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“What are you doing?” I ask, trying to peek. He turns the screen to show me a shopping page and I laugh. “Kill. This is the first time James has ever mentioned chess. You don’t need to buy him a set.”

“I want to,” he insists, squeezing my shoulder. It’ll never cease to amaze me how much he steals my breath away every time he makes it so clear he wants to spend time with the kids. “Playing with my grandpa when I was younger was my favorite. And if he meets James, he’ll love that he plays, too.”

“I want the kids to meet them—the rest of your family, I mean. It’s just a lot,” I say. “We’ve been such a small family for so long, and I feel so fucking lucky that we have you, and Ronan and Fallon and your mom, now, but bringing anyone else into their lives …”

“I get it, love. They’re your babies.”

“They are.” But this is Killian’s family we’re talking about. If he trusts them, I do too. Or, at least, I trust that Killian would never let anyone he didn’t trust implicitly around the kids. And that’s enough for me. “Once your dad knows, and I figure out how to explain everything to the kids, we’ll make it happen. I want them to know their people.”

“They’re your people now, too. And everyone is going to be so happy to have the three of you in the family,” he promises.

I watch him add a chess set and a horse model painting set to his cart, then select “guaranteed Christmas Eve shipping” for a small fortune.

“Kill.” I’m going for exasperated, but I just sound amused.

“What?”

“They already have millions of Christmas presents. You’re spoiling them.”

“Do you not want me to?”

I run my finger over his lower lip, and he kisses the tip. “It’s not that. I just don’t want you to feel like you have any kind of obligation because you missed out on so long with them. They already love you.”

“I do feel like I need to make up for the lost years. But with time, not stuff. All of the time I’ve gotten to spend with them this month, with all three of you … God, Scar. What a gift,” he says, his eyes shining.

“It’s been a gift for us, too,” I say, fidgeting with the ends of my hair as I weigh up how to say what I want to say next. Killian must notice my hesitation, because he places his finger under my chin and tilts my face up to look at him.

“Whatever you’re worried about saying, you can say it, love.”

I sigh, and he threads our fingers together, anchoring me to him. “Fallon mentioned that you’ve always gone out of your way to make up for how your dad acts. And I guess I’m just worried that’s what you’re doing here—taking care of us, treating me like … God, Kill, like I’m the center of your universe. I want you to do that because you want to do it, not because you feel like you need to overcompensate for how he’s treated us.”

He considers me for a moment, his face betraying nothing. “That’s why I stayed at first,” he says, finally, and my heart slips down in my chest a little. “After the first time at your parents’, when you got upset about not being able to afford Caitlin’s lessons, I wanted to stay to help. To make sure you all had the best Christmas. But things changed, Scar. Very fucking quickly, things changed. And I still want to help, I still want to give you and the kids the life you deserve, but that has everything to do with me and how I feel about you, and nothing to do with him. I promise.”

Every single word is thick with conviction, and I believe him. I’m not a trusting person, not anymore, but there’s just something about Killian. There has been since the day he showed up here and I offered him James’s bedroom. It’s nothing I can put my finger on, just a gut feeling that tells me I’m safe with him. It’s everything else that worries me.

“I’m scared,” I admit, my voice thin and frail.

“Of course you are, baby. No one could ever blame you for being scared after the last time you let someone in. But I’m not going to hurt you, I promise.”

“I know. I know you would never. That’s part of the problem; everything in our little bubble is so perfect right now, and everything else is worrying. I don’t know how the kids are going to handle finding out about us, let alone finding out that you’re their brother. They didn’t cover this in the parenting books,” I say, with a wry smile, and he chuckles.

“It’s probably going to be a little confusing for them,” he agrees. “But they’re resilient. And they don’t need to find out everything all at once. And we can probably find a therapist, or something, who specializes in explaining these kinds of things to kids, to make sure we’re doing it all right.”

We. I like how that sounds. For as long as I’ve been a mom, it’s been I. Me. My family have been amazing, but it’s not the same as having someone on your team 24/7. And though I know he won’t be here forever, and it’s already killing me that I’m going to have to let him go, for the first time, I don’t feel like I’m doing this entirely alone.

“What else is worrying you, love?”

What’s always worrying me? “Your dad. I have no idea how he’s going to take all of this, but I can’t imagine it’s going to be good.”

Killian sighs. “I want to tell you there’s nothing to worry about and it’s all going to be fine, but I’m never going to be anything less than honest with you. And the truth is, I don’t know either, but I don’t think it’ll be good. No matter how he reacts, though, no matter what comes of it all, we’ll figure it out together, Scar. You and me.”

You and me. I like how that sounds, too.

35

Scarlett

We do Christmas Day at the farm, and it’s always magical. My parents make a big feast, there’s always a fresh blanket of snow as far as the eye can see, and the kids tire themselves out playing with each other and Landon’s dogs. But I want them to have nice memories of Christmas at home, too, so we always have Christmas Eve here.