Page 41 of This Broken Heart
His face is dead serious. “I don’t want you getting sick.”
I’m not sure how to take that. “I’m tough. You don’t have to worry about me.”
He frowns at that, jaw tensing. “As soon as we get back to the house, we’re ordering you decent boots and some coveralls.”
26.
Josh
Sometimes fresh snow gives me anxiety.
This snow is good, though. It’s hard. Dingy.
It’s not at all like the perfect, soft snow that fell on the worst day.
We didn’t even get one more Christmas with Ana that year. I didn’t have the heart to put up Christmas decorations. Trace was only two, so he didn’t know any better.
Last year, I just told him grandma had the tree at her house and he accepted it as a fact.
It’s good that we’re putting up our own tree this year. Trace and Maven deserve a real Christmas. It’s such a relief to have someone help.
My mom offered to help put up the tree, but she misses Ana too, so I knew it would just be depressing. But Erin isn’t stained by all that. She’s separate from the muck and the mire.
Imported joy.
I drag the tree into the house before climbing up into the attic. I find Ana’s Christmas decorations and an antique tree stand that my grandparents used.
Erin’s got hot cocoa going on the stove by the time I get back, and the house smells so warm. It’s alive with music and noise. A feeling of hope whispers through my chest.
But then I sit down on the couch and open the box of decorations. Right on top is the glass star I gave Ana on our first anniversary. Beneath that is the shell ornament she picked out to celebrate Trace’s first Christmas.
Erin quietly sits at my side. “We don’t have to use those.”
“It’s fine.” I say, aiming for a light-hearted tone, but it comes out strangled.
She swipes her thumb across my cheekbone, catching tears. “No, it’s not.”
When did I start crying? Jesus Christ. “Must be something in my eye.”
Erin pushes up to her feet. “Besides, I had big plans to make homemade decorations.” She holds out her hand. “Come on. The kids will love it.”
I suspect she is learning to weaponize the kids to get me to see her side of things. In this case, she might have a point. I carry the box back to the garage, taking a few seconds to pull myself together. By the time I come back inside, Erin has the kids working on paper garland.
Maven’s just making a mess, but Trace’s garland is already pretty long. He staples ring after ring together, his little tongue poking out in concentration.
I lean into the counter beside Erin. She hands me a mug of cocoa and I breathe it in. “Thanks for all this.”
“The holidays can be hard.” She shrugs. Judging by the look in her eye, she’s missing her dad. “You got anything stronger we can spice this up with?”
I grin. “Whiskey?”
She makes a face.
“Rum?”
She shrugs. “Getting closer.”
“Peppermint schnapps?”