. “I got paged. Dina Suarez is having contractions and on the way to the hospital. So I’m going to finish nursing James, then drop him at home with Sean.”

“I’ll follow you out to your car,” Kerry said.

Jenna waited until they were alone on Main Street. “What’s going on?”

Kerry took a deep breath. “What do you think about me moving to Pine Harbour?”

“Just like that?”

“Maybe?” Kerry laughed. “I don’t know. Maybe. Yes. In for a penny, in for a pound, am I right?” She bit her lower lip. “It makes sense. We could operate this clinic autonomously. There’s enough work, and it would open up an office space in Walkerton for another new midwife to join there. That’s good all around, and would help us out for covering vacation time, providing back up…”

Jenna nodded as she trailed off. “Yeah, no, I get it. It’s a great plan, and I can see the excitement all over your face. I want to make sure this is a good decision for you.”

“I’m driving up and down the peninsula anyway, I might as well shift myself here and save some money while I’m at it.”

“Are you doing it because it’ll be easier for work? Or do you actually want to live in my little town of six hundred people, where the only coffee shop only serves actual coffee? No lattes, no cold brew, no shots of espresso.”

“With the money I’m saving, I’ll buy a fancy instant espresso machine for the clinic.”

“It’s not just coffee. Pine Harbour is an entirely different pace of life,” Jenna warned.

“Maybe I’m ready for that.” She’d been doing a lot of thinking about what she wanted in life. This could a sign.

“Long way to go for dancing on Friday nights.”

“Maybe I’ll trade that for…” She trailed off, her breath puffing in the cold air between them. Jenna had to get going, too. “Help me out here. What are the best parts of Pine Harbour?”

“The people,” Jenna said quickly. Then she laughed. “But if you’re looking for fun, we have that too. Bonfire parties are popular in the summer.”

“That’s a good start.”

“And there’s a pub over in Lion’s Head.”

“Even better.”

“They’re pretty serious about their outdoor life here. The trails are great.”

Kerry liked the sound of that. “I run sometimes. More if I’m being chased.”

Jenna snapped her fingers. “There’s a women’s rec league. Soccer in the summer, ball hockey in the winter. Lots of chasing—or so I’ve heard. Sean has done some clinics with them.”

Jenna’s husband had once been an elite extreme distance runner—before being injured in the line of duty. Now he was a world-renowned coach, and people flew in to train with him. Kerry thought it was pretty amazing he also made time for the regular athletes in his home town, although the thought of being put through running drills by him was daunting.

One thing at a time. A pub sounded great. “Don’t worry. I’m pretty good at making friends. In fact, I’m going to take myself out for a celebratory drink after we sign the lease papers. What’s the name of that pub?”

Jenna grinned. “The Green Hedgehog. One day when I don’t have a patient to meet at the hospital or a baby to nurse back to sleep, I’ll take you there.”

Kerry gave her partner a quick hug. “Sounds like a plan. I’ll go finish up with Catie. Keep me updated on Dina’s progress!”

Back inside, Kerry told Catie about her conversation with the landlord. The real estate agent locked up the front of the store, and together they climbed the stairs to the second floor. Kerry braced herself to not like the apartment, because when the landlord said it was small, that probably meant the apartment would be dark, crowded, and only worth the small amount of rent being asked.

That was the furthest thing from reality, though. Yes, it was tiny. One small bedroom, a living room with a kitchenette nook in the corner, and a bathroom that could only be described as minimalist and spare. But at the far end of the living room, two huge windows overlooked Main Street, flooding the space with natural light, even in the late winter afternoon gloom, and on the back wall there were wide windows set high in the exposed brick. Also on that wall was a giant cast iron clock.

“Oh, wow,” she whispered.

“The clock doesn’t work,” the landlord said. “But it can’t be removed.”

Kerry didn’t care if it didn’t work. It would be right twice a day, and delightfully wrong the rest of the time. It fed all of her secret Pinterest aesthetics at a fraction of her housing budget. She was so in. “Where do I sign?”

After following Catie back to her office—which was also her hair salon, apparently, because being Pine Harbour’s only real estate agent was more of a part-time gig—Kerry signed the paperwork for both leases. 

Then she drove across the peninsula to buy herself a drink at the nearest pub.

The Green Hedgehog was a rambling building. Once a turn of the last century house, it had a significant addition that stretched over an entire block.

Inside, the foyer was decorated for the holidays.

A waitress passed by as Kerry paused at the wait to be seated sign. “Take a seat anywhere, hun,” she called out.

