He kept his voice steady. “Because I am tired of running from the only good thing I ever had.”
“That is unfair,” she whispered. “You left. You built a life without us. You cannot just come back and expect a welcome parade.”
“I am not expecting anything. Except maybe a chance.”
She shook her head and looked toward the ruined house. “There is nothing left here for you.”
“Maybe I can rebuild something.”
“You already broke it once,” she replied. “I will not let you break it again.”
They stood in silence, and Wesley thought he heard the slow creak of the old house breathing. The wind shifted, carrying the voices of the girls inside.
Finally, Juniper spoke again. “Opal made lunch. You should stay. Just for the meal. Then you can go.”
He nodded. “Thank you. I would like that.”
Inside, the kitchen smelled like cinnamon and roasted chicken. Opal Moreno turned from the stove, her silver hair piled in a bun with the indifference of a woman who had cooked through a dozen storms. She blinked in surprise, but her voice remained even.
“I figured this day would come.” She wiped her hands on a towel. “Sit. Eat. Do not make me regret setting an extra place.”