Page 49 of Cozy Little Christmas

Riley and Carter had fallen in love with it on their very first visit here.

The kids raced down the hall, Lydia following as fast as her sturdy legs would carry her, her curls bouncing and her delighted giggle floating back to the adults.

No sooner had they disappeared than Holly turned on Hannah, eyes narrowed. “What’s this I hear about you having dinner with Wes and his grandfather? Why didn’t you say anything?”

Hannah shifted at her parents’ scarred dining table, wishing suddenly for a cookie to shove in her mouth as a diversion. “Who told you that?”

“Stanley,” Holly said. “He dropped into Evergreen & Ivy to buy flowers for someone at the Shelter Inn and mentioned he’d eaten dinner with you. Mom’s lasagna, no less.”

“Oh, you invited Stanley and Wes over for lasagna?” her mother asked from the end of the table, sounding positively delighted. “I’m honored my cooking was involved.”

“Yes,” Hannah said, exhaling. “I did. I’m not entirely sure why. It was one of those impulse things. It felt right at the time.”

And it had dredged up a whole host of feelings she thought had been neatly packed away years ago.

“How are you doing with Wes back in town?” her mother asked gently. “It can’t be easy, sweetheart.”

Hannah thought of the way her heart still skipped when she saw him unexpectedly, as she had earlier that day at the care center, and the dreams she’d started having again since he came back to town. Vivid, unsettling dreams of being wrapped in his arms, of laughing with him over something silly, of waking up with his hand curled around hers.

“It’s fine,” she lied. “I’ve hardly seen him.”

“I bumped into him at the hardware store,” Asher said from across the table, his expression darkening. “I went in for ice melt and left itching for a beatdown.”

“Asher,” Paula said sharply.

“Stay out of it,” Hannah warned, pointing a finger at him. “And you too, Micah. This is none of your business. What happened between me and Wes is between us.”

“We’re family,” Micah said bluntly. “That means it’s between all of us.”

“That’s right,” Ash agreed. “You hurt one of us, you hurt all of us.”

“What is this, the mafia?” Hannah demanded. “Don’t be ridiculous. People break up all the time. Things didn’t work out with Wes and me. That doesn’t make him a bad guy. We just . . . weren’t right for each other.”

Holly frowned. “Funny. You certainly seemed right for each other. You were perfect together.”

“Perfectly young and stupid,” Hannah said briskly. “Anyway, I really don’t want to talk about Wes. He’s in my past, and he does not deserve to be harassed by the rest of my family simply because the two of us ended our relationship years ago.”

Her brothers looked as if they wanted to argue more, but her father, bless him, chose that moment to launch into a detailed description of an encounter he’d had with an old friend earlier in the week.

As the conversation shifted, Hannah sat back, letting the familiar warmth of her family’s banter wash over her. She loved them fiercely.

The Goodwins could be nosy and overprotective and occasionally exhausting, but they were also invariably loving and supportive.

She’d never doubted, not once in her life, that if she really needed something, every single one of them would show up.

She just didn’t particularly want to dissect her ancient heartbreak at the dinner table.

When the conversation hit a lull, she cleared her throat. “I was thinking I might take the kids down to see their mom this weekend.”

Five sets of Goodwin eyes swung her way.

“Can you do that?” Holly asked.

“Yes.” Hannah twisted her hands together. “I talked to the nurses. They said they can make arrangements for us. They agree that it might help her feel more connected to them. It should help the children too. They’re all struggling, especially with Christmas coming soon. And it’s Morgan’s birthday on Saturday. I don’t want her to spend it by herself.”

Her mother’s expression softened. “I am so proud of you for the way you’ve stepped up to help your friend,” Paula said. “When you first told us what you wanted to do, I thought for sure it was too much to take on. But you’re doing a wonderful, wonderful thing for her and for those children.”

Her mother’s words meant the world. “It’s for me too,” she admitted, surprising herself. “I like having them there. The house doesn’t feel quite so empty at night.”