“Great. Do I want to know?”

“Probably not, but I’m going to tell you anyway. I’m a good sister like that.”

Elbows on the table, Ash leaned in, holding her coffee mug cradled between her hands as the smirk widened. This same table had sat in their family’s kitchen for three generations. The house had been updated over those years; the table had not. Three generations of cereal bowls, glass rings, and pot roast dinners. Three lifetimes of memories.

Easton had moved to a small house on the far side of the two-hundred-acre Lockett homestead after high school, needing his own space. And their family land certainly had that. Theirs was one of the largest personal properties within the town of Moose Springs, with some of the prettiest views of the surrounding countryside.

Unlike Easton, Ash had never moved out, and he doubted she ever would. Come hell or high water, there was nothing strong enough to make her leave her home. Which meant Easton was stuck drinking her sludge-like coffee in the mornings when he came to check on his family.

Usually a sleepy grunt was all Easton got from his sister or father, but this morning, his twin sister was beaming like the cat that got in the cream.

“Tasha wrote the truth. She says the town’s most skilled outdoorsman sold out and is showcasing our town in a tourism film. A film you also…and here’s where Tasha went for blood. You agreed to be a part of too.”

Sighing audibly this time, Easton reached for his coffee. “It wasn’t like that, Ash.”

“Oh, it gets better. Listen to this.”

Stealing the paper back from him despite his grab to keep it from her, Ash cleared her throat with dramatic exuberance.

“Tasha says, and I quote: ‘Along with hauling them up our hidden gem of a mountain, one of the best for climbing in the nation, Mr. Lockett is risking further commercialization of the oversaturated Moose Springs at a time when residents are still deeply concerned about the luxury condominiums project spearheaded by socialite Lana Montgomery and the Montgomery Group. Rumors of subsequent plans for additional residential buildings adjacent to Moose Springs Resort…blah blah blah…’”

Ash took a long sip of her coffee. “She goes on for a while about how awful Lana is.”

“Again, we like Lana,” Easton felt compelled to remind his sister for the hundredth time.

“I can like her and still acknowledge the evil music that plays every time she enters the room. Appreciating the overthrow of our world by powerful women and leading the resistance to that particular overthrowing of my hometown aren’t mutually exclusive. Oh, here we go.” She lifted the paper higher. “‘With our own residents helping to assist people like Ms. Montgomery and the invading film crew, it is logical to extrapolate that Easton Lockett is personally responsible for the single-handed destruction of Moose Springs, and we all need to attack him with a pitchfork.’”

Leveling a look at her, Easton said, “It does not say that.”

“Okay, maybe not,” she conceded. “Tasha does talk about you though. Local mountaineering legend, which is total overselling, by the way. Yada yada going up Mount Veil. Then some climate change stuff and talking about the climbing season becoming less predictable.”

“She’s not wrong.”

“Tasha also quotes you as not being available for comment.”

“I didn’t know she was calling for that.” Shifting in discomfort beneath his sister’s knowing stare would only make him lose whatever ground he had to stand on.

He’d never successfully gotten anything past Ash in his life, so he didn’t know why he was bothering now.

“Are you and Tasha still a thing?”

“We were never a thing. Just a…”

“Thing.” Ash eyed him knowingly. “The other thing.”

Nope, he was not talking about that. Easton decided on deflection. “How was your date? The guy from Seward.”

“About what you’d expect. Almost everyone in Seward lives in the same apartment building. The vibe over there is too close for my comfort. I’m not sure it’ll last.”

“What was his name?”

With a shrug, she said, “I’ll tell you if it lasts. The article did add in a theory about temperature fluctuations increasing the risk of avalanches.”

Eyeing her at the random comment, this time it was Ash’s turn to shift uncomfortably.

“I’m only mentioning it,” she murmured, voice defensive.

They’d had more than one throwdown over the safety of his choice in occupation. This from a woman who happily flew helicopters in the worst weather imaginable and saw no issues with her own safety.

“I’m keeping my eye out for signs of trouble,” Easton said. “You need to stop worrying about this one.”

When Ash didn’t reply, Easton leaned back in his chair, balancing on the back two legs as he tossed a piece of elk sausage in his mouth. The Locketts lived off the land as much as possible, although Easton had gotten in a bad habit of showing up at the Tourist Trap most days for lunch. If he had a heart attack from the delicious but greasy fare Graham was slinging, it would be Easton’s own fault.

“You break that chair, you’re making me a new one.”

Their father, Joshua Lockett, limped past to the coffeepot. Widowed two years earlier after Easton’s mother finally lost her battle with cancer, Joshua was the remaining parent in their lives. One whose presence registered like the force of nature he’d always been. There was nothing Joshua couldn’t do, build, or fix. When a man made a living from conquering mountains, it was hard to best him.

Joshua had taught Easton and Ash everything they knew about mountaineering, but Ash was happier in her helicopter, and after a bad leg injury, Joshua couldn’t keep the kind of pace required on a professional climb. If he resented a life of helping his daughter load and unload food and supply shipments for deliveries to more remote locations, he never said anything.

Locketts didn’t complain. They got the job done, whatever needed doing.

“No cane today, Dad?” Ash joined their father at the coffeepot. He paused midpour on his own cup, topping off the mug in Ash’s hand before adding what was left to his.

His sister could get away with things Easton never could. Asking their father about his cane was one of those things.

In the privacy of their own home, Joshua would use his cane on bad leg days. When winter came, most days were bad leg days. But in town or in front of others, he refused to let it show. Talking about the cane earned the kind of look that made most men—including Easton—want to disappear into the floor. But when Ash asked, she got a smile from their father.