Chapter 29
Twenty-Nine
Colter
Gibson Sibling Group Chat (minus Colter)
Bodie:
So are we all pretending we didn’t just witness that?
Gunner:
Witness what?
Bodie:
Our brother. The one who swore off relationships after the Lisa situation. Looking at Swayze like she hung the moon.
Fletcher:
Oh THAT.
Alia:
He’s completely gone for her.
Dean:
Been saying it since Christmas. He got up and publicly performed a boy band love song for her.
Blair:
Since Christmas? Try Thanksgiving. The man carried her out of a burning building and hasn’t looked at another woman since.
Hutton:
I wondered if there was something serious after that kiss.
Everly:
I’m crying. I genuinely never thought this would happen for him.
Gunner:
He’s been so focused on Oakleigh for so long.
Fletcher:
And being everyone’s go-to guy when anything needs fixing.
Alia:
He deserves this. He deserves someone who sees HIM.
Dean:
And she does. You see how she looks at him?
Blair:
Like he’s the only person in the room. Every single time. :sigh:
Hutton:
When’s the wedding? I need to plan my schedule around the tour.
Bodie:
Slow down there, Hut.
Everly:
No no, she’s got a point. Colt is ALL IN, and we have insane schedules. No way do we want to miss this.
Alia:
Agreed. I give it six months before he proposes.
Gunner:
I’m taking that bet. Three months.
Blair:
I’m keeping the books.
The rich, savory scent of Grandma Elsie’s pot roast hit me the second I opened the front door, making my mouth water. I pressed a hand to the small of Swayze’s back, nudging her inside.
She slipped off her coat. “Something smells amazing.”
“Wait until you taste it.”
Gunner’s truck rumbled into the driveway behind us, doors slamming as he and Dean piled out. Uncle Dee was already inside, having beaten us all here somehow, despite leaving rehearsal at the same time. I wasn’t putting teleportation past him.
The house buzzed with noise and bodies. Bodie stood near the kitchen doorway with Emmaline tucked against his side, one protective hand splayed across the curve of her belly.
Alia perched on the arm of Ramsey’s chair, their fingers loosely intertwined.
Blair gestured wildly with her hands, while her wife, Elena, laughed beside her.
Lisa and Faith had claimed spots near the window.
Oakleigh wrestled with Ludo and Fletcher’s dog, Gouda, while Fletcher himself looked on from his usual chair, with Alia’s mini Dachshund, Biscuit, perched in his lap, surveying the match as if she had money riding on it.
Dad surveyed the chaos from one end of the sofa with the satisfied expression of a man who’d helped create most of it.
Swayze hung back a fraction, and I recognized that moment of hesitation—the slight widening of her eyes as she took in the sheer volume of Gibsons and honorary Gibsons crammed into one space.
I leaned close to her ear. “You’ll get used to it.”
“Will I, though?”
“Eventually.”
Grandma Elsie swept out of the kitchen, carrying a massive vat of mashed potatoes that should’ve required two people to lift. “Colter, get your girl a plate before your brothers eat everything.”
My girl. Yeah, I liked the sound of that.
We headed up the controlled chaos of the buffet line Grandma had set up along the counter. Pot roast, glazed carrots, green beans, those mashed potatoes, and fresh rolls still steaming from the oven. Swayze loaded her plate with an enthusiasm that made me grin.
She caught me watching. “What?”
“Nothing. Just glad you’re not one of those people who pretends they don’t eat.”
“Are you kidding? I have been dancing for the past four hours. Besides, I would fight someone for these rolls.”
We squeezed into spots at the table—me between Swayze and Dean, who immediately started giving me grief about something I’d said at rehearsal. The conversation flowed and ebbed in the familiar rhythm of family dinners, voices overlapping, laughter erupting at random intervals.
Grandma Elsie tapped her water glass with her fork. “Before we all get too comfortable, I believe someone has news to share.”
All eyes swiveled to Bodie and Emmaline.
Bodie cleared his throat, his hand tightening on Emmaline’s shoulder. She looked radiant despite the exhaustion shadowing her eyes, her hand resting on the unmistakable swell of her belly beneath her sweater.
“How are you feeling, honey?” Grandma asked. “I know the morning sickness has been rough.”
“Brutal,” Emmaline admitted. “But apparently there’s a reason for that.”
Bodie’s mouth curved into a smile I’d rarely seen on my brother’s face—pure, unfiltered joy mixed with bone-deep terror. “Turns out we’re having twins.”
The room exploded.
Blair shrieked. Alia’s hands flew to her mouth.
Dean whooped and slammed his palm on the table hard enough to rattle the dishes.
Grandma Elsie pressed both hands to her chest, eyes shining.
