Page 97 of When You Were Mine

“Oh, hell yeah. It’s become a thing. We’ve done it for years. I got more creative about it. You…” He grimaced. “Not so much.”

Her laughter filled the car. “Do we have kids?”

“Yeah. Lots of them.”

The ache in her heart had her smile fading. “I’ll bet you’re a great dad.”

“The best. You want to know why?”

She nodded.

“Because you taught me how to be there for them. How to listen. You taught me what they need most is me, my time. I learned from your example to give them what I needed from my parents but never got.”

Tears spilled a hot trail down her cheeks. Her heart could barely stand the life they’d missed out on. She would’ve loved it.

“There it is,” he said.

They’d reached the curve in the road, and a bright orange lighthouse rose tall in the mist. She texted Piers.

Jessica: We see it.

Piers: Great. Door’s unlocked. Clean towels on the counter. He’s already got a fire going.

Jessica: Amazing! How do we pay him?

Piers: He’s not looking for payment. It’s just one night.

Jessica: Thank you so much! We appreciate this more than you know!

Piers: Will I see you tomorrow?

She glanced at Trevor, believing he’d do anything to get her home to her family for Christmas Eve.

Jessica: I don’t think so. Let’s talk in January, and then, I’ll come back in the spring.

Piers: Sounds good. Merry Christmas!

Jessica: Merry Christmas!

The driveway had not been plowed, so it was impossible to see where they were going. Trevor white-knuckled the wheel, concentrating on getting them as close to the lighthouse as possible.

“I wonder where the family lives.” She unbuckled as soon as he cut the engine. “I haven’t seen any sign of life out here.”

“Go on inside. I’ll grab our bags.”

That morning after breakfast, they’d bought a few essentials like underwear and toiletries, so they were set for the basics. And Trevor got a parka and gloves—thank goodness for that.

Too bad they hadn’t thought to buy some food. She clutched the neckline of her coat and dashed up the steps. Icy wind whipped her face.

She held the door open, waiting for Trevor, who had his arms loaded with bags. He rushed inside, and she slammed the brutal wind out behind him.

“Damn.” He stomped his shoes on the welcome mat.

Part of her still lingered in the multiverse world he’d created for them, so she didn’t respond. She couldn’t. It was too sweet, too perfect.

But also, unbearably sad to think of all they’d missed out on.

“Look at this place,” he said.

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