Chapter 1: Rabbit Hunt and Hidden Hearts

I’d promised to take Kyle and Riley—those two little troublemakers—out hunting. I’m a man of my word, especially when it comes to Zach, so as soon as the weather cooperated, we packed up and headed out. Sure enough, we came back with a couple of fat rabbits, the kids grinning from ear to ear.

It was one of those mornings that just begged for adventure: the air crisp, sunlight flickering through the leaves, the scent of damp earth rising with every step. The boys’ laughter echoed as they darted ahead, chasing each other with wild, unrestrained joy. Kids really are unstoppable in the woods. By the time we returned, our boots were caked in mud, our hands full, and the kids were already arguing about who’d spotted the first rabbit.

We gathered some fallen branches and built a fire. Zach, always quick and to the point, cleaned the rabbit meat with practiced hands, then handed it over to me. I skewered the meat on some thick sticks and set it to roast over the flames.

The fire popped and hissed as the meat sizzled, sending up a smoky aroma that curled into the clear blue sky. Zach moved with the ease of someone who’d done this a hundred times, his hands sure and steady. The kids watched, eyes wide, as I slowly turned the skewers, the rabbit skin crisping to a golden brown. It felt just like those campfire photos in old family albums—except this one was ours, right here, right now.

When the meat was almost done, I sprinkled a little salt and brushed on some honey we’d found in the woods. We didn’t have much in the way of seasonings, but with meat this fresh, who needed more?

The honey caramelized, sending up a sweet, mouthwatering scent that had everyone’s stomachs growling. I could practically hear Riley’s mouth watering. We didn’t need fancy spices—just the basics, and the taste of a good day’s work. Honestly, who needs anything more?

I tore off a big rabbit leg for each of the kids, and Zach and I didn’t bother with manners either, ripping chunks of meat from the rabbit’s back and popping them straight into our mouths.

Out here, plates and etiquette didn’t matter. Grease on our fingers, smoke in our hair, laughter in the air—these were the moments that stick. Zach winked at me, and I tossed him the best piece from the second rabbit, the two of us eating like we were back in high school, sneaking snacks behind the gym.

Mmm. I nodded, satisfied, and kept working while Zach started roasting the second one.

The taste was everything you crave after a morning in the woods—simple, primal, just right. I grinned, licking my fingers. The kids were already halfway through their legs, faces smeared with honey and smoke.

Yeah, I know—it’s a Chinese thing. Fits me, though. I was born in the Year of the Rabbit, and roasted rabbit is heaven.

If heaven has a scent, it’s gotta be this. I couldn’t help thinking about all those old stories Grandma used to tell about lucky animals and what they meant. Turns out, being born in the year of the rabbit has its perks—especially when you’re the one with the best recipe.

Kyle had grease all over his mouth, talking through bites: “...That day, Uncle caught a rabbit for us. We were gonna eat it, but Uncle Mitch scared it off!”

He spoke with his mouth full, waving his half-eaten leg for emphasis. Riley snorted, nearly choking on his own bite, and Zach just rolled his eyes, smirking like he’d heard this story a dozen times before.

I couldn’t help but laugh. This kid really holds a grudge.

His cheeks puffed out, eyes shining with mock outrage, Kyle looked every bit the picture of wounded pride. I had to fight the urge to ruffle his hair again right then and there.

“Didn’t I just make it up to you?” I pinched his cheek, teasing. “So, whose rabbit tastes better—your uncle’s, or the one Uncle Mitch and Uncle Henry caught?”

I leaned in, lowering my voice like I was sharing a big secret. The kids loved it when I played along, and Kyle grinned, pretending to think it over seriously.

Kyle took a bite, mumbling, “Uncle’s rabbit ran away. How would I know what it tasted like...?”

Smart kid, always got an answer.

You can’t pull a fast one on Kyle—he’ll always find the loophole. Zach snorted into his sleeve, and Riley just kept eating, probably glad the spotlight was off him for once.

Speaking of Chase, he’s been busy lately. I heard he’s always behind on his homework and gets kept after class by the substitute teacher every day to catch up.

The poor kid, always the last one out of the classroom, trudging home with his backpack slung low. I remembered those days—detention never felt fair, but sometimes you just couldn’t keep up, no matter how hard you tried.

It was nearly noon, and Kyle and Riley were eating roast meat with us, so lunch wasn’t a worry for them.

Their faces were sticky, their bellies full, and they looked about as content as two kids could be. I felt a little proud, watching them wolf down the meal we’d made together.

But Chase was different. My sister-in-law was close to giving birth, and Grant had her resting in the guest room, so she couldn’t bring him food.

It was the kind of family chaos you only get in a big house—everyone running around, schedules clashing, and someone always needing something. I made a mental note to check on Chase later, just in case.

