Daphne had died in her forties. She’d gotten nowhere near this woman’s age.

But she passed looking fifteen years younger.

Of course, that was, she looked that way before the cancer ate her away. She just looked fifteen years younger than another woman in her forties would look after being ravaged by that dread disease.

“Sierra—” I snapped.

“I didn’t know how to be a wife,” she went on fast, folding her hands over her breastbone beseechingly and leaning slightly toward me. “I didn’t know how to be a mother. No. I especially didn’t know how to be a mother. I was terrified I’d hurt them. I was terrified I’d ruin them like my parents ruined me.”

“Are you listening to me at all?” I bit out.

“I left for their own good,” she said desperately. “I left so Lance could find someone better than me to raise my own boys. I need them to understand that. Now that they’re grown, whole, good men with good women in their lives and bright futures, I need them to understand.”

With that, I lost it.

“Okay, even if I gave a shit what you had to say, which I don’t, I do not have time to listen to it right now. For God’s sake, are you so self-absorbed you can’t see I just got off shift, it’s Christmas Eve, I’ve got a baby, a man, and I told you I have people at my home right now? Not to mention you showed out of the blue and Shanghaied my guy last night, and I’ve been working all day so I haven’t been able to take his pulse. So my now is not about you. It has nothing to do with you except it being slightly about the mess you’ve made. So get out of my goddamned way.”

“Can you imagine, for his own good, missing your own boy growing up? Becoming a man?” she asked.

“I can imagine slapping you across the face,” I bit out.

She blinked and leaned back.

“This does not surprise me in the least,” I hissed. “You’re pathologically self-absorbed. You do not give a shit you pulled what you pulled with Toby last night. You do not give a shit it’s Christmas Eve and I haven’t seen my kid in over twenty-four hours and I wanna see him, give him a snuggle, put work behind me and enjoy my holiday. All you care about is you. So no, Sierra. I will not convince my man and his brother to sit down and listen to you. And I’ll tell you something else, if you get anywhere near either of them, I will hurt you. I don’t know how I’ll do it, but how I do it, I’ll make it last. Now get away from my fucking car!”

I ended on a shriek.

She moved away from my car.

I got in it, started it up, checked my mirrors, looked behind me and peeled the fuck out.

I did not process the fact that in peeling out, I noticed we’d had an audience.

I just headed home.

When I got on the road, I called Toby.

He did not answer.

This was not a surprise. He was playing host to fourteen people at my house while I drove.

I still chanted, “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

I disconnected with him and tried Izzy.

She answered, thank God.

“Addie?”

“Yeah, honey, I’m on my way to the acres right now. I’ll be there in ten minutes. Is everything okay?”

“Drive safe.” She hesitated then finished, “But drive fast.”

What?

“What’s going on?” I asked.

“Tell you when you get here. Hurry, doll.”

“Is it bad?”

“Yes, Addie. It’s bad.”

Shit.

“Did Sierra get to Johnny? Margot?”

“Just come home.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

That goddamned woman.

“Be there soon, Iz.”

“Okay, baby. Love you. Love you a lot.”

Oh God.

“Love you too.”

We disconnected, and I drove safe but as fast as I could go.

I did not think it boded well that when I turned into the acres, I saw Toby’s truck, Johnny’s truck, but Dave’s truck nor Margot’s car, nor any other vehicles were in the drive.

The Christmas lights were lit, glowing merrily, and the tree in the window twinkled gaily (though I’d noted well before that Margot was right, it needed to go a little to the left).

But the dining room light at the front was not on, and with a ton of people in the house, that space would be needed. I could see the kitchen lights at the back on, coming from the side windows.

Nothing upstairs.

Other than that, just the family room.

I parked, cut the ignition, grabbed my bag and hauled ass.

When I hit the foyer, Izzy was coming out of the family room.

I heard no happy party noises of people eating, drinking and bustling in the joyful holiday.

I didn’t even hear any Christmas music, and Toby was supposed to be on that.

I just saw Izzy’s face.

And I stopped dead.

“Where’s Brooks?” I asked.

She was coming my way, but she tipped her head to the side toward the family room.

“In with the men. He’s fine, Addie. Perfectly fine.”

She was talking quiet.

“Where is everyone?” I queried.

She stopped in front of me, reached out and grabbed both my hands.

It was then I saw the tears shimmering in her eyes.

OhmyGodohmyGodohmyGod.

My fingers spasmed around hers.

“Talk to me,” I begged in a whisper.

“Margot has cancer,” she whispered back.

OhmyGodohmyGodohmyGod.

“Toby wanted to tell you, but he’s . . . he’s . . .” She shook her head. “They’ve both taken it really hard.”

Why all their sons were here for Christmas.

Why Dave was in a terrible mood.

Why we needed to have everything sorted for Izzy’s wedding way before it actually needed to be sorted.

“They . . . because of Mom, I talked them into letting me tell you,” she said.

I stood still, holding her hands, staring at her face.

“She wasn’t going to tell them until after the holiday,” Izzy continued. “But she told Lance and Dave Junior last night. They were . . . Johnny told me they were destroyed,” she shared. “Couldn’t hide it. It came out.”

They were destroyed.

Cancer could be beat.

Except some of it.

That my sister and I knew all too well.

And her sons were destroyed.

OhGodohGodohGod.

I took one hand from hers and slid it along her cheek, getting close.

“How are you?” I whispered.

A tear fell from her eye.

She didn’t have to answer.

But she said, “Devastated.”

I slid my hand back into her hair and pulled her forehead to mine.

We stood there, my hand in her hair, our hands clutching each other’s, stared into each other’s eyes and breathed deep.

Then abruptly, I let her go, ran down the hall and into the family room.

I skidded to a halt when I got there.

Johnny was ass to the edge of the seat in the armchair, turned toward Toby.

Toby was in the couch, his back to me.

“Baby,” I called.

Toby twisted. Both men looked to me and both men rose.

Toby was holding Brooks.

Brooks was quiet, and I could tell, fretting.

He felt the vibe.