Dahlia O’Sullivan did not do tears. But when her sister Rose wrapped her in a hug in the kitchen of their deceased father’s Montana ranch home, her throat felt suspiciously tight. Maybe pregnancy hormones were contagious. “Thank you for coming,” Rose said in a high, watery voice. Rose’s baby belly was a bumper between them, and Dahlia fought a fresh wave of emotion at the reminder that her little sister was going to be a mother. That she was going to be an aunt. Dahlia squeezed her sister tighter. She still couldn’t quite believe it. Dahlia swallowed hard, but even so, her voice sounded too raspy when she answered, “Always.” Rose’s arms tightened around her like she knew precisely what Dahlia meant.
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