Chapter 11 Hope
HOPE
Staring in the mirror, I reflect on the past week that Frost has been staying with me and how much I absolutely love sharing my space.
He seems comfortable here with the way his boots are placed next to my shoes by the front door, and his cut hangs on the hook with my jacket.
I love the way his scent lingers on my pillows like he belongs, and honestly, if I have my way, he’ll stay.
The slam of a cupboard door startles me as I rush into the kitchen. Frost’s hair is sticking straight up as he rummages through the cabinets. All I can do is stand there and watch him like a lovesick teenager.
Frost’s head swings in my direction. “What’re you doing clear over there, darlin’?”
My cheeks burn. “I’m thinking.”
“That so?” He shuts the cabinet and leans against the counter, arms crossed over his chest. “About what?”
I fiddle with the hem of my sweater. “About Thanksgiving.”
His eyebrows lift. “Didn’t peg you for someone who gets stressed over holidays.”
“I don’t.” I chew my lip. “Usually.”
His gaze softens. “What’s going on?”
I inhale slowly. “My parents invited me over for Thanksgiving dinner this year. Amy’s going too, she’s always been invited to any family gathering since we’ve been friends since elementary school,” I ramble. “They… uh… asked if I was bringing anyone.”
Frost goes completely still.
“I want you to come with me,” I blurt out before I lose my nerve. “Only if you want to. And only if you’re comfortable. My parents are… well, they’re a lot, and Amy will probably interrogate you again, but it would mean a lot to me if you were there.”
A slow smile spreads across his face, the kind that crinkles the corners of his eyes and makes my knee joints turn to soup. “You want me to meet your family?” he asks.
“I do.” My throat goes dry. “I really do.”
He pushes off the counter and walks toward me, each step purposeful. When he reaches me, he hooks a finger under my chin to tilt up my head.
“You sure about that?” he murmurs.
“Yes,” I answer without hesitation. “You said you claimed me, Frost. When my parents asked me if I was bringing someone, I said yes. I’m sorry I didn’t discuss it with you first. They asked, and it just felt right to include you.”
His thumb drags gently across my cheek. “Then I’ll be there, baby, for Thanksgiving, your parents, and even Amy.”
Relief pours out of me. “Really?”
“Really.” He kisses my forehead, soft and certain. “Wouldn’t let you face all that alone.”
I laugh a little hysterically. “Amy is going to take this to the next level.”
“I’ll survive,” he says, dead serious. “Just promise me that you’ll sit next to me.”
Frost opens his arms, and I step into them as I slide mine around his waist. “Thanksgiving is going to be a disaster,” I mumble into his chest.
“Probably,” he agrees. “But it’ll be our disaster.”
My heart jumps in my chest, and warmth spreads throughout my body. “Okay,” I whisper. “We’ll survive it together.”
“Damn right,” he murmurs into my hair. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Standing in the middle of my kitchen, it hits me… I don’t want him to.
Frost parks the bike at the curb in front of my parents’ house, and I see Amy through the front window. She’s got her face pressed to the glass like a nosey neighbor.
“Oh shit,” I whisper. “She’s spotted us.”
Frost laughs under his breath. “I can take her.”
“No one can take Amy,” I mutter as we walk up the driveway. “People have tried.”
The front door flies open before we even hit the porch, and Amy bursts onto the steps like a squirrel on espresso. Her gaze ricochets from Frost to me and then back to Frost again.
She stomps down the steps, plants her hands on her hips, and narrows her eyes. “You actually brought him?”
Frost shoots her a lazy smirk. “Miss me?”
“I don’t know you well enough to miss you,” Amy fires back. “Yet, somehow, you still haunt me.”
“Aw,” he drawls. “I have that effect on people.”
“Unfortunately,” she mutters.
He grins, and she throws her hands up. “It’s fine, totally fine. I had a feeling Hope would invite you. I mean, you’re staying with her. I didn’t think you’d actually be brave enough to meet the parents this early in your relationship.”
