Chapter 4
Chapter Four
Heavenly Delights Bakery opened at five every morning, the scent of fresh bread and cinnamon rolls wafting through downtown Laurel Valley before most residents had even hit the snooze button.
By six thirty, the cozy establishment with its white Priscilla curtains and farmhouse tables was humming with early risers—resort executives grabbing artisanal espressos before strategy meetings, yoga instructors in designer athleisure fueling up on gluten-free scones, and the occasional vacationing CEO who’d risen with the mountains’ first light to check stock prices before hitting the slopes. Despite the upscale clientele that had transformed this once-sleepy mountain town into a destination for the wealthy, Rose had steadfastly refused to change the bakery’s rustic charm or inflate her prices, making Heavenly Delights that rare Laurel Valley establishment where authenticity wasn’t just a marketing strategy.
And then there were the O’Hara brothers.
They didn’t manage to coordinate their schedules often—between Colt’s medical practice, Hank’s construction business, Duncan’s artistic temperament that rarely acknowledged conventional hours, Aidan’s work at the garage, and Wyatt’s unpredictable assignments as a DEA agent—but when they did, it was tradition. Rose’s back corner booth, the one with the view of Twin Peaks through the beveled-glass window, was unofficially reserved for them.
“All I’m saying,” Aidan insisted, pointing a forkful of pancake at Colt, “is that you could have warned me that Mrs. Ellison was going to corner me about her arthritic hip the minute she saw me in the produce section. I’m a mechanic, not an orthopedist.”
Colt’s shoulders shook with barely contained laughter. “Doctor-patient confidentiality,” he managed between chuckles. “Besides, she’s seventy-eight and thinks all O’Haras are essentially interchangeable.”
“I was holding a pineapple,” Aidan continued, his handsome face twisted in mock horror. “And she starts doing the hip rotations you taught her to do right in the middle of the aisle. What was I supposed to do?”
This sent the table into a fresh round of laughter, even Wyatt managing a genuine smile despite the weight that had settled permanently between his shoulder blades these past months. These moments with his brothers were precious in the storms he’d been navigating—brief opportunities when he could simply be himself without calculation or performance.
“Could be worse,” Duncan offered, stirring a third spoonful of sugar into his coffee. Unlike his brothers who’d all gone for the full breakfast, he’d only ordered coffee and a croissant. “Remember when Old Man Jenkins cornered us at the hardware store to discuss his prostate exam?”
“You mean cornered me?” Hank corrected, reaching across to steal a slice of bacon from Wyatt’s plate. “And I still say you could have come to my rescue instead of pretending to get an urgent call and leaving me there for twenty minutes.”
“Time is the greatest teacher of all,” Duncan intoned solemnly, though his blue eyes danced with mischief.
Wyatt slapped at Hank’s hand as he went for a second bacon strip. “Get your own, son. Some of us worked the night shift.”
Colt rolled his eyes. “You can complain when you’ve worked a twenty-four-hour rotation in the ER. Parking up at the resort and sleeping in your cruiser doesn’t count as working the night shift.”
Wyatt narrowed his eyes, ready to launch into an argument with his older brother, but Duncan recognized the signs and cut them off before they could start.
“What about you, Aidan?” Duncan asked. “How’s single life? Women still tripping all over themselves to ask you out?”
Aidan groaned, running a hand through his expertly tousled hair. “That was one festival, three years ago. Will you ever let me live it down?”
“Seven women in one afternoon,” Hank recounted, holding up seven fingers for emphasis. “Plus that tourist from Seattle who followed him around like a puppy.”
“Must be hard to be so pretty,” Wyatt said, grinning at Aidan. He hated being singled out for his looks.
“I was just being polite,” Aidan said, defending himself. “And I only said yes to one coffee date.”
“Which turned into dinner, which turned into you being mysteriously unavailable for Sunday service and family lunch,” Colt added.
“I told you I took her out on the boat,” Aidan said, his face flushing with embarrassment or anger, it was hard to tell. “She’d never been on the water before.”
“Uh, huh,” Colt said. “Likely story.”
Wyatt chuckled. “Remember that time at the church social when three different women brought dessert specifically for Aidan. Reverend Jim’s face was priceless.”
“The last O’Hara bachelor,” Hank said. “Mom’s starting to worry you’ll never settle down.”
Aidan’s expression shifted to something more genuine beneath the practiced charm. “Maybe I’m waiting for what you all found.” His gaze moved around the table, touching on each of his married brothers. “I may enjoy attention, but I’m not going to settle for anything less than what each of you has.”
“Careful there,” Colt warned. “You’re starting to sound like a real grown-up.”
“A momentary lapse,” Aidan assured them, instantly reverting to his carefree grin. “I’ve got a reputation to maintain.”
Wyatt sat back, content to let the brotherly ribbing flow around him. This easy camaraderie was something he’d taken for granted before—the casual certainty that no matter what happened, these four men would have his back, would understand him without explanation, would never judge him for the hard choices life sometimes demanded.
