Page 119 of Brace and Chase

There are flower beds by the front windows and a flower wreath hanging on the dark wood front door.

The front lawn has a set of swings that look like they’re actually used regularly, and there’s a mat to wipe your feet that reads, “Home Is Where a Heart Is.”

I remember Charlie saying those exact words to his brothers when they came to visit him in Vegas. He said their grandfather—the oldest Heart—said it to them all their lives.

It seems too perfect to be true.

Too full of love.

Why does that have to be painful for me?

Why can’t it be only a warm sentiment?

The answer comes in the form of a buzz in my jeans the moment I step into the house right behind Beau. I grit my teeth against the urge to break my phone into a million pieces—that won’t do me any good—and then I focus on what really matters. Making sure Charlie’s mom falls absolutely in love with me.

Or at least making her like me enough that she doesn’t cry in horror when Charlie tells her we’re together.

I’d be good with that too.

Helen Heart looks a lot younger than the fifty-two years Charlie told me she’s lived. Her light brown hair is bundled up in a bun on top of her head, and she has an e-reader in her hand as she reaches up to hug Charlie. Even with her eyes closed, I can see the love she has for her oldest child just in the serene smile on her face.

“You had such a good game, honey,” she says with a little cheer in her voice when she steps back. Then her surprisingly blue eyes clash with mine over Charlie’s shoulder, and somehow her smile gets wider.

“Santa,” she cries and pushes Charlie aside so she cando a little run toward me with her arms outstretched, ready to wrap me in them.

I brace myself for her to change her mind and slap me for being mean to her son, but no. She stays true to her course and forces me to bend over when she gets a good grip on my shoulders.

She kisses my cheek noisily then hugs me as well. For a long moment too, not just a quick hug.

I feel the warmth penetrate my very soul then.

A mom hug... It’s always been something I’ve missed.

Closest I’ve gotten has been the few times Gab has hugged me for real, and that only happened when we won the Stanley Cup.

So I try not to beat myself up too much over the sudden dampness in my eyes, and instead I enjoy it.

“Your home is beautiful,” I murmur in her ear, then reluctantly let go of her when she steps back.

“Aren’t you sweet,” she croons and pats my cheek tenderly.

“I apologize for not bringing anything. They didn’t agree to stop so I could buy some flowers.”

Amusement fills her eyes even before I’m finished talking, so I know she saw right through me—I had to try, though.

“Oh, bullshit,” Beau cries from a very cozy-looking living room. “He’s full of pure bullshit, Mom.”

With the amusement firmly in place, she turns to her sons.

“I cannot believe you three. Poor man has come all this way to meet me and you won’t let him get me flowers. I wonder who raised you some days, let me tell you.” Her voice is full of laughter she can’t hide, but she still gives the performance her all by slapping her hands on her hips.

“I knew you were going to be on his side,” Charlie sighs with a shake of his head. “I’ll never be free now.” His words are super casual, but I have to hold my breath.

Is he going to do it now?

I don’t know if I’m ready for that. What if they change their minds about me during dinner? Or tomorrow? What if I say one of those insane things that come into my head and out of my mouth without my control? What if they hate me for how awful I was to Charlie at the start of the?—

“Free of what, honey?” Helen asks with a tilt to her head.

---