Page 30 of War

“Me too. She didn’t really feel like my mom,” Josie says almost matter-of-factly.

“What do you mean?”

Every second has become a balancing act, not only for Ava, but for me, as I consider how to join the conversation. I hope like hell Ava says the right thing, but at the same time, I don’t have the first clue what that would even be.

Josie’s lips twist as she considers her response. She’s always considering her words. She’s never rash, and she never yells. “It’s just a feeling, I guess. Have you ever had a really comfortable pillow or stuffed animal you loved? I had both in the hospital, and they made me feel better when I was sad. You too. You always cheered me up when I was lonely.” She beams at Ava like she is her entire moon and stars. “She didn’t feel like you. I wish you could be my mom.”

Ava pulls Josie to her chest, and in a strangled whisper, says, “Me too, love. Me too.”

I step out into the hall, my heart in my throat and at a complete fucking loss.

Josie needs Ava. Yet here I am, selfishly trying to adopt this little girl. Maybe I want her, but she certainly doesn’t need me.

Pulling on my hair, I tiptoe out of the room and head downstairs.

TWELVE

AVA

I liein bed beside Josie until long after her breathing evens out. I don’t know when I’ll see her again, when I’ll get to comfort her again, and that knowledge is like a knife to the chest. When I finally force myself to roll out of her bed, I know I’ve been in here for far too long.

I can only imagine how livid Xander is, but I can’t get myself to care about his feelings right now.

Josie wishes I could be her mom. The feeling is 100 percent mutual, and I don’t think I’ve wished for something so hard since I was sitting in a hospital bed beside my sister all those years ago.

Determined to make a plan to see her again—even if it means sucking up to War and playing nice—I head down the steps.

It’s eerily quiet downstairs. The only sound is the low Christmas music still playing.

“Hello?” I stand in the middle of the empty living room and turn in a slow circle. The main floor is one big, open space, so there’s nowhere for Xander and his family to hide, yet all I find as I scan the house are the dinner dishes drying on the counter and the Christmas tree glowing in the dark living room.

I spot my purse on the table and scurry toward it, in search of my phone. As I reach it, the door to the deck opens. Relief floods me as a figure steps inside. Though the feeling is quickly crushed when theman comes into focus. Rather than Xander, War is the one who pads through the room, his head down and a hand raking through his dark and unruly hair.

“Is everyone outside?” I frown because it’s clear the deck is empty.

With snowflakes melting in his hair, Tyler stiffens, and his blue eyes go wide with surprise. He’s changed into red-and-green flannel pants in the same pattern as the pajamas I helped Josie into not long ago. With a blink, his eyes go back to their normal cool blue, and he lowers his brow, studying me. “Did you forget something?”

“Uh…” I look around the room. “Apparently my ride?” The words come out harsher than I mean for them to, so I force myself to take a deep breath in and let it back out. “Xander’s not outside on the deck by chance, is he?” Humiliation has my cheeks heating, but I work to keep my voice steady. I will not cry in front of Tyler Warren. He’d never let me live that down.

He stalks closer, though his movements are easy, comfortable. “Everyone left.”

My stomach sinks. “This has to be a mistake. I’m calling Xander.”

With a dismissive shrug, he wanders toward the fireplace.

Hands shaking, I dig my phone from my purse. Once I lift it and the screen illuminates, my unease turns to annoyance. There isn’t a single text or missed call notification waiting for me. Xander really left without a word. I hit his name in my contact list. Rather than ring, the call goes to voicemail. I pull the device away from my face and stare at it, dumbfounded. As I’m blinking, at a loss, a text pops up.

Xander: Out with the guys. Hope you enjoyed playing house with my stepbrother’s kids tonight.

A jolt of shock courses through me. Is he—did he—is this for real?

“He coming back for you?” Tyler asks over his shoulder as he pulls the metal curtain of the fireplace closed.

With a hand to my throat, I zero in on the flames licking up the logs and growing in strength and size. “No—he’s, uh—” I clear my throat and force myself to look at the man across the room. “No, I think we’re over.”

That’s probably putting it mildly. We’re definitely over. There’s no coming back from himleaving meat his freaking brother’s house on Christmas Eve to go out to a bar with his friends. I could ignore the rumors I’ve heard in the past about him going out, but there’s no writing this off as a bad night.

War’s blue eyes widen and practically glow in the firelight. “He left you here?” With a low groan, he pushes to stand, as if the move is painful. He shakes it off quickly and strides across the room, his attention now fixed on my phone. “Did he just break up with you? In a text?” His focus returns to my face, his expression knowing, as if he can read every thought in my head.

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