Page 28

“Can we go show Tyler your Christmas tree and our new rooms?” Carter asked.

“Sure,” Hannah said. As all three children raced inside, his mom settled onto a bench in the garden while Wes and Hannah continued twisting lights around the tree.

“How’s it going with the kids?” he asked when they were out of earshot.

She looked nervous suddenly. “Well, Morgan’s only been gone for three hours. So far, so good, I guess. They were pretty upset after she left so I’ve been trying to distract them by decorating for Christmas.”

“Seems like it’s working.”

“For now.” She sighed. “They’re really sweet kids who have been through far too much, losing their dad tragically, moving to a new state and now dealing with their mom’s illness.”

“They’re lucky to have you,” he said gruffly.

She gave him a startled look. “I’m not so sure about that but I’ll definitely do my best to love them and help them feel safe while they’re here with me.”

“That’s all you can do.”

She nodded and changed the subject. “It’s nice that your mom could spend Thanksgiving with you and Kelsey.”

He nodded. “Kelsey and I were just talking about that. Mom is fine on short day trips away from her care center then apparently she is usually ready to go back.”

She glanced over at Susie, who was humming to herself as she twirled a red maple leaf by the stalk between her fingers. “How much do you think she understands about . . . everything? About what happened to her?”

He followed her gaze, his throat suddenly tight. “It’s hard to know. She has good days and bad days. Sometimes she’ll say something so lucid that I forget for a moment. But then . . .”

“The reality comes crashing back,” Hannah finished quietly.

“Yeah.” Wes watched as Susie bent to pick up another leaf, her movements slow and deliberate. “I wish I could know what she’s thinking. What she remembers.”

Hannah reached out, her hand hovering near his arm before gently squeezing it. The familiar touch sent a jolt through him, awakening memories he had long buried.

Suddenly he was transported back to lazy summer afternoons spent in Hannah’s backyard, sharing dreams and stealing kisses. He remembered the way her laughter used to light up her whole face and how her hand fit perfectly in his.

A wave of longing washed over him, tinged with regret for all the years and experiences they had missed.

“Wes?” Hannah’s voice brought him back to the present. “Can you help me with this strand? It’s all tangled up.”

He moved closer, their shoulders brushing as they worked to untangle the string of lights. The proximity was intoxicating, bringing back memories of stolen moments and passionate encounters. His mouth on hers, their bodies tangled like the lights.

The raw pain in her eyes as he had walked away.

Guilt crashed over him like the pine tree had just toppled over, pinning him to the ground. He hated himself for the hurt he had caused her, the shared dreams that he had unilaterally discarded.

Part of him desperately wanted a hard rewind so he could make different choices. But even as the thought formed, he knew he couldn’t change the past.

He had taken the only route he could at the time, faced with his father’s death and his mother’s devastating injury. The weight of responsibility had been crushing, leaving no room for the future he and Hannah had once dreamed of together.

As they worked side by side in the cold evening air, Wes felt the bittersweet ache of what might have been.

In the aftermath of his father’s murder and his mother’s devastating injury, Wes had found himself drowning in a sea of anger and pain. He could see no room in that darkness for someone as bright and joy-filled as Hannah Goodwin.

Hannah had done everything right. She had grieved with him, cried with him, visited his mother’s bedside in those first, terrible early days. Through it all, she had been a beacon of light, trying to find hope in the bleakest of circumstances. But her attempts to look on the bright side of things had only reinforced how impossible they were.

Wes realized now how his pain had twisted him, turning him ugly and mean. Deep down, he had known he was going to destroy her if they stayed together.

He stepped away as the children came back out of the house, laughing and talking.

“That should do it,” he said, taking in their handiwork. “Will you decorate the tree beyond the lights?”