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“Ah.” Of course he would’ve spotted the almost familial bond that had been solidifying. He, too, had a difficult relationship with his blood family and had been adopted by the Harringtons.

“All in all, we have a lot to be thankful for this year, right?” He nudged my shoulder with his and grinned.

Nyx bonked my knee with her head, and I snorted softly. “Yeah. We definitely do.”

Chapter 15

Bodhi

Jennifer Harrington was crazy about Thanksgiving. Any holiday that brought friends and family together was crack to my people-hoarding mother. Christmas was, of course, another top favorite, but for Mom that brought the added stress and, according to her, joy of giving gifts. Thanksgiving was all about food and togetherness and thankfulness. Mom loved it and went all out.

There was always a sit-down dinner in the early afternoon—this year it was at 1400—but there were plenty of hor d’oeuvres and charcuterie before and after. Things kicked off at noon, people started snacking immediately, and it didn’t stop until long after the desserts were laid out. And while she expected her immediate family to be there all day, others came and went as they wanted. It was an open-house sort of thing, with friends from town and the hands arriving when, and staying as long, as they could.The change this year was that she’d moved the festivities to the Event Barn. With so many people, the house just wasn’t big enough. Mom wanted everyone to have room to breathe, to mingle, and talk. She and Nick had been cooking, and bickering, since 0500, and Fern, at Mom’s direction, had arranged the long tables into a rectangle. I knew without even asking why. Mom didn’t want separation, for anyone to be sequestered at separate tables, and instead for us all to be together.

I’d missed plenty of holidays when I’d been in the service, and even though I loved us all being together just as much as Mom, there was a part of me that was still getting used to the chaos of the larger gatherings. But that was the beauty of the large space. There was plenty of room to spread out, and little nooks that were quieter if someone needed a break.

I might have taken that opportunity if I wasn’t so intent on keeping eyes on Wren. Something had shifted in my brain and body, and I just couldn’t get enough of him. I needed to know where he was at all times, and I preferred it if he was within touching distance. The visit with his friends had settled him too. It was as though he felt better in his skin now that he had a plan for his future. The other night he’d sat on my couch and told me all about his plans, talking until his voice got scratchy, laying everything out. He was passionate again, the way he’d been about his music in the beginning, and he was positively glowing. Of course I couldn’t keep my eyes off him.

He’d changed seats again, this time engrossed in conversation with Fern, Ora, Russ, and Ora’s grandfather, Samuel. I hadn’t been surprised when I learned the two older men were, in Russ’s words, courting—I’d always suspected Russ leaned that way since he’d had no problem with my parents’ liberal views in a time when that just wasn’t publicly acceptable—but it was surprising that the two couples had met completely independently and only found out about everything at an accidental meeting early on. It really was a small world.

Needing to get closer to Wren, I busied myself studying the artwork on the walls, though I angled my body so I could keep an eye on my boy. Mom had all the kids make hand turkeys which they could decorate any way they wanted. I particularly liked the mini turkeys, where mom had traced each of the triplet’s hands, though I was sure they hadn’t done the decorating themselves. They would turn one in two days and didn’t have the capability. All three of them were catching up to where they should be development-wise and we were so fucking lucky that there didn’t seem to be any deficits. Given their early birth, and the fact that the girls had shared a placenta, it could have ended in medical complications and complexities that would have plagued them their entire lives. As it was, only Violet showed any concerns. She’d had some sort of retinal retinopathy when she was born, though Emery assured me that it had resolved on its own, but it seemed she was a bit nearsighted. Glasses were in her future, probably sooner than later. She’d look hella cute when that happened.

Lost in thought and Wren, I didn’t notice Shiloh had approached until he was standing quietly at my side. My situational awareness was slipping and that was unacceptable. I took a subtle breath, focused, and then offered the kid a smile.

“Which one is yours?” I asked with a head tip to the wall. Shiloh silently pointed to the sedate turkey colored in with traditional autumn colors. I should have guessed really. The other two had glitter and real feathers as well as marker. If I had to guess, Payton’s was the one in the same colors as Shiloh’s and Aria’s the one decorated in hot pink and bright green. “That one’s my favorite.”

I got just a hint of a smile for that. I carefully assessed the boy, noticing that there was none of the tension and stress in his little body that had plagued him early on. Instead, though his brows were scrunched together, he looked relaxed enough. Six or so weeks would do that. Shiloh was comfortable with his life now, safe in his room–which used to be Isley’s–that he and my dad decorated together, sure in his place with us.

“You good?” I asked. He shrugged, the motion somewhat exaggerated. I quickly glanced at Wren to make sure he was still enjoying himself, then gave Shiloh all my attention for the moment. I dropped down to one knee so we were on the same level. “Gimme a sitrep.”

That made him laugh, a quick giggle that disappeared just as fast as it started. He took a step closer, then one back, before he finally moved into my space. Then he bent his head so I turned mine, realizing he wanted to whisper in my ear.

“I never did Thanksgiving before.”

It was a quiet confession, one laced with a hint of…shame? Maybe that was too strong a word. Guilt might be better, as though it was his fault and he was somehow lacking for not having a proper Thanksgiving holiday before. Once again, I was filled with the desire to drop Laura Bennett off at a black site. Last I heard, it had been weeks since she’d even bothered to check in on her child.

But I didn’t let Shiloh see any of that. Instead I ruffled his hair, loving the disgusted noise he made as he batted my hand away.

“That’s okay,” I assured him, then made my eyes wide. “And let’s face it, this is a way bigger thing than standard turkey day, yeah? Mimi is a fan of doing it up big.”

Shiloh snorted, then clapped a hand over his mouth like he didn’t mean to let that escape. I started laughing and it took him a second before he joined in. Yeah, he was comfortable and safe here with my family, but there was still a trauma response ingrained in him. It would take time before he worked through all that.

“Food!” Nick suddenly bellowed, making Shiloh jump. I put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed lightly to let him know he was okay.

“Nick, you heathen,” Mom chastised, but I heard the fondness in her tone. I was very familiar with it. She clapped her hands once. “Come and get it!”

There was a scraping of chairs as everyone rushed to the buffet that had been loaded down with dinner food. I hung back with Shiloh for a minute, letting the chaos die down. Then I stood, looked down at him, and raised a brow.

“You ready to eat?”

He nodded. “Payton says I have to try the stuffing.”

“Well, you don’t have to eat anything. You know the rules.” I put my hand on his upper back and steered him toward the buffet so we could join the line. “But it’s his favorite, so if you want to try it, I think you should. It’s pretty good.”

He thought about that while we waited quietly in line. All around us, everyone was laughing and talking, but the two of us didn’t need to engage in conversation. When it was our turn, we filled our plates. I helped Shiloh reach a few things and offered opinions only when he asked. Then we headed toward the tables, looking for seats. Shiloh held his plate carefully as he headed right for Payton, but I was once again stalking Wren. He’d found a place on the other side, so I rounded the tables quickly. Judson beat me to the seat right next to Wren, but I stared him down until he huffed, got up, and moved to the other side of Kee.

Keegan grinned at Judson. “Woof woof?”

Judson shook his head. “Meow.”