Chapter 14
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
VANCE
The Edens were loud.
Not just in volume—though Lyla’s family laughed like there was a decibel quota to meet over dinner. They were loud in other ways. Their smiles. Their hugs. Their love.
It had been a long time since I’d been to a Sutter family dinner. Maybe my memory was failing me, but the only time I recalled my family being loud was the very last dinner. The one where everything had fallen apart. Not a good loud.
The Edens were a good loud.
Anne and Harrison sat on opposite ends of the dining room table and, between them, their children and grandchildren.
The table itself, a smooth, black walnut piece with matching chairs, was new. It lacked the dents and dings of furniture that had seen more than a handful of family functions. It was slightly too large for the space, but that was likely because it had been bought with this crush of people in mind.
A large family needed a large table. Even if it was crowded, Anne and Harrison probably wanted each person here to have a seat. They’d even made space for the little ones and their high chairs.
No surprise, Lyla’s parents were good people. Anne had welcomed me with a hug. Harrison with a firm handshake. And then Lyla’s siblings had descended, nosy but not intrusive.
They’d asked questions but hadn’t pried into my personal life. Instead, they’d learned tonight that I preferred whiskey over beer. That I liked my steaks medium rare. And that my favorite color was blue.
Lyla’s blue.
Though I hadn’t been that specific when Eloise had asked a few moments ago.
“Blue would have been a good color choice,” Knox said.
“I didn’t want blue.” Anne jutted up her chin. “I wanted yellow.”
“But it’s not yellow, Mom.”
“Of course it’s yellow.” Anne had recently painted the powder room down the hall. Tonight was the first anyone but Harrison had seen it. “The color is called mustard. Mustard is yellow.”
“It looks like baby poop,” Griffin said.
“Griff,” Winn scolded.
“What? It does.”
“It’s not the color of baby poop.” Anne harrumphed, then adjusted Griff and Winn’s daughter, Emma, on her lap. “Change your daughter’s diaper once in a while and you’ll know the difference.”
Griffin just laughed and shook his head, making a face at his two-year-old son, Hudson, who was making a hell of a mess in his booster seat with some Play-Doh.
Some dads didn’t change diapers, but I suspected that none of the men here shied away from a loaded Pampers.
“It’s sort of baby poop, Mom,” Talia said, her hand splayed on her pregnant belly.
She and her husband, Foster, were having a boy. Current name options were Kaiden or Jude. I’d voted for Jude.
“Are all of my children color-blind?” Anne asked the room. “It’s yellow.”
Harrison hid his laughter in the beer bottle pressed to his lips.
“It’s not that bad.” Jasper’s arm was draped around the back of Eloise’s chair, his hand on her shoulder. He was rarely far from her side, and if she was close, he touched her in some small way.
I’d seen that sort of constant touch before. Jasper’s obsession with Eloise had taken me off guard at first. Maybe just from my own personal history, but the hairs on the back of my neck had stood on end as I’d watched them from the corner of my eye almost constantly.
But after hours of seeing them together, I realized it was different than Andrea and Brandon.
Jasper didn’t touch Eloise to possess her, to control her. He touched her like she was his tether to the earth. Like without her, he’d drift away on a breeze. He loved her.
There was a lot of love at this table.
Lucky table.
“Thank you, Jasper.” Anne gave him a proud smile.
“Kiss ass,” Knox teased. “It’s hideous.”
“It’s not hideous.” Memphis, Knox’s wife, gave Anne a sweet smile. “I like it too.”
Knox and Memphis each had a kid in their arms. Memphis was feeding their baby boy, Harrison Eden, a bottle. Knox stroked their oldest son’s back.
Drake had fallen asleep about an hour ago, even with all this noise.
We’d finished dessert. The dirty plates were still scattered across the table.
He’d had his last bite of brownies and ice cream, then crawled into Knox’s arms. He’d rested his head on his dad’s shoulder, and five minutes later, he’d conked out.
“We’re taking a poll.” Anne aimed her gaze at Foster seated next to her. “What do you think?”
“I like it,” he said, sharing a quick look with Jasper.
I’d learned tonight that the two of them had worked together for years while Foster had been in the UFC. Jasper had been Foster’s trainer until he’d retired, and both had moved to Quincy about the same time.
They’d shared a few looks tonight, unspoken messages flying across this table.
Once upon a time, I’d had that sort of friendship. Brotherhood.
With Cormac.
Lyla put her hand on my thigh beneath the table, her delicate touch chasing away the past.
I covered her knuckles with my palm, drawing circles on her skin with my thumb.
“Lyla?” Anne arched her eyebrows at her daughter, waiting for her vote.
“I don’t think it’s the color of baby poop, Mom. More like split-pea soup.”