Dad’s face did something complicated—pride and wonder and maybe a flash of grief for Mom, who should’ve been here for this.
“Twins!” Fletcher repeated, shaking his head. “Man, you don’t do anything halfway, do you?”
“Apparently not.” Bodie’s ears had gone red, but he couldn’t stop grinning.
Ramsey reached across the table to clasp Emmaline’s hand, but his eyes were on Bodie. “Congratulations, brother.”
“Two more Gibsons,” Uncle Dee declared, raising his glass. “Lord help us all.”
“Amen to that,” Dad rumbled, but his voice cracked around the edges.
We all raised our glasses in a toast, and I couldn’t stop myself from reaching out to grasp Swayze’s free hand beneath the table. Her fingers laced with mine and squeezed. My throat went tight.
I wanted what Bodie and Emmaline had.
I loved Oakleigh with all my heart, and wouldn’t have traded her for the world.
But I wanted more children. Wanted a bigger family.
I wanted to go through all of it again as a fully stable, grown ass adult who was ready this time.
And I wanted to do it with a woman who wanted me and that life as much as I did.
Swayze and I hadn’t talked about the future.
Not even in hypotheticals. We were too new.
I didn’t know what she really wanted or if our lives were compatible long term.
But somehow, it felt right that she be here for this next big phase in our family.
And maybe it was past time for me to admit to myself that I saw her as being here for all the next big phases.
The conversation shifted naturally as plates emptied, and second helpings disappeared. Uncle Dee launched into a dramatic retelling of Adalyn’s latest mishap at rehearsal—something about a prop malfunction and Dean nearly getting brained by a flying oar.
“It wasn’t an accident,” Dean muttered. “The woman hates my guts.”
“You haven’t exactly been Mr. Charm with her, either,” Gunner pointed out.
“My character isn’t a charming kind of guy.”
“Doesn’t change the fact that the two of you spark during your number,” Uncle Dee said.
Dean’s expression darkened in a way that made me wonder if there was more history between him and Adalyn than I knew. She’d moved to Gibson Hollow in the ninth grade, I thought. Same class as Dean. But that had been right after Mama died, so if anything had happened, in all my grief, I’d missed it.
Evidently sensing that the conversation was about to go off the rails, Swayze stole a roll from my plate. “The choreography is coming together, though. Your family has rhythm. I wasn’t sure at first, but you can all actually move.”
“Don’t sound so surprised,” Dean protested.
“I’ve seen a lot of people who can’t walk and chew gum at the same time try to dance. You’d be amazed.”
Fletcher wiped his mouth with his napkin. “Speaking of progress, the gut-job on the interior of the library is finally done. We’re ahead of schedule, which never happens. We start framing up the new layout this week.”
“That’s fantastic,” Grandma Elsie said. “The temporary setup in the bus is working, but it’ll be nice to have a real space again.”
“And the fundraiser will help with restoring the actual collections,” Uncle Dee added. “Every ticket sold gets us closer.”
Dad pushed back from the table with a groan. “All right, who’s on cleanup?”
“Rock, paper, scissors!” Oakleigh announced, bouncing to her feet. “Losers do dishes.”
What followed was organized chaos as everyone threw their hands in, eliminating players round by round until Blair, Dean, and Ramsey were left glaring at their losing fists.
“This is rigged,” Blair muttered.
“You just have terrible strategy,” Bodie said, already stacking plates.
We cleared the table in the efficient way that came from years of practice, ferrying dishes to the kitchen where the losers started filling the sink. The rest of us filtered back toward the living room.
Oakleigh appeared in the doorway, arms full of Nerf guns, eyes gleaming with bloodlust. “Okay, everyone grab a weapon. We’re doing teams.”
“Kid, I just ate my weight in pot roast,” Gunner groaned.
“Yeah, can we do this before dinner next time?” I added.
“No mercy!” Oakleigh let out a war cry that would’ve made a Viking proud and fired directly at us.
The foam dart hit me square in the chest. I clutched at it dramatically and staggered. “I’m out. Fatally wounded.”
“That was fast,” Swayze said, snatching up a gun.
“Self-preservation.”
She grinned and disappeared around the corner as Oakleigh rallied her troops. Shouts and laughter erupted through the house. I claimed the armchair in the corner, settling in to watch.
Swayze dove behind the couch, popping up to fire at Fletcher. Her face lit with the same fierce joy I’d seen during rehearsals. No hesitation. No holding back. Just pure, unfiltered presence.
My chest warmed.
Yeah. I was in trouble.
Bodie wandered over to join me. A couple of beers dangled from his fingers, condensation beading on the glass bottles. He offered one to me without a word.