Page 23 of A Moon Lake Christmas Hero

Her sigh sounded like it was ripped out of her soul.

“Where should I even begin?” she said.

I looked at her sideways. “That bad?”

She shrugged. “I lost my parents a couple of months ago.”

Her tone of voice conveyed so much pain, I could feel it in the back of my throat.

“I’m so sorry. Were you close?”

She nodded. “They were older. Didn’t plan to have kids. I was their surprise. The last couple of years, their health was bad, so I was their caregiver.”

“That must’ve been hard.”

She shrugged. “I loved them.”

“And you lost them both?”

She nodded. “There was a fire in our building. I was out on a grocery run, and…”

Her voice failed her, and I squeezed her hand, knowing without her needing to speak it out loud where the story ended.

She turned away, swallowed repeatedly. “They died because of me. Because I wasn’t there.”

Tears were in her voice, and I wished I could take away her pain.

“If you’d been there, there’s a chance you could’ve died too,” I said.

It probably wasn’t the right thing to say, but I’ve seen too many fires, read too many reports. There was a decent chance she could’ve not made it out, especially if she’d tried to rescue two elderly adults. And just that thought made me shiver inside and made my protective instincts roar.

It made me want to take her in my arms and never let go again. Made me want to protect her, shield her, keep her safe.

“I’m sorry.” She wiped away her tears and sniffed. “I didn’t intend to dump all of my shit on you.”

Watching her try so hard to pull it together made my chest squeeze. This woman had encountered unbelievable pain, and yet here she was apologizing for feeling.

Apologizing for showing those feelings.

I grabbed her shoulders, turned her to me, and stepped closer until our chests touched, then lifted her chin with my index finger. I could smell her. That barely-there smell of coconuts that had been driving me nuts ever since I’d met her. “Never apologize. Not for hurting. Not for feeling pain. And not for feeling joy, either. You’re entitled to your feelings. You’re entitled to feel as deeply as you can every second of every day.”

She blinked, her liquid, brown eyes boring into mine.

“And I got you—always.”

I was dead serious. Whatever she needed from me. Whatever the future may hold for us. I would have her back. With that, I leaned down and touched her lips with mine.

Before I took her hand again, turned around, and walked back toward the house.

ERIN

This situation was like straight out of a Hallmark Christmas movie.

I'd never met so many fascinating people in one place at one time. Period.

The bonfire cast dancing shadows across smiling faces that all held stories I couldn't wait to discover.

How could this town and these people have been here all this time, and nobody knew about it?

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