There was an empty seat at the end of the bar that had her name on it, right next to a coat hook on a pillar. She took her coat off and hung it up, then hopped up on to the seat and leaned forward, resting her elbows on the bar top.

The bartender on tonight was a young white woman, pale and gothic, with a choppy hair cut, buzzed underneath. “Hey,” she said, sliding a coaster in front of Kerry. “What can I get you?”

“Do you have anything special for Christmas?”

The bartender pointed to a standup sign further down the bar. “Mulled wine?”

“Sold, I’ll take a mug of that.”

When she set it front of Kerry a minute later, the bartender stuck around to be chatty. “Haven’t seen you in here before. Are you visiting for the holidays?”

Kerry shook her head. “I’m moving here next month. Just signed a lease on an apartment.”

“Here in town?”

“Across the highway, over in Pine Harbour. But I heard this was the closest place to get a drink, so…here I am.”

“Welcome. I’m Lore. As in, my parents named me Lauren.”

“Kerry.” She lifted her mug. “Cheers.”

“Who sent you our way?”

“Do you know Jenna Foster?”

Lore shook her head.

Kerry shrugged. “Well, that’s who.”

Lore laughed. “She’s got good taste. What else did she recommend?”

“Bonfires, and the women’s soccer league,” Kerry said dryly.

“Hey! I’m on the soccer team.” Lore jumped in the air. “Hey! Bailey!”

Kerry hadn’t seen that coming. Laughing, she pivoted on her stool just in time to see a south Asian woman bounce up and slide onto the stool next to her. 

“Did I hear someone mention the soccer league?” She stuck her hand out. “I’m Bailey Patel. Nice to meet you. Do you play?”

“I…” Kerry shrugged. “I run. Slowly. And my co-worker suggested soccer as an alternative to…” She trailed off, not wanting to insult the locals. “Other things.”

Bailey and Lore didn’t seem offended, though. “Fun things? We get it. But your co-worker is right. Pretty much the soccer team is where it’s at for those of us in our twenties, caught between the two generations of people who have bonfire parties.”

“Uh…” Kerry took a long swallow of her mulled wine. “I might be in the next bracket up, age-wise.”

“We won’t tell anyone,” Bailey whispered. “Not if you’re willing to play defence.”

Kerry had her first Pine Harbour social calendar booking. The women filled her in on the soccer team’s website, which listed the season dates. “But we also practice in an ad hoc way before the season begins. Next year we might even rent space over the winter.”

Kerry had just finished taking down their contact information when there was a decent-sized thud as the front door of the bar swung open and bounced against the doorstop. In walked a tall monster of a man, wearing a dark parka, a snow-covered toque, and a grim scowl.

He lifted a hand at Lore. She wordlessly acknowledged him right back as he kept going past the bar and through an archway into a back room. Kerry didn’t stare—she had better self-control than that—but she couldn’t stop herself from surreptitiously tracking him until he disappeared. She had a thing for big guys, always had. There was something magnetic about the way this one stalked right past her, his strides powerful, his presence commanding. The bartender immediately grabbed a glass from beneath the counter and poured a perfect pint of stout. She looked around, maybe for the waitress, before ducking out from behind the bar and disappearing after the man herself.

Beside Kerry, Bailey sighed. Whatever caused Lore to hustle after the man was none of Kerry’s business, and she was quite good at minding her p’s and q’s. Bailey, on the other hand, clearly wanted to talk. “That’s Owen Kincaid,” she whispered. “Lore was in the army reserve for a couple of years, and he was her platoon sergeant.”

The military was a big part of life around here. Kerry had clients from the training base around the bay. “Nice that she read his mind.”

“Mmm.” Bailey nodded toward the back room. “They have some pool tables back there. Do you want to play a game?”

On the one hand, Kerry liked the two younger women and was looking forward to getting into a sports league. But she wasn’t interested in stalking a man she didn’t know around a bar she’d never been to before, no matter how big and burly and shiver-inducing he might be. She wiggled her mug of wine. “I have to drive home, so this is it for me. Can I have a rain-check for another time?”

“Sure.” Bailey was craning her neck now. “I might…just…you know…”

No skin off Kerry’s nose. “Go. I’ll wait here for Lore and then settle up.”

As soon as she said that, the bartender returned. She caught sight of Bailey and pointed to the bar stool. “Stay!”

“What?”

“You were going to perv on Owen, and you know he’s off-limits. Becca would kill you.”

