Chapter Eighteen
Boone
At some point along the drive back to Stolen Hearts Valley, I glanced sideways. Grace’s head was thrown back in a laugh. I wanted to freeze-frame that moment.
During the years my father had been sick, I’d learned how to compartmentalize. That ability served me well as a first responder. I could set my feelings aside, almost like putting them on a shelf to deal with when I had more emotional stamina.
I hadn’t realized I’d been doing that very thing ever since I’d overheard the conversation between Grace and the receptionist, weeks ago now at the doctor’s office. Although that interaction had served as the flashpoint to get me to finally stop giving Grace space—and for that, I would be forever grateful—I hadn’t even allowed myself to contemplate how much concern I
