Page 127 of True North

He burns, I burn.

Hauling air in through clenched teeth, he falters backward and hits the bench. His legs buckle and I lunge for him, doing my best to hold him up. Grappling at his face, I try to rid his face of the tears streaming over his cheeks. He chokes, slumping against the lower shelf of the bench.

“No, you didn’t do anything wrong. Harry.” I’m shaking my head so fiercely, tears fly from my chin and soak into his jacket. “You hear me. Your parents made their own choices. Your father?—”

Deep blues lift to my face.

“He was a monster.” A faraway look descends over his gaze. “I should have done it. I should have saved her.”

“Then you and I would be having this conversation through plate glass,” I say, tilting my head, giving him a wry smile. The best I can force right now. Nowhere good enough for the pain he is in.

His breathing settles, and I shift onto his lap. Sliding my hands beneath his jacket, I huddle into his chest for warmth. With the tension dissipating, the chill is relentless, finding us instantly.

“You’d still be around if I went to prison, Lou?”

I huff a strangled laugh. “I don’t think I have any choice at this point.”

I lift my head to give him a cheeky smile.

His mouth comes down to mine before my lips even have the chance to tip up. Hands moving up his chest, I let my fingers travel over the pounding pulse points in his neck. Closing my palms over his jaw, I open for him.

Like I ever had a choice.

Dizzy from his heat, his kiss, I break away. His forehead rests against my own. We breathe heavily, the air from our lungs mingling like we could never be untangled ever again.

“Since we’re makin’ the most of things,” Harry says, but swallows hard. “I want to name the ranch after Ma.”

I nod, and the tears prickle the bridge of my nose again.

I couldn’t think of a more fitting sentiment.

“What are you thinkin’ we should call it, then?” I ask.

“Rosie’s Ranch?”

I scrunch my nose up, and he loses a strained chuckle.

God, the sound is like coming up for air after the last hour.

“No, my love. That’s not it.”

“Alright, Captain, what do you think we should call it?” He raises a single brow.

I let my attention wander around the old, weathered barn, like the words will reveal themselves. It finally snags on the two sagging wooden doors. The tight grain of the hardwood that has stood the test of time speaks to me.

“Rosewood,” I breathe.

Harry’s gaze tracks to where mine stays stuck. “I like it. Rosewood Ranch.”

“You’re going to need a new sign,” I say, shifting my focus back to those deep blues I love.

“Weare gonna need a new sign.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Louisa May, you were right the first time.”

“I don’t understand...”

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