Chapter 33
thirty-three
“Pass the rolls, would ya?” River elbowed Anson hard enough to jar his shoulder. “Or are you too busy making googly eyes at your pen pal?”
Heat crept up his neck. He grabbed the basket and shoved it at River. “Fuck off.”
“Someone’s touchy tonight. Must be all that pent-up—”
“Finish that sentence, and I’ll show you where this fork fits.”
“Kinky.” River’s eyes danced with mischief as he turned to the table at large. “Our resident blacksmith here has been extra grumpy lately. Anyone want to guess why?” His gaze slid meaningfully to Maggie, who was suddenly very interested in her mashed potatoes.
Christ. River was going to get himself strangled before dessert, which would be a new Valor Ridge record.
“River,” Walker said from across the table. “Enough.”
River held up both hands in mock surrender, but the grin stayed plastered on his face.
Anson risked a glance at Maggie. Her flush matched the one burning across his own face. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay.” Despite the blush, her lips twitched like she was fighting a smile. “Just River being River. He can’t help himself.” She leaned in closer, her shoulder bumping against his as she lowered her voice. “Hey, is Jax okay? He looks like he’s about to be sick.”
He followed her gaze across the table, and sure enough, Jax’s face was the color of paper, and he was sweating.
The room was warm, but not warm enough to account for the sheen on Jax’s skin.
His gaze stayed fixed on Nessie as she helped Oliver cut his turkey.
The kid was talking a mile a minute, something about dinosaurs at Christmas, while Mariah’s son, Tate, listened with quiet fascination.
Unease stirred in Anson’s gut. He’d seen that look on men’s faces before—the look of someone about to do something they couldn’t take back. He glanced around the table, but nobody else seemed to notice Jax’s discomfort.
Walker stood to carve more turkey. Jo was at his elbow, passing plates.
X entertained Mariah with some outrageous story that had her laughing despite her attempts to look unimpressed.
Bear and Greta sat next to each other, both studiously avoiding eye contact while their hands kept finding reasons to bump together.
His gaze lingered on them. Something there, he realized. A spark neither wanted to acknowledge.
Jesus. He blinked at the thought. Since when did he pick up on that kind of thing?
Maybe it was because his own body felt like a live wire, every nerve ending attuned to Maggie beside him.
The brush of her arm when she reached for her wine glass.
The subtle citrus scent of her shampoo when she tucked her hair behind her ear.
The warmth radiating from her thigh pressed against his.
“Yo, Earth to Anson,” Jonah said, waving a hand across his field of vision. “You with us?”
“Yeah,” he muttered.
At the same time, River said, “Nah, he’s orbiting Planet Magnolia right now.”
Maggie’s laugh was soft beside him, and heat bloomed deep in his gut at the sound. Suddenly, his jeans were uncomfortably tight. And worse, River knew exactly what was happening, judging by his wicked grin when Anson shifted in his seat.
“Leave him alone,” Maggie chided, but her smile said she was enjoying this.
“Never.” River winked at her. “It’s my sacred duty as his brother to make his life hell.”
“We’re not brothers.”
“Ouch.” River pressed a hand over his heart. “Hear that? Anson’s disowned me.”
“We’ve all disowned you,” Someone—who sounded suspiciously like Boone—muttered.
“Repeatedly,” Ghost added.
“Ah, c’mon, you guys adore me. Every family needs a loveable pain-in-the-ass.”
At that, everyone started talking at once.
“Jury’s still out on loveable,” Jonah said.
“We tolerate you,” Bear grumbled.
“Emphasis on the pain-in-the-ass part,” Boone said.
Laughter rolled around the table, and River basked in it like he’d just won the lottery. Anson watched him, watched all of them—the easy insults, the underlying affection.
Family.
Not his by blood, but his all the same.
He still couldn’t quite believe he belonged here.
“You okay?” Maggie whispered, leaning close enough that her breath tickled his ear. “You’re awfully quiet.”
“I’m always quiet.” He turned his head slightly, his lips inches from her temple, and inhaled that intoxicating citrusy scent.
“Even for you, I mean.”
Her lips curved into the half-smile that drove him crazy, the one that made him want to trace it with his fingertips, his mouth. He tore his gaze away and stared at his plate.
“This is just...” He glanced around the crowded room, the explosion of color and sound and life. “A lot.”
Understanding flickered in her eyes. “Need some air?”
He shook his head. “I’m good.” Not entirely true, but he wasn’t about to leave, not when her leg was pressed against his, not when she kept stealing glances at him like she was waiting for something.
Jo tapped her glass with her fork, and the room gradually quieted. “Before we eat, I’d like us to share one thing we’re grateful for this year.” Her gaze traveled around the table, landing briefly on each face. “If that’s okay with everyone.”
Nods circled the table. Even River, who normally balked at anything resembling therapy, gave a small shrug.
