Page 12 of Big and Grumpy

"Guilty as charged," Marigold says with a laugh. "Though I think it's more that he's forgotten how to scowl in the face of constant cookies."

Dinner is a revelation. My cousins together are nothing like what Marigold probably expected—they're funny and warm and obviously devoted to each other, even when they're trading insults. Boone tells embarrassing stories about our childhood that have everyone laughing, while Orson quietly makes sure everyone's wine glass stays full.

And I'm different with my family around. Still gruff, still economical with words, but there's an ease to me that I haven't felt in years. When Boone teases me about being domestic, I just roll my eyes and steal a bite of Savannah's dessert.

"You and Savannah are getting pretty serious, huh?" I ask Boone during a lull in the conversation, noting how she's wearing his grandmother's bracelet—something I know he wouldn't have given lightly.

"Moving in together next month," Boone confirms, his grin softening when he looks at Savannah. "Never thought I'd be the first one of us to settle down."

"The wild one tamed at last," Orson says with a gentle smile.

"Not tamed. Just... focused." Boone raises his glass in a toast. "To finding someone who makes us better versions of ourselves."

"I'll drink to that," I say, meeting Marigold's eyes across the table.

"Speaking of personal improvements," Orson says, "I'm thinking of expanding my home gym. Adding a dedicated power rack and some more free weights."

"That's right, you have that amazing setup," Marigold says.

"It's adequate," Orson says modestly.

"You should do it," Savannah says. "There's a real shortage of good trainers around here."

"Maybe," Orson agrees, but I catch something in his expression—a certain loneliness that makes me wonder if he's considering the change for reasons beyond just business opportunity.

"This meal is incredible," Savannah says, raising her wine glass. "To Marigold, for managing to domesticate the wildest Hartwell."

"I was never wild," I protest.

"You jumped off Boulder's Bridge into the river when you were fifteen," Orson points out mildly.

"That was different. That was stupidity, not wildness."

"What's the difference?" Marigold asks, genuinely curious.

Boone and Orson exchange a look before Boone grins. "Wildness is what I do. Stupidity is what Holt does when he thinks no one's watching."

"I liked you all better when you lived farther away," I mutter, but I'm fighting a smile.

The truth is, having my cousins here, seeing them accept Marigold without question, makes something tight in my chestfinally relax. I'd been worried they'd think I was moving too fast, that I was making the same mistakes I'd made before.

But watching Marigold laugh at one of Boone's terrible jokes, seeing how easily she fits into our family dynamic, I realize my cousins see what I'm only beginning to admit to myself: she's not a rebound or a distraction. She's something real.

Three months later, when we're engaged and planning to turn her cabin into the office for my new custom furniture business—with Marigold handling all the marketing and client relations—I'll look back on this moment as the one where we both stopped running from the past and started building toward the future.

But tonight, all I know is that I'm exactly where I belong—holding the woman who sees past my rough edges to the man I'm becoming, in a place that finally feels like home again.