Page 132 of At the Edge of Surrender

Ensure that this would be a safe place for Maci because none of this was about me.

I’d be gone in three weeks, and my niece would be…

I gave a harsh shake of my head and pinned on a smile.

“You’re the one who painted Maci’s room?” I attempted around the chaos ravaging my insides.

“Well, Charleigh, Otto, Kane, and I did. Both rooms. Plus, we did a little bit of shopping.” She gave me a wink as she looked at the shirt I was wearing that I’d found in my drawer, along with a ton of other adorable items.

Disbelief pulled through me again, though there was a tenderness invading it. “How in the world did you manage to pull that off in one night?” I asked.

Raven touched an innocent hand to her chest. “Um, let’s go back to what I told you in the beginning. I’m crazy amazing.”

Charleigh giggled as she filled the glass from an ice bucket. “You notice she’s already cut me out of thatteamshe was bragging about a second ago?”

Raven hooked a thumb at Charleigh. “She wanted to paint your room pink. Can you imagine?”

“Hey, pink is my favorite color,” Charleigh defended.

“Keep it to those panties I know you’re always prancing around in front of my brother in,” Raven sang.

“Well, it turns out pink is River’s favorite color, too, so...” Charleigh shrugged.

I choked over a laugh.

I didn’t stand a chance against these two.

Because an ease took me over.

Swept me up in the comfort and care they exuded.

“Okay, tell me your favorite beverage.” Charleigh lifted the glass, the ice clinking against the sides.

“I’m pretty sure she needs a very strong margarita,” Raven supplied, as if she could feel my nerves.

“A margarita might be nice,” I admitted on a wispy breath.

Raven squeezed my hand tighter. In an instant, the playfulness was completely eradicated. “This has to be the absolute worst situation for you, Emery. I can’t imagine the pain of losing your sister that way.”

Except, I thought maybe she could. Thought she might know exactly what it was like to have someone you cared about most ripped from you. Because there was no missing the ghosts that writhed in the depths of her dark, dark eyes.

The stark empathy she held.

Her words so genuine it brought a trembling knot to the base of my throat.

She squeezed my hand even firmer, her voice dropping as her head inclined to the side. “But you should know that Kane is a good man. I mean, he’s made mistakes like the rest of us, and he can come across as…intense,” she seemed to settle on.

Terrifying.

Intimidating.

And somehow so attentive and supportive that he made my knees weak.

Her eyes pinched at the corners, emphasis laden in the words. “But that man would lay down his life for a stranger, so you can bet he’s going to give everything he is to that little girl.”

Emotion clawed at my heart.

Spikes of contradiction.

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