Page 52 of This Broken Heart
This is not the best time for me to drag Trace to a crowded holiday festival. I don’t like those things when I’m in a good mood, let alone when I’m taking my one-night-stand along for the ride.
But when my mom makes a decision, her will is iron clad. Fifteen minutes later, Erin and I both find ourselves bumping down the icy drive, Trace merrily chatting away in the backseat.
Erin spots Reese before I do. “Is that your sister?”
She’s short and compact, not unlike my mom. In fact, mom is always calling Reese her mini me. They have the same dark hair and sleepy eyes.
I’m not surprised to see Reese coming back from a walk. She was always like that, rain or shine, out walking by herself. She said she needed the air; I think she just needed away from our full house.
I pull over, tires crunching in the ice and gravel, and roll down the window. “What are you up to?”
She leans on the edge of the truck door and waves at Erin. “I had to get out of the house. Charlie and Parker are driving me nuts.”
“Want to go to Small Town Christmas?”
She wrinkles her nose. “Not particularly.”
“It’s that or go back to the loving arms of our dear sisters.”
She laughs. “Fair point.”
My shoulders sag a little in relief as she slides into the backseat, bumping fists with Trace.
She is the buffer Erin and I needed.
Scooting to the middle of the backseat, she leans forward. “What’d you think of the Olson family Thanksgiving?”
Erin glances back at her. “Yeah. They’re great.”
Her tone is too light. Neither of us believe her.
Reese laughs. “We’re not particularly fond of that side of the family, so you don’t have to worry about our feelings.” She thumps me on the arm. “I heard your boyfriends are driving the firetruck this year.”
“You bet. Bo and Skyler.”
She laughs. “What fool gave the keys to the fire truck to the Thomas cousins?”
“They probably gave them to themselves. Did you forget that Bo’s captain of the department?”
“I didn’t forget. I just can’t believe it.” She angles her body towards Erin. “Josh and his buddies were the town golden boys, but naughty as all get out.”
I frown at her. “And my son is sitting in the back, listening to every word, no doubt.”
“No, I’m not.” Trace pipes up.
Erin bites back a smile.
Reese glances at Trace with a grin. “Then I’ll talk about the Thomas boys instead.”
Reese spends the next twenty minutes regaling Erin with G-rated versions of my high school exploits. Thanks to Ana, I was probably the best behaved of the four of us. But with all the dumb-shit things we did, it’s amazing we survived into adulthood.
The traffic starts to get congested about a mile outside city limits. “Here we go.” I say with a dry tone.
This festival brings visitors from as far as Lincoln. It’s elbow to elbow at times.
We climb out of the truck and I toss Trace up on my shoulders.
He leans precariously from his perch, pointing for Erin’s benefit. “See the tree?”