His Christmas Redemption. Danica Favorite

Erin. However his anger was only part of the story. The other part was the great love he’d once had for her and not understanding how it could so easily be gone. How she could just walk away from it. And why, as much as she had hurt him, he could still cling to those memories and wish things had turned out differently.

      Dylan handed him the sled. Even though it wouldn’t have been Lance’s first choice, it looked safe enough. Lance glanced over at Erin.

      She gave him a smile and gestured at the hill. “Go on. I don’t know why, but it’s always seemed to me that sledding makes it more Christmassy. We don’t always have enough snow around Christmas, so I’m excited to give the boys a chance.”

      Erin sat on the chair he’d brought out for her then took the camera from around her neck and held it up. “Leah will be sad to have missed it, but I’ll get some great pictures for her.”

      When they’d been married, Erin had often told him that a picture couldn’t replace being there. She’d been angry with him for all the time he’d spent at work. In their fights leading up to the divorce, she’d mentioned it more than once. Their daughter had just died and she’d wanted to rub it in about all the things he’d missed.

      Maybe she was right. But he’d been doing his best, trying to provide a life for their family. He’d always thought that as the business grew, and Lily got older, it would be easier to take the time off that he needed. He just hadn’t counted on not having the opportunity to watch his daughter grow up. He’d never thought that the someday he’d been counting on wouldn’t ever come.

      He swallowed the lump in his throat and looked at the boys. They had picked up some snow and were tossing small snowballs at each other.

      Erin must have sensed where his attention had gone. “It’s okay. We’ve talked to the boys about safety and they know it’s okay to throw snowballs, as long as they’re little ones and you have the other person’s permission.”

      She sounded so prim as she spoke, the great rule enforcer. But the two of them had gotten into enough snowball fights of their own that Lance knew Erin didn’t always fight fair.

      He bent and picked up a little bit of snow, carefully shaping it into a ball as he walked toward her.

      “Don’t tell me that’s for me,” she said, looking at him sternly. “You wouldn’t harm a poor, defenseless woman, would you?”

      He grinned. “That’s never stopped you before.”

      Erin glanced over at the boys. “That was in the past. And my sisters and I have agreed that all our snowball fights would be fair.”

      Lance could attest to the sheer brutality of their competitiveness when it came to games and things like snowball fights. That was odd, considering how well they all got along otherwise. If the brothers took after the sisters, Lance could see why they would need to institute rules on fairness.

      “But I’m not your sister,” he said, coming closer.

      “You wouldn’t dare.”

      Until that moment he hadn’t been planning on using the snowball against her. But there was something about the gleam in her eyes that felt like an irresistible dare.

      He tossed the snowball in her direction. It hit her square in the chest.

      Erin jumped up. “You’re going to regret that.”

      She hobbled over to the porch railing and grabbed some of the snow that was still there. It was good snow. The soft, fluffy kind that made for easy packing. It would have been easy to walk away, or at least to dodge her attack. But it had been a long time since Lance had seen that look in her eyes and he’d be a fool if he didn’t admit that it was one of the most beautiful things he’d seen in a long time. It wasn’t that Erin was pretty. Because pretty wasn’t the right word for her. There was something strong, fierce and incredibly awe-inspiring in her eyes. The expression was what had attracted him to Erin in the first place, because he knew that if you were fortunate enough to have the love of a woman like that, you had more than most men ever dreamed of.

      A snowball hit him smack in the face.

      That was a good reminder of the downside to loving a woman like Erin.

      Lance picked up another handful of snow. Erin scooped more from the railing.

      “Do you really want to do this?” she asked. “Because I will win.”

      Snowballs went sailing at the same time and while Erin’s hit him square in the chest, his missed.

      “You still want to mess with me?” she asked.

      “Uncle Lance!” Dylan came running to him. “When we were in the house getting ready, you said we couldn’t get Aunt Erin. The snow will hurt her cast.”

      Ryan followed his brother. “You can’t get Auntie!”

      The boys both picked up snow and made snowballs that they tossed directly at Lance.

      The snow hit Lance with a resounding thud. Erin laughed. “That’s what you get for breaking the rules.”

      Lance shook his head as he brushed the snow off. “I can definitely see where I didn’t think that idea through well enough.”

      “You should say you’re sorry and give her a hug,” Dylan said, looking at him sternly.

      When he looked at Erin, she was still wiping tears of mirth from her eyes and Lance didn’t think she’d heard the little boy.

      “I don’t think that’s a good idea, buddy,” Lance said.

      Innocent eyes looked up at him. “Why not? Mom says hugs are always a good idea,” Dylan said. Then Dylan frowned. “Unless the person doesn’t want a hug, and then you should respect their wishes. But auntie loves hugs.”

      As if his lecture settled the matter, both Dylan and Ryan ran to Erin and hugged her. Erin smiled as she looked over their heads at him. “I do love hugs,” she said. “But we don’t have to if it makes you uncomfortable. At least now you know that we take our rules very seriously here, and you shouldn’t even think about messing with me.”

      Her tone was light and there was understanding in her eyes. He’d been trying to have fun, they both had, but it was amazing how even the smallest things became difficult reminders of their complicated past. Maybe, even though it seemed like they were both trying to move forward, making peace wasn’t as easy as his therapist had led him to believe.

      So what did peace look like? What did it mean to come to terms with both their daughter’s death and their divorce?

      Maybe, as the boys ran back to their sled, it wasn’t a question they needed to settle right this very minute.

      Lance grinned at Erin. “I will be expecting a rematch once you’re healed.”

      “You’re on,” she said, laughing.

      That was the other thing he’d loved, and missed, about Erin. Her laugh. She had one of the most beautiful, most contagious, laughs of anyone he’d ever met. The kind that made you feel absolutely comfortable and at ease because you knew she was laughing with you, not at you.

      “Uncle Lance!” Dylan held up the sled.

      “Go,” Erin said. “The boys have been really excited about today. I’ve been promising them for weeks that as soon as we got a good snow, we’d go sledding.”

      And every day since her accident, she’d put them off. Or rather, he’d put them off. As he jogged over to the boys, he realized he’d been working hard at keeping his distance, trying not to let how they had so easily taken to calling him “Uncle Lance” or how they automatically included him in everything, be caught in his heart.

      Was there a way for him to maintain a relationship with them once he left? He took the sled from Dylan and carried it the rest of the way up the hill. It wasn’t much of a hill, just a gentle, sloping space that would