Page 107 of Louder Than Words

Then Allie sighs softly, bending to sift through the box again. I join her, bending at the knees, but my eyes aren’t on the decorations—they’re onher. Watching the way her lips curve every time her hand touches something new, like each piece brings back a whole new memory.

Then her fingers brush against a small stocking, and she freezes. The light fades from her eyes as quickly as it appeared. I freeze too, scrambling for a way to bring it back, though part of me is curious as to what ripped it away so quickly.

So I sit there quietly, ready to reach for her the second she needs it.

She slowly pulls the stocking free from the tangle of tinsel. It’s small and pink, white fur around the top, withCharlieembroidered in glitter. Allie holds it in her lap, her thumbs brushing over the fur as silence fills the room.

I reach out, my hand landing on her back, tracing slow circles. “It’s alright, Al,” I murmur.

Her eyes close, and I don’t miss the single tear that slips free from the corner of her eye.

Suddenly, I really fucking hate Christmas.

She looks up at me, and it’s like she’s reached over and punched me straight in the gut. Her eyes are already red.

“It’s just not fair,” she whispers, voice already breaking.

I frown, my hand finding her chin. “I know it’s not, love. And I’m so sorry life hasn’t been fair to you. They should be here. But they’ll be back.”

Another tear slips down her cheek as she shakes her head slowly. “But what if—”

“No.” I move closer, wrapping my arms around her and pulling her into my chest. “No, Allie. We’re not thinking that way right now.”

Her hands clutch my shoulders, holding on just as tightly as I’m holding her. We rock each other back and forth, like it’s some kind of silent competition to see who needs the comfort more.

But then she stops, and she pulls herself from my chest as her eyes search mine. “But what if he won, Jax,” she says anyway.

And my heart cracks right in fucking half.

That’s when a knock sounds at the door, like the universe has the worst timing imaginable.

Allie flinches, her brows pinching together as her eyes flick from the door to me.

“I’ll get it,” I say quietly, already pushing to my feet.

My heart hammers in my chest with every step toward the door. Who the hell would be knocking on Christmas Eve?

But when I reach the door and glance through the stained glass, I catch a glimpse of the figure on the other side—

And my fucking heart drops.

43

Allie

I never believed in God.

My mother went to church. I stayed home.

She prayed, and I—well, I prayed too, but only to myself, quietly at night, asking that my girls would always be safe, always feel loved.

But my words were never sent to a “higher power.”

I’ve always believed we make our own miracles, rather than feeling the need to thank someone else when things work out. I’ve always found that strange.

Yet, a few seconds after Jax opened that front door, I almost started to believe.

My hand flies to my chest the moment I hear one too many footsteps scrambling inside.