Page 32 of Wintering with George

I did as told, and because I was exhausted and aching, and because the house was secure, which I knew because I’d set the alarm myself, and everyone was safe, I was asleep before he came back.

SIX

Surprisingly for me, I woke around eight the following morning. Normally I was up before dawn, too many years of training to try and suppress to sleep in. Kurt was passed out, and I was careful not to wake him as I got out of bed. As tiring as the previous day had been for me, I could only imagine how it had been for Kurt. He’d been amazing, a rock for everyone, and as usual, caring and protective of me. He had to be both mentally and emotionally wrung out. Even with all that running through my mind, because letting him sleep in was paramount, I still had to kiss him on the forehead before I left the room. Luckily, he didn’t stir.

After a shower, I went downstairs to find the tree decorated and with the gifts the family had brought from home clustered around the base on the skirt. I was impressed they’d found all the stuff to trick it out.

“That looks awesome,” I announced to the room.

“Yeah?” Toby asked me, his eyes lighting up. “You like it?”

“I love it. You guys did a great job.”

“Dad did the star by stacking chairs ’cause we couldn’t find a ladder.”

I glanced at Brad, who was packing empty ornament boxes back into Rubbermaid tubs.

“It’s not as much of an OSHA violation as you’re thinking,” he told me.

“Sure,” I teased him.

“George, I made breakfast.” Thomasin gestured for me to come into the kitchen. “I hope you like biscuits and gravy.”

“I do,” I said, joining her.

“No, go sit down. I’ll fix your plate.”

I stopped moving and looked at her.

“What?” she asked, appearing unsure.

“I can make my own plate, Thom. You don’t need to serve me.”

Her face scrunched up like she was on the verge of tears. “George, you’ve done so much for my family, and I⁠—”

“I would do it again in a heartbeat,” I assured her. “And you don’t owe me anything.”

She crossed her arms suddenly.

“Will you sit and talk to me while I eat?”

“I would love to,” she said with a sigh.

“Is there coffee?”

“Of course there’s coffee,” she said like I was nuts. “I could die without caffeine.”

I smiled at her and started making my plate.

“Oh, George,” she sounded so pleased. “I love that you’re eating my food.”

“Whenever Kurt cooks for me, it’s a treat. So is this.”

She nodded quickly.

“Cooking is something you do to show your family you love them, isn’t it?”

“Acts of service,” she told me. “That’s my love language.”