Anson’s gut tightened. He hated this kind of thing—being put on the spot, expected to find words for feelings he barely understood.
“I’ll go first,” Naomi offered, straightening in her chair.
Her voice stayed level as she talked about the Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women task force, about two women—Tariah and Angel from Haven House—finding safety.
“We made a difference. And I’m grateful to have found people who understand why that matters. ”
Ghost reached out and squeezed her hand. He didn’t offer what he was grateful for, but he didn’t need to. It was obvious to anyone with eyes. Naomi.
“I’ll go next,” Maggie said.
Anson’s pulse kicked up.
She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m grateful for finding this place when I needed somewhere safe. For a community that welcomed me without question. For a new start.”
Her eyes slid toward him. He stared down at his plate, traced the edge of the pattern with his thumbnail. His face burned, and in that instant, he was damn thankful for his beard. At least nobody would see the blush.
When he finally looked up, she was still watching him.
The moment stretched, and something loosened and opened in his chest. Her eyes held his, and the conversation around them faded to background noise.
It was just him and Maggie in this crowded room, this silent exchange more intimate than any touch.
Oliver’s hand shot up, nearly knocking over his water glass. “Me next! Me next!”
Nessie steadied the glass. “Go ahead.”
“I’m grateful Jax is my dad now and that Tate’s my best friend and that we get to live here with all the dogs and horses!” The words tumbled out in one excited breath. “And I’m grateful for Christmas and presents and pie!”
Laughter rippled around the table. Jax ruffled Oliver’s hair, his expression softer than Anson had ever seen it. The change in him since finding Nessie and Oliver was remarkable—the hard edges worn smooth, the haunted look replaced by something close to peace.
“I’ll take it,” Walker said, raising his glass. “To Christmas and presents and pie.”
“And to family,” Jo added softly.
Walker’s eyes met hers. “To family.”
The sharing continued. Lila talked about her expanding practice and the new rehabilitation facility. Mariah thanked everyone for making Tate feel welcome. Tate, shy but determined, said he was thankful for his mom and for Oliver and for books about space.
Ghost simply nodded when his turn came, but his hand found Naomi’s on the table, fingers intertwining. Naomi smiled, leaning into him slightly.
Boone spoke of gratitude for the ranch, for the work, for his mother’s good days. Leonora patted his hand, her eyes clear as she said she was grateful for her son, for his patience, for what he’d built.
River cracked jokes during his turn, but beneath the humor, Anson heard genuine appreciation for the second chance Valor Ridge had given him. For the space to heal, to find himself beyond his mistakes. For friends who’d become brothers.
Jonah thanked the horses, the quiet mornings, the community. Bear expressed gratitude for a roof, good food, honest work.
When it came to Anson’s turn, all eyes turned toward him. The expectant silence stretched out an dhis mouth went Sahara dry. He grabbed his water and gulped it down before clearing his throat.
“The forge.” Still, his voice rasped. “The animals. This place.” He looked at Maggie. He wanted to say her name, too. Wanted to tell her in front of everyone how important she was to him. But the words stuck in his throat like glue.
Instead, he swallowed hard and finished lamely, “The kittens.”
Inadequate. So inadequate.
Jax suddenly pushed back from the table with a scrape of his chair legs. His face was dead white except for two spots of color high on his cheekbones.
“Sorry, Jo. I can’t wait any longer.” He fumbled in his pocket and pulled out a small box.
Nessie’s eyes went wide. “Jax? What are you—”
He dropped to one knee beside her chair, hands trembling as he opened the box.
“I spent five years in prison believing I didn’t deserve a second chance.
That I was too broken, too damaged, too dangerous to ever have something good.
” His voice caught. “Then I came here. And you gave me a reason to be better, to fight my demons, to wake up every morning and try. Nessie, I love you. I love Oliver. I want to spend the rest of my life proving I’m worthy of what you’ve given me. Will you marry me?”
The room went silent. Even Oliver stopped fidgeting.
Nessie slid from her chair to her knees in front of him, tears streaming down her face.
She took his face in her hands. “You don’t have to prove anything.
” Her voice broke. “You’ve been worthy from the moment you chose to stay and fight and love us back.
” She leaned forward until their foreheads touched. “Yes. God, yes.”
Oliver launched himself from his chair with a shriek. “Does this mean Jax is gonna be my dad for real now?”
Jax’s laugh was choked as he pulled Oliver into their embrace. “I’m already your dad, buddy. This just makes it official.”
The room erupted. River whooped. Jonah clapped Jax on the back, his eyes suspiciously bright. Bear wrapped all three of them in a hug that lifted them off the ground.
Anson watched them, something tight and desperate clawing at his insides. Not jealousy, exactly. More like hunger. A bone-deep yearning for what Jax had found—the courage to reach for happiness despite every reason to believe he didn’t deserve it.
If Jax could do it, with all his demons and scars, then maybe...