Page 26 of We Drank the Dawn

I knew all about existing without being seen. But I never felt invisible at Meadowbrook.

Already, I grew faint with want for all the hugs I was about to give and receive. I couldn’t wait to squeeze the breath out of my sisters-in-law, their husbands, my nieces and nephew, and even the horses.

As if by miracle, I forgot all about Peter’s sucky attitude and a huge smile stretched across my face as the men in the training ring—which I now recognized were Jesse, Cooper, and another man I’d never met—lifted their hands to wave at us with smiles on their faces. I waved like a maniac.

The bottom of the car scraped over an uneven mound of gravel, and Peter woke up. He drew a sharp breath and pulled the ear buds out of his ears. His voice crackled. “We’re here?”

“Yep.”

He quickly sat upright and grabbed his hat from the dashboard, settling it over his head, then rubbed his eyes. “How long was I sleeping?”

“Three hours.”

Bea must’ve heard us driving up, because she exited the big house and waved—her mouth open as if she was squealing. Wren, unbelievably grown from the last time I saw her, bounced on her hip, her chunky legs kicking with excitement until Bea deposited her onto the porch.

I narrated. “Bea and Wren are waving at us from the porch.”

Peter took a sharp breath that I couldn’t interpret. Was he dreading this? I glanced over to find his eyes turned down, his gaze dark. He didn’t look excited, that was for sure. I rolled my eyes and shook my head, determined not to let his rain clouds ruin my day.

The door opened again and out came Hollie, Izzy, and Nora.

An entire welcoming committee.

I squealed, too. Before I’d even fully parked, my seatbelt flew off and I threw open my door. Peter said something, but I’d exited the vehicle. The Texas October wrapped around my limbs and whipped through the roots of my hair, delivering the scent of hay and horses and the sounds of Meadowbrook’s family saying my name.

I rushed forward with open arms and Bea filled them, squeezing me so that I could hardly breathe. She embodied sunshine, her hug infused with warmth that radiated into my bones. Relief flooded me as she chattered a million words a minute and violently swayed our hug side to side. Her words blurred in my head as I relished her arms around me and marveled at how badly I needed a hug.

Hollie was next. She pulled me into her arms, her baby bump pressing into me. I squealed incoherent nonsense over how cute she was—all glowy and pregnant. Hollie laughed and swiped a hand beneath her belly, proud.

Her gaze roamed my face. “You look so tired.”

“I am. That is a long drive.”

She pursed her lips. “It’s brutal. Are you hungry?”

“Starving.” I’d only had a protein bar since the hotel’s crappy continental breakfast we had at eight o’clock that morning.

“You showed up just in time. We’ll eat in about an hour.” Her eyes flicked to where Peter had gotten out of the car and she stepped around me, leaving a small gaggle of children in her wake. Izzy and Nora’s hugs came like attacks, knocking my feet backward as I laughed. “Oh my gosh! You two are huge!”

“I’m forty-two inches tall,” Nora chirped, letting go of me in order to twirl. Her cowgirl boots sank into the gravel and her skirt wrapped around her knees. She was seven now and Izzy was eleven. Both of them were absolutely gorgeous. Just like Hollie.

Izzy let go and looked into my face. She had lengthened significantly. It wouldn’t be long before we were eye to eye. “Mom said you’re staying for a week.”

“We are.”

Nora squeaked. “Yay! We’re going to have so much fun!”

“I know! I’m so excited.”

Then her eyes darkened. “Mom said we aren’t supposed to talk about what happened to Uncle Peter.”

“Nora,” Izzy chided. “That means don’t bring it up at all.”

Nora looked to me. “Does he want us to say hi?”

I smiled down at their curious brown eyes. “Of course he wants you to say hi. And if you have questions about what happened, I promise you can ask him. He is fine with talking about it.”

With that they darted around me to greet their uncle, which left little baby Wren scowling at me from the porch steps with stormy grey eyes. Her pink lips puckered together and a deep crease furrowed her brows. Soft brown curls were frizzy on her head like she’d been rubbing her head against a pillow. Drool left long wet marks down the front of her white onesie and her bare foot stamped the wooden planks under her feet as she angrily cried, “Mama!”