Page 168 of Wildest Forever

“Who would like a glass?” I ask and the quiet chatter simmers down to silence.

Everyone raises their glasses, all but Dixie, and I fill glasses. Some with red, some with white.

Morgan has cooked up a whole roast chicken, creamed potatoes, vegetables, a red wine jus and bread rolls.

My stomach rumbles and I cannot wait to dive in.

“Who would like to say grace?” Morgan says sweetly, her eyes dancing around the room. Orla stares at Riggs and I know she is silently asking him to volunteer.

I clear my throat, ready to speak but Riggs raises his hand slightly.

“I'll do it,” he shuffles in his seat and Aspen gives him a tight smile. He bows his head and everyone follows suit. I sneak a look, and his eyes are drifting between mine and Tripp. We're the only ones who don't have our eyes closed and we both wait until Riggs closes his eyes before we close ours.

“We're thankful for the food laid on the table, thankful that Morgan has spent the afternoon in the kitchen cooking and preparing to entertain us...” he trails off for a moment and I flutter my lashes open and see him shuffling in his seat.

“Lord, please protect my family, please keep us wrapped in your arms as we navigate through the next few days...” and my heart jack hammers in my chest, “please bless us as we prepare to fight one of the hardest wars of our life, to protect my family, to protect our land, to protect our legacy.”

I side eye Tripp and he gives me an awkward shrug.

“I know I am asking a lot of you, and I know I am a man who doesn't pray and ask for your guidance, but I know you would never turn me away when I asked upon you.” His voice trembles for just a moment but he styles it out with a light cough.

“Amen,” and when his eyes open, everyone is looking at him.

“Riggs?” ma says, worry etched into her face and I inhale sharply, sitting tall in my chair as Morgan's eyes cast to mine.

“We're going to war ma,” he says softly, and I watch as the girls faces turn to their partners, but not mom's. Her eyes are firmly on the oldest son.

She drops her head and begins to pray.

Morgan slips her hand across the table, and I dip my fingers between her thumb and index and give it a tight squeeze.

“I promise,” I lean across and lower my gaze to hers, “we will end this war, once and for all.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

MORGAN

We fall into light chatter and the tension is thick. I trust Pacey and I know him and his brothers wouldn't be doing this for fun... but he is right. The war needs to end. The war for land, the war for legacies that have been running for decades, the war to take something that isn't theirs.

Billionaires rock up to most remote places and want to tear down the nature around them just to replace it with a concrete city.

But for us, they want to build a ski slope and holiday village.

Orla is trying her best to put on a brave face, but every once in a while, I see her facade slip and the worry etches itself deep into her face.

My own worry teeters on the edge, pushing me that bit closer to be having a wobble but I remind myself he will be okay. They all will.

“I just want to say,” Aspen speaks up and everyone turns in her direction, “this food is delicious,” she licks her lips and reaches for her wine, holding it towards me.“To Morgan,” she chimes and everyone, including myself reaches for their glass and toasts the middle of the table.

“And...” Pacey sweeps in, his hand reaching for mine as he covers it, giving me a reassuring squeeze, “to family.”

My smile grows as I look at him, holding my glass towards his before we all meet our glasses into the middle of the table.

“To family,” everyone echoes.

Clearing dinner away, Aspen is on dish duty, Dixie is drying and I am scraping waste into the compost bin. Orla is tucked away in the back room with her sons, Lainey is napping in her travel crib and we're all trying to make conversation when in truth, all we want to know is what the hell is going on.

“It's going to be bad isn't it...” I trail off as I lean back and see if I can hear any movement.

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