Chapter 24
SARAH
I stir the mashed potatoes and set the large spoon aside. A cold hand grips my wrist, tugging me away from the counter and through the doorway.
“Hey, what . . .” I follow Roxie, who’s clearly on a mission.
She stops when we are safely out of the kitchen and turns toward me. “ That’s Slade?” she whispers, pointing in the direction of the garage where she escaped to rather than helping set food out.
I stare at her, wondering what she’s getting at.
She crosses her arms, her head falling to the side in annoyance. “Tall, tattooed, and brawny. Looks like he should grace the cover of Sexy Uptown Lumberjacks .”
I laugh, and she doesn’t break her miffed state.
“ He’s the guy who fixed your car, drove you to work, and that you’ve been shacking up with?”
I frown, hearing the back door open, and Wind announces the turkey is done. “We are not shacking up together. We stayed here for two nights because I had no running water.”
She cuts a hand through the air. “Semantics. You did not tell me that A: He and Ollie are like this.” She crosses her fingers as her eyes bug out. “And B: He’s clearly got it bad for you.”
Laughter tumbles out of my mouth, and I cup a hand over it, hearing the guys enter the kitchen .
“He does not have it bad for me,” I whisper. “We’re friends, and that’s it. I’m pretty sure he only tolerates me because I remind him of his mom, who struggled to raise two kids on her own.”
She rolls her eyes. “Oh, please. Keep telling yourself that, sister.” She leans closer as the noise in the kitchen grows louder. “I saw the way he looked at you earlier, and let’s just be real, he was not thinking about his mother.”
My cheeks grow warm, knowing what look she might be referring to, but I don’t think it means what she wants it to. Or maybe I’m not sure if I want it to mean that.
I recall his strong hands and the way they gripped my waist. Yep, that doesn’t help.
“It’s nothing,” I say, needing it to be true. “We’re just. . .friends.”
Her stance and eyes soften. “You know, you can let yourself think about it being more than that if you want it to be, right?”
I glance at the floor. Given my record, I’m not sure it’s a permission I should be in charge of.
“It’s been a long time, Sarah. Way too long. Everything that happened that wasn’t about you. It was about him.” She waits for me to meet her gaze, and she grins. “The best revenge is to let yourself be happy.”
I roll my eyes and smile, grabbing her hand and pulling her back into the kitchen.
We step into the tight quarters, and Slade stands just inside the door with Frankie in one massive arm. She pulls on the bill of his hat, and he tickles her side.
I get a sharp elbow to the ribs. “Yeah. Good luck sticking to that friend zone,” Roxie mumbles, and I elbow her back.
“Come on. Line up and load up.” Wind waves people toward the plates.
“Wook, Mama!” Ollie holds out his hand with an old green car. “Dis is Swade’s f-favorite. His mama g-gave it to him.” He speeds it across the table, making the appropriate noises.
I glance at Slade, but he avoids eye contact, tickling Frankie again .
I fill Ollie’s plate and settle him at the table. Slade sits beside him with Frankie on his lap, patting the table and babbling.
I reach for her, but Slade stops me.
“You go first, then you can sit with them.”
“You sure?”
He nods.
“Kris, how many loads will it take to get all your sshhh-stuff moved next weekend?” Trig asks from the back of the line.
“Probably a few, and I need help getting a couch from one of my co-workers this week. If you all work hard and keep your groaning to a minimum, I’ll buy pizza and beer for dinner.”
“I w-wanna come,” Ollie says, dropping a strip of turkey in his mouth.
“You guys should come for dinner. I’ll give you a tour of my new place,” Krissy says, sliding around the table next to Ollie.
“Thank you. That would be fun, but we can’t,” I say quickly.
“Aw. I wanna go,” Ollie whines. “That’s n-no fair.” He pouts, crossing his arms over his chest and tucking his chin.
“Ol,” I say, needing him to knock it off.
“Another time, ok?” Krissy rubs his back.
“Hmph,” he grunts.
“Ollie, don’t be rude.”
“Eat up, folks, and get ready for games,” Carson says, rubbing his hands together. “We’ll start with charades, Slade’s favorite.”
“I’m not playing your games,” Slade grumbles.
Trig turns from scooping stuffing onto his plate. “You haven’t been practicing your miming skills? We warned you last year.”
“You’re gonna have to be on your own team,” Wind says, carrying a heaping plate to the living room. “I’ve never seen someone so terrible at acting out eating.”
Slade groans, and I roll my lips together, trying not to laugh as I set my plate on the table.