Before I can save either of them from themselves, my mom barrels out the door. She clasps her hands to her chest. “Hope you made it. Oh, this must be Frost.”
Frost straightens. “Ma’am,” his voice drops a couple of octaves.
My mother fans herself… literally fans herself.
“Hope,” she whispers behind her hand. “You didn’t tell me he was handsome. That was misleading advertising.”
“Mom,” I hiss.
“It was,” she insists. “You undersold him.”
Amy snorts so loudly, I worry that she might choke.
Then my dad appears behind her, squinting suspiciously at Frost like he’s evaluating a new car he might buy. “So. You’re the guy,” Dad deadpans.
Frost nods once. “Yes, sir.”
My dad hums. “Ride a motorcycle?”
I internally smack my face. What the hell is going on with these two today? It’s not like I’ve never dated before in my life. The lightbulb finally goes off, and I turn to glare at Amy, who smirks.
That biotch told them all about him. I’m gonna kill her.
Frost nods again. “Yes, sir.”
My dad crosses his arms. “Ever put my daughter on the back of it?”
Duh! I obviously rode with him over here. My car’s not in the driveway.
Amy inhales sharply. “Oh, this is gonna be good—”
“Dad!” I cut in, horrified.
Frost doesn’t blink. “Yes, sir. Twice.”
My dad’s eyes narrow. “Was it safe?”
“Perfectly,” Frost answers. “I’d die before I let anything happen to her.”
Amy freezes, and my mom swoons more than I thought was possible, while my dad looks impressed.
“Well,” he mutters. “Come on in.”
We step inside the house and peel off our coats. I hang them in the closet, and Dad immediately pulls Frost aside and starts showing him his collection of model cars. Totally out of character for him because anyone else I’ve brought over, he usually ignores.
Mom pulls me into the kitchen while the men ooh and ahh over his assortment of vehicles.
“Hope,” she whispers. “Frost’s beautiful. He’s almost like the men you describe in your novels.”
“Mom, knock it off,” I groan.
Amy slides next to her with a glass of wine in her hand.
“I still don’t trust him,” Amy says. “But if he continues to treat you well and keeps that smile on your face, I’ll adopt him.”
“We are not adopting my boyfriend,” I grimace.
“Too late,” Mom says. “He’s family now.”
Amy pours me a glass of wine. “I literally met him when he was na—”
“Amy!” I yelp. “Do not finish that sentence.”
Mom and Amy share identical mischievous grins. “We’ll behave,” Amy promises.
“Don’t lie to her, Amy,” Mom corrects.
They both sip their wine in perfect sync. Great, I’m doomed, or better yet, Frost is. I snatch my glass off the counter and head back into the living room, where Frost is still talking to my dad. Dad nods thoughtfully while Frost explains his love for restoring old cars.
Amy stops beside me. “Well, well. He passes Dad’s test.”
I blink. “That was a test?”
“Oh yeah.” She gestures toward the table. “You know he never talks to your boyfriends. Frost had him hooked from the time you stepped into the kitchen. As soon as Frost questioned him about his car collection, it was over.”
That is both worrying and comforting.
Frost sees me and gives me a little chin lift, a small smile meant only for me.
Amy nudges me. “Okay. Fine. Maybe he’s not the worst.”
I exhale. “High praise coming from you.”
“Don’t push it.” She pauses. “But just so you know, if he breaks your heart, I’m egging his bike and taking my bat to his head.”
Frost calls over his shoulder. “I can hear you.”
Amy jumps. “Jesus Christ, how?”
Frost taps his ear. “Sharp hearing.”
She narrows her eyes. “Great, now I can’t even talk shit in peace.” Frost chuckles. “Ugh… He’s charming, and I hate it,” Amy mumbles.
Mom steps out of the kitchen. “Girls, why don’t you make sure the table is ready? Dinner is almost done.”
