The next morning, Gwen is cuddled against me, and I'm both eagerly awaiting and dreading the inevitable knock on the door from my sister. There's no way she'll stay away once the St. Anthony whisper network has let her know I'm in town.

"Are you happy?" Gwen is tracing figure eights on my chest.

"Are you?" My instinct is still to deflect, but I know I'll answer in a minute once I've gathered my thoughts. Before the nightmares returned and my sleep suffered, there was no question I was happy. The happiest I'd been in a very long time. That's still true, but the happiness is tainted by dread, and I haven't figured out exactly what the dread is about.

Am I worried that something is going to happen to Gwen? Is it our impending separation? Am I not ready to go back to the DRC? Is it just simply the proximity to my family and childhood? My nightmares could be symbolic of all of it or none of it.

"Yeah, I am," she says, and there's hesitation in her tone.

"But?"

"It's a weird kind of happiness now than it used to be. The last few weeks, I've just been happy. The happiest I've probably been in a really long time. Knowing that it might be coming to an end is... Well, it's not just happiness I feel."

"Same," I say.

"I really think that there has to be a way—"

There's a knock on the room door, loud and insistent. It could only be one person.

"Blake, I know you're in there, and I know you got to town early. Don't make me have Kellen open the door," Angela says.

I throw back the covers and start gathering my clothes. If there's one thing I've learned about Ang, it's that she's persistent. When she wants something, her threats aren't empty.

Beside me, Gwen starts throwing on whatever she can find from her bag beside the bed.

Before Ang can head back to the front desk, I make it to the door, and I crack it open.

"Oh, my God. I haven't seen you in at least a year, and you're not going to hug your sister?" She holds out her arms for emphasis, and I try to keep the door somewhat closed with my foot before drawing her into a hug. She's only a bit shorter than me, and just as sturdy. "I was trying to figure out how long it's been last night, and I think it's been almost two years. Last time you were on leave, I flew to Vancouver for a weekend."

Which is how it's been between us since she was old enough to parse out what happened between me and our parents. If I'm on leave, and I'm in Canada, she's at my door at some point, checking in and checking up. As the youngest, her memories of our childhood are filtered through a different lens than mine.

I take in Ang's long dark hair that spills down her back, and her clear vibrant green eyes. Unlike my brothers, she never let the drink get hold of her. It's the main reason I've come to trust her, and she's never let me down. I'm not sure if she'd say the same about me.

After Diana died, and Herb called her because I was emotionally wrecked, she stuck with me for months, even when I tried to keep her at arm's length. She even came to some of the counselling sessions I was forced to attend to see whether we could wade through some of our residual family shit. She's my closest connection, and the one person who has a clear sense of my inner workings.

"Is she in there?" Ang asks in a stage whisper.

"Yes," I admit.

"I need to meet her."

When I don't move, she says, "Right now. I need to meet her right now."

The door pops open wider behind me, and Gwen appears beside me. She thrusts her hand in Ang's direction, but my sister isn't having it. She's a hugger.

"No, no way," she says, waving off Gwen. "We're like family. Anyone who can make my grumpy brother so freaking happy is immediately my new best friend forever."

"Aww," Gwen says, batting her eyes at me before accepting Ang's hug. "Blake's been talking about me?"

"Nonstop because he thinks you're adorable."

Warmth floods my cheeks, but the closer we get to saying goodbye, the more I don't want to deny any truth. So when Gwen turns her wide grin to me, I meet her gaze, and I say something else that I probably shouldn't. "It's true."

Gwen rises on her toes and presses her soft full lips to my cheek, and I slide my hand around her waist in response. In this moment, it feels like I'd do anything for her. Anything she asked. Long distance between the DRC and Florida would be awful, but it might be slightly less awful than being without her completely. It's the first time I've even let myself consider the possibility.

"I'm surprised you two haven't run off and eloped," Ang says. "Or asked me for a dual wedding."

"Okay, okay," I say, shaking my head. "I've reached my limit."

"No," Gwen says with a laugh. "There is no limit on insider tips to the workings of Blake's mind. I need more."

"Us in a nutshell."

Ang laughs and then envelops us both into half hugs in the doorway. "This is going to be so much fun! I love my brother's dry sense of humor, and you," she says to Gwen, "seem like a riot."

"I have no doubt she's been part of some riots," I say.

"Okay," Ang says, drawing away from us. "We're all in a good mood right now, so don't hate me."

I raise my eyebrows and wait for the shoe to drop. Sometimes jovial Ang is just a response to not having seen me in a while, and sometimes she's trying to cover up a really bad idea with overconfidence. Today appears to be the latter.

"In an hour, we're having a family breakfast," she says.

"No," I say. "Count me out. Count us out." As soon as Ang opened her mouth, I knew she was going to extend an invitation to Gwen and try to weasel me into the deal. I'd never let her near my family without being there. In some ways, having invited her here at all is madness. If I wasn't so concerned about squeezing out every last drop of time, I would never have suggested it.

"We'll go to breakfast and get all the fighting out of the way. Then my wedding will be peaceful."

"Ang." I give her a look of disbelief. "We'll all fight at breakfast and then whatever fights we started will continue into your wedding. They'll escalate."

"No," she says this with conviction. "Sam and Jamie aren't drinking anymore. Mom and Dad are sober this week. They promised."

One of the reasons Ang and I are close, and probably also one of the reasons she hasn't abandoned all hope here in St. Anthony regarding our family is that she's an eternal optimist. Despite all the shitty things that have gone on in our family, she still holds out hope that deep down they are good people.

This also affords me a lot of grace when I'm not in as frequent communication as she'd like. For that, I'm grateful. But when it comes to our core family, I'm a realist. None of them are going to change, and they have no real interest in changing, despite what they've told Ang.

"I'll come," I say. "But Gwen is staying here." I don't dare look at Gwen because I know she'll either protest or be hurt, but I can't feed her to the piranhas, and if my parents and brothers have been drinking, it'll be a feeding frenzy.

"Blake," Gwen whispers, trying to get my attention.

"It'll be fine," Ang says. "They promised."

"Have you told Dad that he's not walking you down the aisle yet?"

"I...I mentioned it," Ang says.

"In an hour?" I ask, checking my watch. She's avoided giving me a firm answer which could mean any number of things, but I know I don't want to get into any of it in front of Gwen.

"Yep," Ang says with a smile. "At Mom and Dad's place."

My jaw tightens, and I barely suppress my frustration. The last time I set foot in that house was when I brought Diana home because she'd felt it was important to understand where I'd come from. The visit, brimming with drunken abuse, was such a terrible experience that I've never gone back.

But the thing about having had Ang in my corner for years now is that it's very hard, almost impossible, not to be in hers when she asks. It's why I'm here for the wedding in the first place, why I would have somehow made it here even if I'd been on assignment. I wouldn't say I've never let her down, but I try to avoid it when I can, even if it makes my life more difficult.

"I'll see you then," I say, tugging Gwen back into the room.

"Maybe I should come?" Gwen suggests once the door is closed. "Moral support? Or meeting them might help me understand you a bit better?"

"I'm sure you'll meet them at the wedding," I say. "A heavily controlled situation is much better than my parents' kitchen."

"You're that worried?" Gwen bites her lip.

"Not worried. I know what they're like. Unlike Ang, I don't need them to show me who they are over and over to recognize them for what they are. She wants to find the best in people, even when it's not there. Frankly, I'm shocked they haven't destroyed her yet." I grab my things for the shower.

"Okay, so... I'll just stay here then?"

"Sorry, but yes." I keep my tone firm. There's a good chance I'll be too busy protecting and defending myself to be worried about Gwen too.

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