Bailey laughed. “If I’m going to crush on any of the Kincaid brothers, it won’t be the grumpy old man, don’t worry.”

The guy who stalked by was hardly old. He couldn’t be much older than Kerry, but not her circus, not her monkeys. This conversation was probably her cue to not overstay her welcome. She pulled a few bills out of her wallet and set them on the bar. “I’m going to head out now,” she said. “But I’ll be back in a few weeks. And I’m going to sign up for the soccer league as soon as I get home.”

Bailey punched her fist in the air. “Yessss!”

Lore laughed. “Welcome to the peninsula, Kerry. It’s never boring here.”

Pre-order Kerry and Owen’s book today! It’s available from Apple Books, Kobo, Google Play, Nook, and Amazon.

What follows is chapter one from Reckless at Heart, the first book in a new Pine Harbour series. It may contain typos and errors that will be corrected before publication.

Reckless at Heart will release June 2, 2020.

“Daddy, I’m pregnant.”

Owen Kincaid felt the three words more than he heard them. His daughter Becca gave him a beseeching look from across the living room. He felt the weight of them, the immediate and heavy truth that this could—would—change everything. He knew in the back of his mind that he was supposed to say something supportive, something understanding. Hell, he understood all right. 

He’d been there, done that, got the too-young parent t-shirt himself, hadn’t he?

Eighteen years ago, in fact.

The roar in his ears made it hard to think, hard to figure out how to respond in any way that wasn’t scary—or scared, if Owen was being honest. He’d been sprawled out on the couch, waking up after a midday nap before an evening shift tonight, when Becca came home ten minutes earlier. His cue to make some food and be a good dad. She’d disappeared into her room, then reappeared, finding him in the kitchen. “Can we talk?” she’d asked, her voice tight.

Then she’d turned on her heel, making him follow her into the living room of his small, three-bedroom bungalow. He’d been prepared for a confession about her car. A fender bender. Or ready to go to battle if she’d been let go from her job at the golf course, where she worked part time on the banquet staff. He could have commiserated if something had happened at school.

But this?

She was pregnant?

God. Fucking. Damn. She was eighteen years old. A baby herself. His baby.

She stood up from her seat across from him—carefully, warily—and moved closer. His fist clenched hard at his thigh, and she covered his white knuckles with her own fingers. She was shaking.

No. 

“Dad, it’s going to be okay.”

That was his line. That’s what he was supposed to say. But he couldn’t, so he opened his arms instead, and she fell against him.

He’d known she was growing up. He couldn’t keep her a kid forever. He thought he had done his best, but he’d failed. “Are you okay?” He finally said, his voice full of gravel and regret and undisguised anger, too. There was no hiding that, so he didn’t try.

And she picked up on it, too, because she didn’t answer his question.

“Don’t be mad,” she whispered.

“Not at you, baby.” He closed his eyes and clenched his jaw, inhaling roughly before rubbing her back. “Did you…do you know…Does the fa—” Nope. That was a word that wasn’t crawling out of his throat right now. Father. Some little punk-ass kid knocked up his daughter.

You were that punk-ass kid nineteen years ago.

But history wasn’t supposed to repeat itself like this. He’d done his best, they had done their best, to give Becca everything despite how young they were when she arrived. Her mother may not have been his soul mate, but they were decent co-parents. They’d just celebrated Becca’s birthday four months ago.

Him, his ex-wife, her husband, and Becca’s shithead on-again, off-again junior hockey player boyfriend who dumped her a week later.

And the anger roared back to life. “Becca, tell me it wasn’t Hayden.”

“Daddy, don’t be mad at us.”

Us. There would be no us with Hayden. The kid had his eyes firmly locked on the NHL, and nothing—no one—would get in his way. Not a girlfriend. He’d made that clear to Becca every time they broke up. So there was no chance he’d prioritize a child. Owen could kill him. With his bare hands, and he’d enjoy every second of the murder. 

“I’m sorry,” he said gruffly. “I’m not mad.”

“You are.” She’d always been able to see right through him like that. 

He shuddered and kissed the top of her head. “I was thinking you’d banged up the car, that’s all.”

“No.” Another small sound.

He forced himself through a calming breath. “Well, that’s good. Have you told your mom yet?”

“She’s not home. I stopped there first on my way back from the store.”

He froze. “Did you just find out?”

