Page 28 of Knotty, Nice, & Holiday Lights
Will is frozen in place, his gaze full of concern and steady on me.
I need to… do something. Anything.
A nervous laugh peels from my throat. “S-sorry,” I tell him. “I… I think I’m still a little off-kilter from the phone call with my parents.” I let my genuine shame show on my face and wince. “I don’t want them to know I was fired.”
Will’s whole demeanor changes, his rigid posture relaxing as he gives me a killer smile, those eyes filled with kindness. “I’m sure that things will get better before you know it. Maybe the next time you talk to your family, you’ll be able to give them great news.”
His positive attitude makes me smile back. I certainly hope he’s right.
“What can I do to help?”
Will puts me to work, prepping a basket with a couple of towels so it’s ready for the homemade dinner rolls baking in one of the ovens. Once Will tells Asher and me that Matthew is expected in about an hour, we get to work setting the dining room table. When we finish, the table is decorated with cloth turkeys and fake autumn leaves atop an autumn-themed runner down the center.
I grin at Asher. “You really have a knack for decorating.”
His dark eyes blink at me before he smiles and chuckles. “It’s a passion of mine.”
When the door buzzer sounds, I hop up and down once. “I’ll get it!”
I swing open the door, letting in a whoosh of cold air, and revealing Matthew on the front step. His cheeks are rosy, as is the tip of his nose, his hair just a bit mussed from the walk.
He looks a little embarrassed. “I figured I’d ring the bell this time so I didn’t scare anyone.”
I step aside to let him in with a, “Happy Thanksgiving!” and realize he’s hauling bags with him, some glass clinking.
“I’m early,” he says, brushing me off when I try to grab the bags from one of his hands, but noticing that he has noissue letting Asher take some when he approaches, nodding in greeting.
We place his bags on an empty space on the kitchen table before I take Matthew to the communal coat closet beside the front desk, where he removes his coat and scarf to hang them up. When he turns back to me, my breath catches in my throat.
“You wore it,” I breathe.
He’s donning a sweater with a collared shirt beneath, the sweater made of an array of browns, golds, and greens that match his eyes. A gift I gave him on the last Christmas we spent together.
The look on his face is so serious that worry washes over me, and I instinctively take a step toward him.
“This sweater has always meant a lot to me.” His large hand gently takes one of mine in its grasp, those fingers gliding along my skin. He lowers his voice. “I’m not okay, Iz. Not yet. But I’m working on it. I swear.”
The worry in my chest subsides, replaced by this strange coziness. Something comforting and positive.
Could it be hope?
Chapter Eighteen
We all sit at the dining room table, two-by-two at the center, none of us sitting at either end. Asher is beside me on one side, Matthew and Izzy across from us. The spread of food is mouthwatering, if I say so myself.
I took Matthew’s advice on how to prepare the turkey and mashed potatoes, with extra roasted garlic and butter, and every time she bites into the food, there’s this moan she emits that makes my heart race.
And it’s obvious I’m not the only one affected by the looks on both Asher and Matthew’s faces when their gazes snap to Izzy.
Last year, Asher and I spent Thanksgiving together as pack brothers, and I had never been so happy. Not since my parents died.
Before last year, my friend Vaughn and his family had insisted on me spending the holidays with them. I’m ashamed to admit that I never took them up on their offer, nearly hiding away here, alone. Lying, because I’d told them I had guests who were staying in and I needed to host.
I didn’t lie about the guests, but none of them stayed in for Thanksgiving or Christmas.
As I look around the table at the jovial faces, a strange combination of joy and sorrow overtakes me.
This is supposed to be my pack. No, itismy pack. Each one of them. But we’re not official in any capacity, and I don’t even know if Izzy realizes what we are. Asher had told me Matthew does, but he’s resistant for whatever reasons he’s keeping to himself.
