Page 432 of Ruthless Court

Chosen.

And for the first time in my life, choosing someone back does not feel like risking the ground beneath my feet.

It feels like finally standing on it.

Twenty-One

KANE

Christmas without Hannah is bullshit.

There.

Holiday spirit achieved.

My mother has spent forty-eight hours trying to convince me otherwise.

She baked enough cookies to supply a preschool. Dad dragged three plastic tubs of decorations from the attic. There’s a tree in the living room, garland around the staircase, lights across the porch, and some ceramic village my mother rearranges every December like tiny porcelain people have zoning disputes.

I’m home.

I should be happy.

Instead, I’ve checked my phone eleven times during breakfast.

Mom sets a plate of cinnamon rolls in front of me.

“You’re pathetic.”

I look up.

“Merry Christmas to you too.”

“You haven't heard a word I've said.”

“I heard cinnamon rolls.”

“What did I say before that?”

I take one.

“Something loving and maternal.”

Dad laughs behind his coffee.

Mom points at me.

“Hannah.”

That gets my attention.

“What about her?”

“Exactly.”

I tear off a piece of cinnamon roll.

“I miss her.”