“Or driving,” Krissy snorts, covering her mouth as she laughs.
“That was unfair, and you all know it,” Slade points at her .
“But was it?” Carson asks, and the room erupts with laughter.
I can’t hold it in, and his eyes land on me.
“I wouldn’t laugh. These jokers cheat,” he says, completely serious.
I reach for Frankie. “I’ll have to judge that for myself.”
He glares underneath his hat as he hands Frankie over.
I take Frankie, helping her with the mashed potatoes while she shoves pieces of roll into her mouth. Voices and laughter fill the house, and I listen, trying to remember a Thanksgiving like this.
Growing up, my mom and I ate in the community building of the trailer park. When I married Miles, he was always working, so I never cooked a meal, and it was just Ollie and me.
But this is nice—the teasing and laughter. Being here is easy and comfortable, and I haven’t felt that before.
We eat, and when the kids are done, I hand Frankie off to Roxie, then help Millie and Wind store food and clean the kitchen.
When we’re finished, we join the group in the living room. I sit on the floor with Roxie as Frankie walks along the edge of the couch.
As promised, the games begin. Krissy stands in the middle of the floor, drumming and marching, and the whole room starts to shout.
“Marching band,” Trig yells, and Krissy circles her finger in the air.
“Parade,” Carson guesses, and she throws her hands in the air.
Millie draws next and takes her spot front and center.
Slade sits quietly in the recliner with Ollie, watching the football game. He said he wasn’t playing, and he wasn’t kidding. I expect nothing less of the man who seems to do exactly what he says.
When Millie’s turn is over, Roxie scoots closer. “I have to get going.”
I nod. “Ok. Let me get our—”
“No, all my stuff is in the car. You should stay.”
She stands and kisses the kids goodbye, thanking everyone. I walk her outside and hug her tight, not wanting her to go.
I hold onto her, forcing out the thing that’s been on the tip of my tongue since last night. “You can’t marry Leonard, Rox. I know you’re trying to do the right thing, and it’s important to retain part of your family’s legacy, but you can’t marry him. It’s the rest of your life.”
She squeezes me and then pulls away. “I don’t have a choice.”
“Yes, you do.” I inhale the cool, brisk air. “But, you’ve got to stop running and trying to punish your parents long enough to figure out what you really want. Spontaneously marrying Leonard is just another way to lash out.”
She laughs, but there’s a tinge of ridicule in it. “Actually, Leo is exactly who they’d want me to marry.”
“But it gives you additional ammunition to despise them and lots of opportunity to throw your unhappiness in their face. Is that worth what it will cost you?”
Her eyes flick between mine, and she scoffs.
“Isn’t that what you’ve been doing?” Her tone is like a punch in the gut.
“What?”
“Running and hiding.” She gestures toward the house with her chin. “In there. Here.” She holds out her arms. “Seems to me you ran, and you’re still hiding. First, it was behind Miles and his loud-ass ego, while that man did nothing but take from you. Shit, he still is.”
“Rox, that’s not fair. I have Ollie and Frankie to think about.”
“But now you’re here. New home, new job, new life, and you’re still hiding. You won’t tell Miles to pay up or fuck off. You continue to let him string you along and play into his manipulative hand while he flounces around pretending to be the next bachelor.”
I pull in air, not knowing what to say.
“You don’t even want those people inside, your new friends, to know who you are.
Do they know about Miles? Who he is? What he did?
It was clear you didn’t want them to know anything about you—who you are and what you accomplished before he stripped it from you.
Everything you fought so hard to achieve. ”
She pauses, and my heart pounds to each beat of silence. “I’m not the only one running, Sarah. You’re scared to actually move on and let people in.”
My lungs ache, moving in and out quickly, making it difficult to breathe. “It’s embarrassing.” I squeeze my eyes shut tight, choking it out. “All of it. You think this is what I wanted? Who I want to be?”
I shake my head, my eyes and throat consumed with a raging fire.
“I used to know who I was. That brave girl you remember, I made her who she was, but . . .” I swallow, needing to wash it all down before the flood bursts through my only remaining reinforcements.
“I lost her, her dreams and ideas, and I don’t know if she’s ever coming back.
I don’t know what else to do other than. . .this.”
It’s the whole truth. The one I’ve never released out loud, so damn afraid of what it means.
That’s what happens when you allow yourself to be consumed by someone else.
When they use you and your trust. When they lie and cheat over and over again, you no longer love or trust yourself.
You become the person you despise. The person you told yourself you’d never be. And it’s devastating and humiliating.