“Speaking of settling down,” Duncan said, turning to Wyatt, “How’s Raven? She seemed upset at Mac’s party the other night.”
The mention of Raven’s name sent a familiar ache through Wyatt’s chest. He’d left her sleeping this morning, her dark hair spread across the pillow, her face finally peaceful in slumber after another evening of strained silence and careful distance. How many more mornings would he have the privilege of that sight if he couldn’t find a way to bridge the growing chasm between them?
“She’s busy with the boutique,” he said, the partial truth easier than explaining the complexity of their current situation. “She needs more help in there. She can’t do it all.”
“Maybe you should try your hand as shopkeeper,” Duncan said. “You’d look real pretty in one of those dresses in the window.”
“Shut up,” Wyatt said. “There are limits to husbandly devotion.”
“Remember when Wyatt planned that elaborate scavenger hunt to ask Raven to prom?” Colt said, grinning. “Left all those carefully written clues around town, only to have Mrs. Peterson’s dog dig up the final one and chew it beyond recognition.”
“Poor Raven was so confused,” Wyatt said, the corner of his mouth lifting in a half smile.
“Fortunately she’s smart and figured it out,” Duncan added. “She was always willing to go along with your crazy schemes.”
“That woman would do anything for you,” Hank said, nudging Wyatt’s shoulder. “I tried telling her you weren’t worth it and that you leave your socks on the floor, but she married you anyway.”
The words, meant as simple brotherly teasing, struck Wyatt with unexpected force. Would Raven really do anything for him? He didn’t think so. At least not lately.
“Earth to Wyatt,” Hank’s voice broke through his thoughts. “You with us, brother?”
Wyatt blinked, realizing they were all watching him with varying degrees of concern. “Sorry. Just remembering.”
“Must be some memories,” Duncan observed quietly.
“The best kind,” Wyatt replied, meaning it despite everything. Every memory with Raven, from blue crayons in kindergarten to their wedding day, was a treasure he held close when the darkness of his work threatened to overwhelm him.
“Well, on that sickeningly romantic note,” Aidan said, pushing his empty plate away, “I should get to the garage. Mr. Blackwell’s bringing in his Aston Martin, and that car requires personal attention.”
“Heaven forbid the luxury cars wait,” Colt teased, finishing his coffee.
“You’re just jealous because your patients don’t purr when you tune them up,” Aidan replied with a grin.
“You’re not fooling anyone,” Duncan said. “Mr. Blackwell doesn’t only bring in his Aston Martin. He also brings his granddaughter with him. I think she’s the president of the Aidan O’Hara fan club.”
“She’s barely older than Mac,” Aidan said, pulling out his wallet and putting bills on the table for their waitress.
“Blackwell’s granddaughter better watch out,” Hank said. “I’d pay money to see that catfight.”
“What are you talking about?” Aidan asked. “What catfight?”
Wyatt coughed, hoping Hank would get the clue and stop talking, but Hank wasn’t one for subtleties.
“My money is on Dylan,” Hank continued. “She’s little, but she’s scrappy.”
“Dylan?” Aidan asked. “What are you talking about?”
“This is what happens when you inhale engine fumes all day,” Colt said. “You start losing brain cells.”
Aidan slid out of the booth and said, “I think you’re all crazy. See you later.” And then he left them gaping behind him.
“Boy’s got the perfect woman right under his nose, and he can’t see the forest for the trees,” Duncan said.
“Maybe he needs a little push,” Hank said.
“Careful or you’re going to turn into Mom and Aunt Simone,” Duncan warned. “We’ve got enough matchmakers in this family.”
“Same time next week?” Hank asked, gathering his keys.
“Work permitting,” Wyatt said, knowing he couldn’t promise more with everything in his life so complicated these days.
They parted ways outside Heavenly Delights, the morning sun now fully risen over the mountains, bathing Laurel Valley in golden light. Wyatt watched his brothers head in different directions.
Normal lives. Ordinary days. The simple certainty of knowing where you belonged and who you were meant to be.
He’d had that once—that unquestioning sense of identity and purpose. Now he lived in the shadows between worlds, no longer fully the man who’d grown up racing these boys through pine forests and building forts by the river, not yet someone he could recognize when he looked in the mirror after certain assignments.
But for an hour over pancakes and coffee, he’d been just Wyatt O’Hara again. Brother. Husband. Man of honor in a town that still valued such things.
As he walked to his truck, he held that feeling close, knowing it might need to sustain him through whatever dark paths lay ahead. The normal life he craved hovered just beyond his reach—visible, tangible, but separated by a chasm of necessary secrets and dangerous truths.
One day, he promised himself. One day he would find his way back to pancake breakfasts without shadows, to coming home to Raven with nothing to hide, to being the man his brothers still believed him to be.
For now, though, he had a job to do. People to protect. A community to shield from forces it didn’t fully understand were gathering at its borders.
And if that meant sacrificing his own peace for a while longer, it was a price he would willingly pay.