Page 114 of This Broken Heart

He chuckles softly. “She is obsessed with your hair. And the whole Irish thing.”

My family is barely Irish.

Genetically speaking, we’re very Irish. Both of my parents did a genetics kit. But our family tree is more of a family stump. Neither of my parents know much about their ancestors.

He watches me lift the stocking out of the box.

“I literally had to talk her out of the leprechaun.”

I laugh. “Seems mildly offensive.”

“That’s what I said.” He puts his arms around me, reaching over my arm to touch the stocking. “I told her to go with a clover.”

I lean back into his chest. “Yeah?”

“Because it’s a good luck charm. Just like you.”

My gaze traces the word.

There are only three letters and yet, it seems like the biggest word I’ve ever seen. Suddenly my eyes are burning and my throat feels thick.

76.

Josh

She sniffs and I turn her around so that I can study her face.

Her eyes are glassy with unshed tears. My heart dips. Maybe we misjudged the shamrock thing.

Damn it. I knew we should have picked the song bird. “Are you crying?”

She sniffs, giving me a watery smile. “I’m not crying. You’re crying.”

“Come here.” I reel her in, holding her in a tight, fierce hug. “I’m sorry for what I said in Florida. I can be a little dense at times. Maven recognized you right away for who you are to our family. I wish I could take back what I said.”

She leans her forehead against my chest. “You weren’t wrong.”

“Yes, I was.” Putting a finger under her chin, I tilt her face towards me. “Family isn’t finite. It’s what you make of it. There’s a place for you right here in Silver Bend. And if you can put up with two rowdy kids, a bunch of cattle, and a grumpy-ass farmer, I’ll spend every day making it worth your time.”

Her lips part and she stares at me, ominously short of words.

The front door clangs open and two sets of little feet come pelting in. She pulls away from me, glancing up.

I let her create some space, but keep one hand on the small of her back. “They aren’t staying. I just promised to let them come look at the fireplace.”

Trace and Maven burst into the kitchen, pink-cheeked and grinning.

With smiles that wide, they’re going to give us away.

I can hear mom talking quietly with the guys in the other room.

Trace pelts over to the table. “Are these the stockings?” He looks at each one. “T! T for Trace. This one’s mine. Look, Mavey. You got a ballerina.”

“Ballernina!” Maven chirps, yanking her stocking from Trace’s outstretched hand.

“Hey.” Trace digs into his. “There’s something in this one.”

Erin pulls away, kneeling down beside him. “What did you find?”

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