Page 112 of This Broken Heart

“You’re not going to anymore?”

She smiles. “Doesn’t seem like it.”

“I’m sorry for being such a big dick.”

She buries her head into the crook of my neck. “The biggest.”

The urgent care in the sleepy little town nearby wasn’t prepared for the Midwestern storm that descended upon it. The Olson family can be pretty assertive when need be. Once we got a clean bill of health for Parker, Trace, and Erin, we made our way home.

If it wasn’t clear before, Erin had already made a place for herself in our family.

I guess I was just the last one to realize that.

I had the most to lose.

But the most to gain.

We sit on the couch, snuggled under layers of soft blankets, while my sisters play board games with Trace and Maven.

I’ve got Erin pinned against my side. My arm fits perfectly around her waist. Under the blankets, our fingers twine and untwine, a silent conversation. When she yawns, I offer to take her to bed, but she shakes her head. She doesn’t want to be alone. So I tuck her head under my jaw and hold her until she falls asleep. The sound of my family softly chattering with each other forms the perfect white noise.

It feels good to hold her in my arms without worrying about who’s looking.

She has the softest skin.

Her curves fit me like they were made for me.

And I was made for her.

She is sunlight on a rainy day.

75.

Erin

We trade sand for drywall dust.

The very next day after we got back from our Florida trip, Josh went over to the house and started tearing walls out. Every night and day is filled with a long list of items to check off before we can move.

He says now is the time, because come Spring, the farm will get busy again.

He has a point, but I can’t help but notice how much he’s changed since the accident on the beach. I worry that the near-drowning triggered him in some way, because ever since we got back, he’s been extra protective. If it was up to him, I would be with him every minute of the day.

I should be watching over Maven, but her grandma has her today while Trace is at school.

The guys and I are over at the big house,racing to get it ready to move into by February.

It’s a big job. The house has five bedrooms. There’s the room downstairs I famously dashed into when I was trying to hide from a very handsy Josh.

Upstairs, there’s Bo’s old room, which will belong to Trace. Reese was thrilled to pass her room on to Maven. I planned on taking Parker’s old room, but Josh made it very clear he and I would be in the same room.

It’s a little weird to think about sharing a bedroom with another person. I was an only child and never had the roommate experience. It’s even weirder to think that this was the room where all four Olson kids were conceived. My answer to that small nightmare was to completely rearrange the room. New light fixtures, new furniture. I tore the wallpaper down and have slowly worked my way around the room, repainting the jewel-toned walls to a bright, crisp white.

“Erin!”

My paint roller pauses midway up the wall and I cock my head, listening. Was that Bo?

“Erin!” Now it’s Bo and Dusty.

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