Total pages in book: 55
Estimated words: 55769 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 279(@200wpm)___ 223(@250wpm)___ 186(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55769 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 279(@200wpm)___ 223(@250wpm)___ 186(@300wpm)
“It’s fine,” Hank assured and started out the door, catching Tex grinning like a maniac.
Right.
Even if it wasn’t already, that made it worth it right there.
Tex was happy his family was in town for the holiday.
Yep.
Totally worth it.
“Oh, and while you’re out there…” Trish called, head now in the fridge as Hank was halfway out the door with the tree, “…can you help Herb and Tex with our bags and the packages? We mailed them early to Tex. They’re wrapped and everything, so we’re all set to start Christmas without delay!” She peered around the fridge door to Luke, “You go too, Lucas. We’ve got a lot to bring in.”
Luke touched his finger to his forehead and flicked it out in a salute before heading toward the front door.
He was still smirking.
“Hell’s half acre,” Herb grumbled, following Hank out the door. “That’s where I live. That’s my life.”
Hank mentally called bullshit.
Herb doted on his wife.
He bitched a lot, but it hadn’t escaped Hank, he gave in.
Every time.
Hank woke without woman or dog.
It was the dead of night.
Christmas was over.
And Roxie wasn’t with him.
He threw the covers back, hauled his ass out of bed, and with a glance through the shadows at the bathroom, the door of which was open, he prowled out of the room.
He stopped dead one step in the kitchen when he saw her.
She was sitting on the counter, curled into herself, arms wrapped around her calves, staring out the window.
Shamus was lying on the tile of the kitchen floor right under her.
Shamus’s head came up when Hank arrived, and he gave a soft woof.
That was when Roxie’s head came around.
His dog’s tags jingled as he loped to Hank, but Hank only gave him a distracted scratch while on the move to his woman.
He slid a hand along her waist to curl his fingers in on the other side, wrapped his other hand around her ankle, and tried real hard to get his heart from jackhammering out of his chest.
Because this was strange.
Roxie was a MacMillan. She was a Logan. Crazy came with the package.
But this was different.
“You okay?” he whispered.
“You know what’s the worst?” she whispered back.
He braced.
He was a cop. He knew a lot of worsts.
What happened recently to a member of their crew was some of the worst that worst could get.
What happened to Roxie was too.
She didn’t seem to have to process what Billy Flynn did to her too much. She’d had her rough patch when Vance brought her home. They’d worked through how she felt it sullied her so she wasn’t good enough for him, and they fought their way to their normal.
But he’d been around shit like this his entire career. He’d heard his dad telling his mom about it while he was growing up.
He knew it could come back to bite you.
“No, sweetheart, what’s the worst?”
She tipped her head to the window.
“That tree looks amazing.”
He looked out the window, tightening his hold on her ankle, because it did.
Before Roxie, Hank had zero Christmas decorations. He was a single guy who spent the last thirty-five years at his parents’ place for Christmas. He didn’t feel the need to buy them, mostly because he knew, when he found his woman, they’d do it up like he and Roxanne did it.
Together.
They decided to go for what they needed, tree and some things around the house, and add on as the years went by. So they bought a lit wreath for the door, Hank hung it and set the timer to light it, and for this year, that was all they did outside.
That meant the huge tree in his front yard gleaming with an abundance of bright white lights in the dark against the snow shone like a cheerful Christmas beacon.
Sometimes, less was more.
“Mom was right,” Roxie went on.
He wanted to smile.
He didn’t smile.
He focused on her profile.
“Why are you sittin’ on the countertop in the dark, Sunshine?” he prodded.
Her answer made Hank go completely still.
“Because today was the best day ever, in my whole life, and I don’t want it to end.”
It was Christmas night, actually probably the day after, considering what he suspected was the time.
And she was right.
It had been a great fucking day.
She turned from staring at the tree to look into his eyes.
“I love how much Mom loves holidays,” she admitted. “I love her cheesy hash browns and egg casserole. I love how crazy it is with paper and ribbon and Christmas music playing. I loved how Shamus was in seventh heaven with all the mess and people. I loved watching Tex watch Mom and how happy he looked. How he looked like he’d finally come home, even though he was nowhere near Indiana, just being around Mom being Mom was home to him.”
He saw the tears shimmering in her eyes, knowing what she said about Tex was as big as it could get, and having felt that same feeling watching Tex settle back into the family who’d missed him for far too long, and now had him back.