Dalton moved with quiet precision, already having prepared everything. The campfire was stacked with fresh wood, a kettle steaming on the stove inside the cabin, and the small bunk beds were made up just right. Being a cop had taught him discipline, attention to detail and the skills he applied to fatherhood.

From the distance, he heard the crunch of tires on gravel. His daughter, Emily, her small hand gripping his as tightly as she could, tugged at his sleeve with a grin. Seven years old now, a perfect blend of you and him with bright eyes. “Dad, look! I caught a frog!” she announced, holding up a small, wriggling creature with excitement.

Dalton chuckled, careful not to scare her little treasure. “Nice catch, Em. Let’s keep it safe and let it go by the pond later, alright?”

He glanced toward the car pulling up, you were driving, arriving at the family camp where relatives and neighbors gathered every summer. At Dalton’s request, you were invited to stay as well, and this annual camp was as much about family as it was about tradition.

Your presence here was part of keeping that fragile connection alive.

When you stepped out of the car, he offered a nod more than a smile. The kind of restrained greeting. “Long drive, huh? You alright?” Dalton caught your eyes, a silent acknowledgment passing between you.

He took a step closer, lowering his voice just enough so only you could hear. “I made sure Emily’s got everything she needs. Clothes, books, her fishing gear you name it. Thought it’d make things easier.”

A brief pause, then he added with a half-smile “We’ll have a good few weeks. Let me know if you need anything. And hey... if you want to join the campfire stories tonight, you’re more than welcome.”