She nodded, a tiny little jerk of her head, and his heart cracked open. She’d taken a test and he was the first person she told. Because her mom wasn’t home, and if she had been, Becca would have done it there. But still, he’d been the first one…and he’d reacted like it was the end of the world.

It wasn’t.

The end of his Great Bachelor Plans, maybe. But not the end of the world. And it was the earliest of days. She had time to think and make decisions, and he couldn’t get ahead of himself guessing what would happen.

“Ah, shit. I’m sorry. It is okay. It’s going to be okay.” He squeezed her again, wanting to make it all better, but this was monumental. And she needed Rachel. “One thing at a time. Do you want to call your mom now? She can come here if you want some privacy with her.”

Rachel had three young kids and a loud husband, Hudson, who was a decent guy but he treated Becca like a kid still. That wasn’t going to help in the next while.

“I don’t know. I don’t want to tell her on the phone.” Becca’s voice was tiny now.

“Do you want me to call her? I can ask her to come over.”

“Maybe.”

Owen didn’t know where his phone was. He’d find it in a minute. Had he left it in the kitchen? He’d been fiddling with that damn bachelor life wish list. Shit that didn’t matter nearly as much as his daughter.

Becca was quiet for a long stretch. Then she gave him a tight squeeze before moving back. “Thanks.”

“I love you.” It came out raw, but at least that was honest. 

“This doesn’t have to change anything. I can still move out next summer.” But her voice was small and unsure. She knew he’d been counting down the months until she graduated.

And now he felt like the world’s biggest asshole. Fuck. “Don’t worry about that.”

“Dad—”

“One thing at a time, kiddo.”

Her face crumpled. No, she wasn’t a kid anymore, was she? 

“Look.” He waited. “Look at me.”

She paused, then lifted her head, her eyes watery but fierce. “What?”

“Whatever you need, I’ll be right by your side.”

“I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

“That’s okay. You’ve got some time to think about it.” He swallowed hard. He had an overnight shift to get ready for. “I have to go to work. Are you going to be okay?”

“Yeah.”

“If you want your mom to come over…”

She nodded. “Maybe.”

But by the time he was in his EMT uniform and getting ready to head to the Pine Harbour Emergency Services Building, Becca hadn’t called Rachel, and to Owen’s surprise, she’d decided she didn’t want him to do that just yet, either. “I need more time. I don’t want to tell anyone else.” 

He dragged in a rough, ragged breath. “Okay. This is our secret for now. Deal?”

She nodded solemnly. “Deal.”

Owen hoped that promise wouldn’t come back to kick him in the ass later. But Becca was a grownup now, at least officially. 

Her teen years had sped by in a wild kaleidoscope of parties and growth spurts and the occasional scholastic achievement, but mostly it had felt like a period they had all just barely survived. He’d been looking forward to some breathing room next. To her moving out and finding her passion in life. And in the quiet that would follow, he’d had big plans for himself. Hobbies. Dating, and not just the furtive hook-ups of his past. A real social life that wasn’t dictated by making sure his teenager was safely tucked into bed by her curfew.

That wasn’t going to be a worry tonight, though. Becca was already wearing her her flannel pyjamas and had scrubbed her makeup off.

Still… “I’m just around the corner if you need me. I can be here on my pager if need be.”

She shook her head. “I’m going to watch something and go to bed early.”

“Call me if you can’t sleep.”

“I’m not going to call.”

Owen ignored that. “Call me if you need anything.”

“I need some alone time.” She said it like a confession, and he realized he was crowding her. He’d want the exact same thing in her shoes—had, in fact, locked himself in his bedroom nineteen years earlier so he could stare at the ceiling.

“Got it. I’m going.”

As she disappeared into her room, and he turned on his heel to head to work, a complicated wave of concern and regret flooded his mind. What could they have done differently?

Had he failed her somehow? Had they romanticized what it had been like to be teen parents? Becca was loved, God damn it, but that didn’t mean having her so young hadn’t been brutally hard.

Maybe the pregnancy wouldn’t last. He had a flash of guilt for wishing for a miscarriage, to take the choice out of her hands. More than a flash. That dark thought carried him all the way to work, where he parked out back and let himself in the side entrance.

In an ideal world, he’d make it to his office without running into anyone, and be able to bury himself in work.

It was not an ideal world.

The sound of voices drifted toward him from the kitchen. There were two cooking and eating spaces in the building, a full-fledged kitchen on the ground floor that was mostly used for the weekly training night for the volunteer firefighters, and a break room upstairs with a kitchen and microwave. That was where his paramedics grabbed a bite in between calls. Nobody had time to clean up from a full meal, and God forbid anyone left something behind for Owen to find.

