Rory couldn’t speak or swallow. So much for his optimism about thinking good memories could chase away the bad ones.

TJ’s hand covered Rory’s where it clutched the cane.

“She’s a really good baby,” TJ said quietly, urgently. “She’s smart, too. She already knows a bunch of stuff and is walking all over the place. Dad had to put locks on everything because she loves to pull all the pans out of the kitchen cupboard.”

“You sound like a really good big brother,” Rory said, finding his voice.

“Trying to be like you. Mom said you were the best—”

“That’s not true.”

“Well, she said it. And I believe it.” His chin notched up and his blue eyes locked with Rory’s. “And you’re here, aren’t you? You’ve come to see everybody for Christmas.”

Rory’s chest was on fire, and yet he pulled the boy in for one more hug. “I’ll come over tonight—”

“Not tonight, Uncle Rory. It’s the last night of the Stroll, and we’re all going. Want to come with us?”

Rory grimaced. “Not sure how much this hip would like strolling in the cold.”

“That’s true. Maybe tomorrow. That way you could sit in Dad’s La-Z-Boy chair and put your feet up.”

“I don’t think I want to take your dad’s chair.”

“It’s okay. He doesn’t need it as much as you do.” TJ glanced behind him, noting the kids with their trash bags gathering on the corner. “I better go. See you tomorrow?”

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Is that a promise? Can I tell Mom?”

“Yes, you can tell her, but TJ, I was never mad at her. I just was working—”

“Then bring a really nice present for Mom so she knows you weren’t ignoring her, okay? ’Cause Mom thinks you’re still upset about what she said about you riding bulls.”

And then TJ gave him a last hug before darting across the still deserted street, his oversized trash bag flapping at his side.

Chapter Three

She didn’t know why she was at the window, spying on them. It was the thing kids did, and gossips. And yet she couldn’t tear herself away from the glass where she was watching Rory talk to his nephew.

TJ looked so happy to see Rory.

Everyone would be so happy to see Rory.

She wasn’t the only one in this town who loved him. Rory Douglas meant a lot to a great many people.

A lump filled her throat as she watched the boy give Rory a last hug before running back to join his troop.

If only her feelings for Rory could be so simple. She missed the days where it was just a thrill to see him. She missed uncomplicated hero worship.

Sadie didn’t even know when a girlish crush became unrequited love.

Her mom used to tease her about loving someone who didn’t even know she existed, but Sadie would just laugh it off, replying, “We’ll see.”

But her mom was gone, and it had been Sadie who was wrong. Her mom died without ever seeing Sadie marry, or start a family. Her mom had badly wanted to be a grandmother. But not half as much as Sadie wanted to be a mother.

Sadie released the curtain and returned to her desk, determined to put Rory from her mind.

She was supposed to be over Rory. She had to be over him. She’d already seen the fertility specialist, and they’d come up with a plan to help her conceive in the new year, and the plan didn’t include Rory.

Stick with the plan, she told herself, turning on her desktop computer. It’s better this way. You’re so much better without him.