Page 26 of Midnight Clear

“Thanks, Dad,” he said. “I appreciate that.”

“Just keeping it real, son,” he said. And then he sighed. “You’re one of the best men I know. I did a good job if I can pat myself on the back a little. But you’re a fixer. It’s what and who you are. You want people to live their best lives. You want communities and families to prosper. And you want your own family to be healthy and safe. It’s why you’ve done what you have with Laurel Valley. You’ve made it a place better for all of us and you should be commended for it.

“But I’m going to tell you a little secret about women. They don’t like being fixed. One of the best pieces of advice I ever got from my dad was to ask your mother if she wanted me to fix the problem or if she wanted me to just listen. I can count on one finger the number of times she said she wanted me to fix the problem.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Hank said. “If I can fix it, why not let me do it?”

“Because women are women and the good Lord made them different than us. And thank God for it because wouldn’t we all be in a mess? Sophie doesn’t want you to fix itforher. She wants you to fix itwithher. And you might deny it, but you can be a steamroller when you have a goal in sight. It’s how you’ve built a successful company. But you won’t build a successful marriage doing things the same way.”

Hank sighed. “Yeah, I guess I let the whole thing get away from me. I want her to have her dreams. I want her to have the bookstore. I want her to have everything I can possibly give her.”

“And that,” Mick said, nodding. “Is what will make a good marriage. When you both want the best for the other. When you both lift the other up. When you both realize that there will be times when you’ve got to carry the load when she’s struggling. And times when she’ll have to carry the load when you are. Marriage is the best gift we’ve ever been given as humans on this earth. Children are a close second. You know how to build a strong foundation. All you have to do is put the work in.”

“You’re a pretty smart guy,” Hank said, smiling sheepishly.

“I would have paid good money to hear that when you were a teenager. Why don’t you go pay Sophie a visit. Bring her back here for Christmas when you’re done apologizing.”

Hank put his empty glass down on the table and got to his feet.

“But maybe before you go you could take a look at the boiler. It’s making a weird sound again.”

“At least I’m useful for something,” Hank said.

“That’s the spirit,” Mick said, his laugh big and booming.

“I guess I can go look at the boiler.” Hank’s smile was devious. “And I won’t mention to Mom about the cigar.”

Mick narrowed his eyes and clamped the cigar between his teeth. “That’s just downright nasty. You’d blackmail your own father.”

“I think extortion is a better word,” Hank said, laughing at the indignant look on his father’s face as he left the office.

As soon as he left the secluded space where his father’s office was located, he was bombarded with a cacophony of sounds. Children laughing and screaming as they chased each other at breakneck speeds through the house, his brothers yelling at a football game, and women’s laughter coming from the kitchen. And then there was him.

Hank always felt a little bit like the odd man out. He was the middle child, thirteen months younger than Aidan and two years older than Colt. His brother Wyatt had been a surprise, born a full five years after Hank and a full seven years after his oldest brother Duncan.

A rather raucous shriek came from somewhere overhead and he heard a crash followed by a herd of footsteps running down the stairs.

“Harrison O’Hara,” his sister-in-law Dylan yelled from the kitchen. Dylan was his brother Aidan’s wife. “That better not have been you and your merry band of cousins. If you made a mess you clean it up.”

There were grumbles and a bunch of, “Yes, ma’ams,” as footsteps could be heard going back up the stairs.

Hank grinned. It was bedlam. Complete bedlam. He loved his family. Really, he did. It’s just that there were so many of them. Everywhere he turned, there was another O’Hara in his path for him to trip over. But what else could he expect. He was the last brother standing. The last one to settle down and start a family.

He wasn’t a complete wastrel. None of his cousins were married either, and the only grandchild Aunt Simone and Uncle Tommy had was Mac. And she’d been born when his cousin Ryder had barely been out of high school.

There were a bunch of manly cheers from the next room as a touchdown was scored, and his youngest brother, Wyatt, skidded out of the family room and ran to the kitchen at top speed, coming out seconds later with a tray of snacks and a bucket of cold drinks. The women were smart enough to know the best place the men could be was out of the kitchen while they were cooking Christmas dinner, so they kept snacks at the ready to shove into waiting arms.

Hank was used to the commotion after all these years, but there was a reason he’d chosen to live in the cabin he’d built, secluded from the rest of the town—and better yet, the rest of the O’Haras.

“Uncle Hank!” his nephew Charlie said, cornering him in the mudroom. He had the wild-eyed look of a kid who’d had too much candy and had been playing video games too long. “Come play Mario Kart. I’m the champion. Ain’t nobody that can beat me.”

“Rain check, kid,” Hank said, tousling the top of his dark head. “I’ve gotta do a job for Grandad.”

Hank pulled on his ski cap and his warm lambskin jacket. His scarf was still damp from the last snowball fight, so he didn’t bother with it. He pulled his gloves from his pockets and slipped them on, hoping the tools he had in his truck would be enough to fix the problem. The hardware store was closed, and he’d have to drive to his shop for parts if they were needed.

“Aww, man,” Charlie said, pouting pitifully. “Who am I supposed to beat now?”

On second thought, maybe a trip to his shop was exactly the escape he needed.

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