He didn’t strictly speaking have a don’t use the downstairs kitchen rule, but it was understood that the space was only for cooking larger meals for the whole group. Or so he thought.

Laughter broke out. “Catch it!”

Catch what?

“We can’t do this during the day. The EMT supervisor’s a real—”

Owen stepped into the doorway and cleared his throat as he took in the scene. Two firefighters, not volunteers, but guys attached to his station from the main firehouse in Wiarton, were standing on either side of the microwave. One was holding a bag of popcorn. Owen knew his face was thunderous, because yeah, he had a tendency to be a real something when people were messing up his space. “I work evening shifts from time to time as well, you know.”

The kid holding a bag of freshly microwaved popcorn clearly did not know that, because he dropped it, sending greasy kernels skittering all over the floor.

“There’s a microwave upstairs,” Owen growled. 

“Someone else was using it.”

“Patience is a virtue.”

The kid’s face blanched. “We’ll clean this up.”

Owen glanced at the floor. “Soap and water to get the oil off the floor.”

“Yes, sir.”

Nights like this made him second-guess his decision to take the supervisor job when they built this new station. For most of his career he’d been happy to be a paramedic. The shift work had been tricky to work custody around when Becca was little, but when he was off, he was off, and in the summers he’d been able to be home with her for almost half the week. But as college loomed closer and closer for Becca, the promise of more pay—and a more regular schedule—had won out.

Somewhere along the way, he’d lost his sense of humour about things like tossing popcorn.

Owen felt old.

And as he sank into his chair behind his desk, he longed for the days when his daughter’s biggest worry was whether she would get both Barbies she wanted from Santa.

At eleven o’clock, she texted to say good night. He was in the ambulance bay updating the whiteboard on the wall and he stopped as soon as his phone vibrated.

Becca: I’m going to sleep now. Front door is locked.

He grinned. 

Owen: And what about the back door?

Becca: Left that hanging wide open for the monsters to get in.

Owen: Love you.

Becca: Love you too.

The rest of the night passed without incident. He listened to some dispatch calls to make notes for performance review meetings, got ahead on some of his other monthly tasks, and finished his shift by taking inventory on the gear in his own truck.

When he got home, Becca’s bedroom door was still firmly shut.

But she wasn’t asleep.

His phone lit up with a text message as he was thinking about knocking to wake her for school. It was a group message, sent to both him and her mother. Apparently, Becca had decided it was time to tell Rachel.

Becca: Can we have a team meeting after school today? At Dad’s place?

Team meetings are what they’d taken to calling co-parenting discussions when Becca hit the teen years and demanded they include her in any talks that related to her—which was every talk between him and Rachel.

On the screen, dots appeared. Then disappeared, and finally reappear.

Rachel: What time? I need to pick up the little ones at three-thirty.

Becca: Dad’s on nights, so he needs to sleep but he’s usually up by the time I get back. Remember I don’t have a class last period. How about two?

It was such a grown-up reply. Thoughtful, which she wasn’t always, because teenage hormones were something wild, but when she was…man, she was a good kid.

Not. A. Kid.

But he thought of everyone younger than him as a kid, especially his own daughter, and God damn it, he was too tired to fix that right now. He sighed and shook his head, then tapped out a quick reply that it worked for him.

Fifteen minutes later, she found him in the kitchen. She was dressed already, in skin-tight jeans and an oversized sweater, with a full face of makeup on. 

“I made oatmeal,” he said gruffly.

She smiled faintly. “I probably can’t tell you that I need to go, can I?”

“You’ve got five minutes. Eat a real breakfast for me, okay?”

She grabbed a bowl and the glass jar of brown sugar. “Oatmeal, huh?”

“It’s good for you.”

“You haven’t made oatmeal in years.”

“And I’m regretting that right now, so…eat up.” As if more oatmeal would have prevented this turn of events.

She shoved the bowl into his hands. “Only if you eat some, too.”

He didn’t feel like eating, but she’d cornered him with logic. “Fine.”

This had been their dynamic for so long. He did his best, even when it wasn’t enough, but at least it was something. And she showed him how to be a better person, too. 

Oatmeal for dinner. Then some sleep. Then… He wasn’t looking forward to what was coming later that afternoon. Depending on how it went, he might need a drink. Or a game of darts. He could pin his list of bachelor life dreams on the board and aim for each of them one by one.

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