Page 137 of The Persistence of Thornes
I groan in protest. “I’m so comfy.”
“You’ll be comfier in my bed.”
“Fine.” I fling the covers off.
Before I can even sit up, he scoops me into his arms.
I push against his chest weakly. “I can walk.”
He chuckles, the sound vibrating through me. “I know, baby. But I have to prove to you that I’m strong enough to carry you, since you doubted my capabilities.”
“Show-off,” I mutter as he steps out into the hall.
He toes his door open and then pushes it shut gently with his elbow. Once he’s laid me on the bed, he pulls the covers over top of me.
As tired as I am, I manage to keep my eyes open so I can watch him ditch his shirt and sweatpants before climbing in beside me.
“I know I’m hard to resist”—he loops an arm around me and pulls me in tight—“but no funny business. Just sleep.”
I don’t bother replying, because sleep is already pulling me under.
CHAPTER 34
CALEB
Thanksgiving snuck up on me. Between Casen’s injury, my heavy caseload, and trying to carve out time with Halle, the month has flown by.
Salem and Thayer’s house is filled with a cacophony of voices, clanging dishes, and the upbeat music that goes along with a very interesting competition ofJust Dancein the family room.
I love it.
As a kid, I craved a large family to spend the holidays with. Instead, eachone was lonely—just me and my parents. This chaos? This is what the holidays should be about.
Thelma tries to get in on theJust Dancegame with the kids while Cynthia scolds her about potentially breaking a hip. Laith nurses a beer by the back door, ignoring yet another one of Salem’s attempts to set him up. Salem is yammering on, undeterred, while she flits around the kitchen.
With Samson in one arm, Thayer mixes the mashed potatoes one-handed.
“Let me take over.” I grab the hand mixer and wave him off so he can deal with Samson.
“How are things with you and Halle?” he asks.
For a minute, I’m frozen, wondering whether he’s asking because he’s my friend or because Salem put him up to it.
Truthfully, it still blows my mind that the two of us are friends. I so badly wanted to hate him, but he made it impossible. He’s a genuinely good guy, and it’s obvious he loves Salem and his kids with everything he has.
“Good, really good,” I answer, working the beater around the edges of the bowl.
“It seems pretty serious.”
“It is.” I don’t elaborate, keeping my focus fixed on the potatoes.
“It’s only been a few months.”
The implication there rankles me. Irritation seeping into my veins, I arch a brow in his direction. “How soon after you met Salem did you fall in love with her?”
He nods, head bowed. “Touché.”
Samson wriggles in his arms, demanding to be put down. Thayer obliges and the toddler takes off, no doubt looking for trouble.
