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I snapped the photo. I didn’t include his face, just the mug, his hands, and his chunky cable knit sweater in the background.

“Can you turn and look out the window?” I asked. “Out toward the snow?”

He followed my instructions, and I got a few good shots of him looking out at the winter wonderland outside. His jaw was tight, his gaze hard. The angle of my shot, along with the brightness of the day outside, made him mostly a silhouette. A handsome, sexy as hell, conflicted enigma, who I knew only wanted to get the hell out of Dodge.

I dropped my phone back down on the table.

Will handed me my coffee.

“Thanks,” he said.

“No, thank you,” I flung back.

20

Will

They put me at the kid’s table for Christmas dinner.

Okay, so it wasn’t a separate table. And there was only one kid. But Casey had definitely set up the dinner table so the two happy, loving couples, her and Hank and Stella and her new boyfriend Dean, were on one side, while the rest of us—me, Casey’s son Sam, and Dad, were on the other.

“To family,” Casey said, holding the glass of wine up at the head of the table.

Dad coughed. It was a long, wet hacking sound, and I caught Hank and Stella exchanging a worried look.

When he finished, everyone raised their glasses again.

“To family,” we all said. All of us except Dad and me.

Sam threw me a sideways look. He knew his grandfather wasn’t likely to join in on a cheery toast; he also knew he could give me a hard time about not doing it too.

“Don’t you love your family?” Sam asked. He was ten and didn’t miss a thing.

“Of course I love family,” I grumbled over a mouthful of turkey.

On his other side, Dad hacked again.

“How long have you had that cough, Dad?” Stella asked.

“It’s fine,” he said, tripping even over that word and coughing again.

Maybe I should have been worried, but I couldn’t think about him that way. I was still too fucking pissed.

Luckily, Sam seemed to sense that today, I wasn’t up for a roast, even from my favorite—and only—little nephew. Sam and I were buddies now, given I came over every Sunday afternoon to help with chores. It was win-win in my books—I got a good old-fashioned farm workout and he got to hang out with who I hoped was his favorite uncle. Though today, I wished I could even be away from him. I didn’t want to be around anyone I cared about. I was too worried I might hurt them. I would have skipped Christmas dinner if Stella hadn’t driven over to my house herself saying she wouldn’t go if I didn’t. I’d ended up following her car in mine, grumbling the whole fucking way.

“What’s up with you?” Sam asked as he poured an obscene amount of gravy over his mashed potatoes.

Dad’s cough seemed to have calmed down and everyone had relaxed. Stella had settled into a story about a car engine that had Dean and Dad deeply interested—both men were mechanics. Or at least Dad was before he retired. Hank and Casey, meanwhile, were leaning in and whispering at each other as if they were teenagers in love. Even Dean had an arm looped around my sister’s shoulders.

“I’m just upset your cousins aren’t here,” I said, taking a way-too-big bite of mashed potatoes so I wouldn’t have to talk for a minute. I’d spoken to Hannah and Remy on the phone earlier today. They were living it up by the pool at Gareth’s complex in Orlando. “It’s actually hot!” Remy had chirped.

“Remy and Draco are actually getting along, too,” Hannah had shared when it was her turn. “Only two phone fights.”

Then I decided a little honesty couldn’t hurt. Only a little. “But I’m also always a little sad at holidays because my mom isn’t here,” I said.

“That makes sense,” Sam said.

I softened. God, Sam was such a good kid. “My mom and I were really close, just like you and your mom are.”