Anne’s jaw dropped. “It’s not green.”
“It’s got a green tint.”
I clamped my teeth together, fighting the laugh that Lyla’s brothers couldn’t hide.
“Vance?” Anne asked, her eyes pleading.
“Yellow,” I lied. “It’s definitely yellow.” It was split-pea, baby-poop green.
Her entire face lit up.
So did Lyla’s. She smiled, knowing I’d lied for her mother’s sake.
“Do we really need to vote?” Mateo asked. “I’ll just tell you how it’s going to go. Your kids hate the color. Your kids-in-law also hate the color, but they love you too much to tell you the truth.”
“So not only are you criticizing my taste, now you’re saying you don’t love me.” Anne picked up her cloth napkin and threw it at his head. “Get out. You’re no son of mine.”
Mateo caught the napkin and laughed, a deep, hearty laugh that was the same as his father’s and brothers’.
I needed two hands to count the similarities between the Eden men. And the same was true for Lyla and her mother and sisters.
As twins, Lyla and Talia had the same shape to their face, nose and mouth. Cormac’s twins had been almost impossible to tell apart for most people. It had taken me months to know which was Hadley or Elsie. But even though Lyla and Talia had the same features, I’d know Lyla anywhere.
Talia’s eyes were blue, but not Lyla’s blue.
And when it came to kindred spirits and personalities, Lyla was very much like Anne.
“How about I repaint the bathroom for you this weekend?” Lyla asked. “We could pick out a pretty gray or forest green.”
“No.” Anne sighed. “You’re busy. I’ll do it. Maybe. Or maybe I’ll just make you all suffer with the baby-poop yellow.”
“Speaking of baby poop.” Memphis stood with the baby in her arm. “Be right back.”
She bent and kissed Knox’s forehead, then ducked out of the room.
“Okay, cowboy.” Griffin picked up a ball of Hudson’s Play-Doh and put it in its yellow container. “Time for us to go home and get in the tub, then head to bed.”
“No.” Hudson’s mouth turned down at the corners, then he crumpled, falling forward as he began to cry.
“Oh, my son.” Winn was out of her chair in a flash, picking up Hudson for a hug.
He wrapped his legs around her waist and his small arms around her shoulders, like she was his saving angel. She probably was. Though Winn would likely still make her son take a bath.
“Let’s go home.” She kissed Hudson’s cheek, then carried him with her as she moved to collect the diaper bag.
The rest of us stood, clearing plates and glasses to the kitchen.
Talia and Foster were the first to take off, followed closely by Jasper and Eloise. Then Knox and Memphis loaded up their boys and headed home. Mateo waved goodbye as he climbed into his truck, heading to the cabin where he lived in the mountains.
Griffin and Winn didn’t have a long drive to their house on the ranch, so they stuck around the longest to say goodbye.
“Good to see you, Vance,” Winn said as we stood beside the door.
“You too.” Before dinner, I’d had a lot of respect for Winslow Eden as a cop. After dinner, that respect had only grown, seeing her as a wife and mother, loyal and loving.
As far as I could tell, she was the only person who knew about my situation in Coeur d’Alene.
The clusterfuck that was my job. The shooting.
That she’d let that stay between us, well .
. . I didn’t have much to offer her as thanks, but if she ever needed a favor, I’d move mountains to make it happen.
“Glad you could make it out.” Griffin shook my hand, then pulled Lyla into a hug, kissing the top of her hair.
“Mom said there were a few things in the shop that need fixing. The paper towel holder in the bathroom and your office door isn’t closing quite right.
Dad and I are going to come in tomorrow and take a look. ”
“It’s nothing major,” Lyla said.
“Then it won’t take us long.” He let her go, then opened the door, ushering his family outside, leaving me and Lyla with her parents.
“Thank you for having me.” I took Harrison’s outstretched hand, then bent to kiss Anne’s cheek. “Dinner was delicious.”
“It was so wonderful meeting you.” Anne smiled to me, then her daughter. “Love you.”
“Love you too, Mom.” Lyla hugged her parents. “Bye, Dad.”
“See you tomorrow, sweetheart.” Harrison held the door open for us, standing in the threshold as we crossed his porch. Then with a wave, he disappeared inside with his wife.
The air smelled like snow. It was coming, sooner rather than later. But I drew in a long breath, catching the scent of hay and animals and earth. A man could live a damn good life smelling that combination every day. I envied the Edens who called this home.
“When I was a kid, I wanted to be a cowboy,” I told Lyla.
Lyla laughed as we walked down the porch stairs. “You did?”
“Yeah. Ten-year-old me would be in heaven right now.”
Though thirty-four-year-old me was close to heaven at the moment too.