Kyle didn’t seem worried, acting all grown up as he reassured me, “Don’t worry, Uncle Mitch. My uncle always has food.”

He said it with the confidence of a kid who’s never truly gone hungry, nodding solemnly as if he was the man of the house. Kids really do think dads can do anything. I ruffled his hair, but he ducked away, grinning.

He’d just finished saying that when I saw Grant carrying a big Tupperware bowl full of food, covering his face with one hand as he sneaked over to Chase’s room while hardly anyone was around.

The sight was almost comical—Grant, usually so put-together, tiptoeing like a teenager sneaking in past curfew. I nudged Zach, who caught on immediately, and then motioned to Kyle.

I nudged Kyle and motioned for him to look up. “Is that what you meant?”

Kyle glanced up, then buried his head in his food again. “Yep! My dad’s been bringing Uncle food these days!”

He said it like it was the most normal thing in the world. I bit back a laugh, thinking of all the times my own dad had done the same for me or my siblings.

Seeing Grant try to hide while delivering food, I could tell he was embarrassed. Grant always cared about Chase’s studies. Since Chase had to stay late every day for extra lessons, Grant was probably annoyed too.

There was something almost tender about the way Grant hovered, checking to make sure no one saw. He was acting like he was on a secret mission.

So, did that mean Chase got chewed out every single day?

I shot Zach a look, and he just shrugged, like, ‘What can you do?’ The unspoken answer was obvious—Grant’s way of caring was always a little rough around the edges.

Zach, quick as ever, seemed to be thinking the same thing. He flipped the rabbit and let out a rough little laugh.

“Honestly, Chase does look a little pitiful.”

He said it. Not a shred of sympathy on his face. Easy for him to say—he’s not the one suffering.

I shot him a look and joined in, mock-serious: “Sure, he’s pitiful, but who didn’t go through this?—Wait!”

I paused, pretending to do some deep soul-searching, then wagged a finger at him. “Actually, I never got kept after class by Grandpa Joe. After all... Grandma Carol could never stand to see me go hungry.”

It was the truth—Grandma always made sure there was a snack waiting, even if I’d gotten in trouble. She’d fuss, but her heart was too soft for real punishment.

Turning my head, I saw Kyle holding his rabbit leg, not eating anymore.

He stared at it, lips pressed together, looking for all the world like he was wrestling with some big decision. I raised an eyebrow, wondering what was going through his mind.

“Why aren’t you eating?”

I ruffled his hair hard as I asked.

He looked at me like I’d just told him Christmas was canceled. But he didn’t pull away, just held onto that rabbit leg like it was the last one on earth.

“Uh...” Kyle looked at the rabbit leg, clearly still craving it, but forcing himself to hold back. “Dad and Mom, and Uncle—they haven’t eaten yet. I want to save some for them!”

He said it in a small voice, but the determination was clear. For a second, I felt a lump in my throat—kids can be so good it hurts.

Zach and I were both stunned, then burst out laughing. He was just too sweet—it almost hurt.

Zach wiped his eyes, still chuckling. “Look at you, Kyle. You’re gonna make us cry if you keep this up.”

“Silly kid.”

I tapped him lightly on the head and said, “Just eat. Don’t worry about the rest.”

I softened my tone, wanting him to know it was okay to take care of himself too.

“We caught plenty. If you finish it all, Uncle Mitch will roast more! Seriously, you finish that and I’ll whip up another batch.”

I winked, holding up another skewer for emphasis. “You think I’d let you go hungry? Not on my watch.”

“Really?” Kyle looked up at me, eyes shining with excitement.

His hope was so pure it made me want to promise him the moon. I ruffled his hair again, gentler this time.

I pretended to be annoyed. “Of course it’s true. When has Uncle Mitch ever lied to you?”

I tried to look stern, but couldn’t hold it. “Well—except for before. That thing with the sandball doesn’t count as lying, does it?”

Kyle giggled, the tension gone. I breathed a little easier—kids really do bounce back fast.

Kids. Give them a good meal and all is forgiven.

Watching him dig in, I felt a wave of gratitude—these were the moments that made all the hard work worth it.

Seeing Kyle eat so happily made all that time Zach and I spent in the woods this morning worthwhile.

It was the kind of simple joy that stays with you, long after the fire’s burned out and the woods have gone quiet.

But it seemed Grant hadn’t told Chase yet that he’d be coming with us to Silver Hollow. I wondered how Chase would react when he found out.

I pictured his face—half excitement, half dread. Change is always hardest when you don’t see it coming.

What I didn’t expect was that Grant didn’t tell Chase himself—he had my sister-in-law break the news.

Classic Grant—always delegating the tough stuff. Figures. Some things never change.