Page 84 of Dirty Puck

I’d caught her dozing once or twice, but she always woke with a kind word.“You made this, Bree. All of this.”

Pap—Jaycee’s grandfather—sat at the head of the table like some charming, storytelling patriarch, holding court with his sweet girlfriend, Gina, laughing at all his jokes. Grant’s sister and her husband brought green bean casserole and chaos, because within minutes of arriving, her daughters had glitter all over my couch cushions and half a can of whipped cream in their mouths. Hence the tag outside.

Miss Claudia moved through the house like a gentle hurricane—smiling, directing traffic, lifting hot dishes with oven mitts that had seen decades of celebrations. Every now and then, she’d tug Benny and LJ outside for a reset. Photos popped up on my phone—just the three of them, sitting in the sun by the dunes while the tide whispered to the shore.

I peeked out at them more than once. Benny’s curls fluttered in the wind. Claudia’s hands rested lightly on his shoulders while LJ traced patterns in the sand with a stick.

Inside, the men gathered around the TV snacking on bowls of chips, relish trays, and other hors d'oeuvres shouting over the game and good-naturedly heckling each other. Reece wandered back into the kitchen at one point with a sausage roll in his mouth and a beer in his hand, pressing a kiss to the side of my head as he passed.

“You good?” he asked.

I nodded. “It’s chaotic.”

He grinned. “It’s perfect.”

It was.

It really, truly was.

And when we all finally sat down—some at the table,some at the counter, kids tucked on laps and folding chairs—we all looked to the host.

Reece stood to say something. He cleared his throat and fidgeted like he was about to take a face-off. Goalie, remember? They never faced off.

“I don’t really do speeches,” he said, eyes flicking to his mom.

She smiled, hands folded in her lap, her son’s features written all over her face.

“But this… this is the kind of thing I didn’t know I needed until I had it. First, I want to say ‘thank you’ to Jaycee for jumping in to help pull today off.” We all cheered for Jaycee and her face blushed the sweetest pink. “Next,” he continued over the noise, “I’d like to thank the rest of you for deciding to spend your holiday with us.”

We got back responses like “It’s been great” and “Have to do it again” from guests around the room.

“But lastly,” Reece captured their attention again. “I want to say that none of us would be here together without Bree making it happen.” He looked at me then. “You gave us this. You gavemethis. So thank you. And Happy Thanksgiving.”

Glasses clinked. Kids giggled. Someone—probably Antonov—shouted“To Bree!”and I nearly burst into tears right there with a spoonful of dressing in my hand.

Char didn’t eat much, but she sat with us the whole time. Just watching. Soaking it all in. Her smile never once faded, even as her eyelids grew heavy and Miss Claudia gently wheeled her toward her room for a rest.

Later that night, after everyone had left and the dishes were soaking and the leftovers were packed, I stood in the doorway of Benny’s room and watched him sleep—arms around his favorite truck, worn out and happy.

Reece came up behind me, wrapped his arms around my waist, and rested his chin on my shoulder.

“This was a good day,” he said.

“They keep getting better.”

And they did. Chaos and crumbs and kids and all.

They just kept getting better.

CHAPTER

SEVENTEEN

REECE

Iwoke up to the smell of coffee and something sweet—maybe the leftover apple pie reheating—and the faint sound of Benny laughing downstairs.

The kind of morning that made a man want to stay in bed just a little longer.

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