I roll my eyes. We all know that she’s had the table set since dawn.
Mom’s a planner and tends to be a little extravagant for every holiday, but Dad always manages to rein her back in.
It’s a tradition we all enjoy, even though we wish she’d let us help her more.
I step into the dining room, and my eyes widen in shock.
Mom not only set up, but she went completely overboard.
You’d think the Queen of England was going to grace us with her presence.
There’s a brand-new tablecloth draped over the table, with cloth napkins folded into swans, gold plates, and silverware at each place setting, and place cards indicating where everyone should sit.
Place cards? What the hell is happening here?
Walking around slowly, I catch everyone’s seat and notice that Amy is directly across from Frost. His name is scrolled across the card, with the word 'biker asshole' written underneath.
Definitely not a coincidence.
The scent of turkey fills the air, smelling like heaven and impending doom. Dad is already two glasses deep, which means the filter on his mouth is dead and buried. Frost sits beside me, his shoulders tense, and his eyes alert like he’s prepared for battle.
Amy sits across from him, cracking her knuckles like she’s ready to hit him head-on.
Mom brings out the turkey with a proud flourish. “Dinner is served!”
Everyone fills their plates with all the traditional foods. Frost compliments the mashed potatoes, and Mom’s eyes brim with tears over the recognition from an outsider. It’s a shockingly typical Thanksgiving Day until Mom levels her gaze directly at Frost in that Mom look, only she can give.
“So, Frost,” she begins gently. “Tell us about your family.”
Frost stiffens beside me. It’s not visible to most people, but I feel it. His hand brushes mine under the table, and I know he’s withdrawing into himself.
He clears his throat. “My dad and sister live in New Mexico,” he says, his voice steady. “I haven’t seen them in a bit, but we talk.”
Amy stops chewing, and my dad sets down his fork.
Frost continues, quieter. “I, uh… I lost my mom recently. I needed some space and time. Figured I’d head West for a while and drive the coast.”
My chest tightens hearing the hurt in his voice, and I slide my hand fully into his under the table.
My mom’s face softens completely, eyes full of heartbreaking sympathy. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” she says, reaching out to touch the back of his hand on the table. “I really am.”
Frost gives her a tiny nod. “Thank you.”
Dad clears his throat. “Losing a parent, that’s never easy.” His voice is rougher than usual. “Glad you’re here, son.”
Son?
Amy’s fork clatters to her plate as she stares at my parents.
My mom squeezes Frost’s hand once more. “I’m glad you could join us tonight. Holidays can be lonely. You’re not alone here.”
Frost swallows, jaw flexing. He looks at her, then at my dad. When his eyes land on me, something in his expression softens in a way that makes my heart ache.
“I appreciate it,” he says with a hint of vulnerability.
Amy wipes under one eye aggressively. “Ugh. Dust,” she mutters. “This house is dusty. Fix it, Sharon.”
Dad snorts, and I burst into a fit of giggles.
Leave it to Amy to take the focus off Frost. I fucking love her.
Mom ignores her. “Eat up, Frost. You need more stuffing.”
She’s already putting more on his plate before he can answer. He huffs out a small laugh.
“I’m starting to understand where Hope gets it,” he says.
“Gets what?” I ask.
He lifts our joined hands under the table and squeezes, just once. “Her ability to make a place feel like home.”
My insides turn gooey.
Amy points her fork at him. “Okay, biker boy. That was smooth. I’m not even mad about it.”
Dad grunts. “I am, man’s trying to steal my daughter with compliments.”
Frost grins. “Seems to be working so far.”
Mom beams as Amy groans and pushes her food around her plate. Dad mutters something about “damn charming men.”
Frost leans in close and murmurs in my ear, “Thank you for bringing me here, baby.”
I squeeze his hand. “Always.”
Across the table, Amy mouths, “I still have my bat.”
Frost flashes her a smirk that says he’s not worried, and for the first time in a long time, I realize neither am I.