Sometimes, her mom will join, too, and she’ll spend the entire meal talking about why she thinks aliens will come down to Earth one day and take over. It’s her favourite topic once she’s had a few glasses of wine.
But it always cheers me up.
However, this Thanksgiving, I’m spending it at Coach Darrell’s house. Poppy wouldn’t let me bail.
The room is bustling—full of football players and cheerleaders—and Sophia hands me a glass of wine as she smiles at my perplexed expression. “Peter’s idea. Wants to get some nice photos of the team being thankful and all.”
Is everything Peter does just for show?
I’ve only just stepped into the room, and I already feel the sudden urge to down my drink to feel more comfortable. Comfortable family settings have always been strange for me. I’ve never really experienced it.
Hazel—Darrell’s wife—rushes up to me, engulfing me in a warm hug. “It’s so lovely to meet you, Mae. I hope you’re keeping the guys on their toes.”
My gaze flits to Nathan, whose jaw is set as he leans back on a stool. His dark jeans wrap around his thick thighs—not too tight, but not too loose—and his T-shirt clings to his muscles in the most natural way. I can tell he’s just thrown the outfit on. He doesn’t need to try to look good because he does anyway.
His hair’s a little messy, looking like his fingers have run through the dark strands a few times. I wonder how soft it is. What it would feel like to tug on while—
Hazel clears her throat in front of me, releasing a giggle. “Has the drink got to you already, dear? You’re staring into space.”
“Oh, yeah.” I offer her a smile, and we tap our glasses together.
“Hazel, honey, do we have any more wine?” Darrell asks from the stove, his sleeves rolled up as he stirs the contents of a pot with a spoon.
“Oh, yes, in the back shed. Let me just—”
She looks flustered, glancing down at the canapes she was in the middle of preparing before she came to introduce herself to me.
I place a hand on her wrist. “Let me get the wine, Hazel. You have enough to do.”
Her eyes twinkle with gratitude. “Thank you, Mae. The shed’s just at the end of the backyard. If you could grab a few bottles, that would be really helpful.”
I dip my chin to my chest in a nod, placing my glass of wine on the counter. “Of course.”
Hazel snaps her fingers, head peering over to look at the nearest football player.
Nathan.
“Go with her,” she instructs. “We’re near the mountains. Rattlesnakes sometimes like to pay a visit.”
His lips flatten as his eyes meet mine, but he doesn’t argue as he stands from the stool he’s sitting on. His fresh, lemony scent hits me, and I try to keep my face neutral before turning and exiting through the back door.
Our footsteps crunch lightly on the gravel path, and the scent of damp earth and smoke from nearby bonfires mixes with the crisp winter air. I can feel him behind me, moving with a confident stride like he always does, and I peer down the backyard, which is scattered with lights. They’re not bright enough that I’m able to see, though.
I quickly lose my footing—thanks to Poppy’s suggestion I wear my wedged heels—and my ankle twists, sending me stumbling. My heart races for all the wrong reasons, and I close my eyes as the ground rushes up to meet me.
But it doesn’t quite get there.
“Are you okay?” Nathan’s concerned voice cuts through the air. But it’s not his words I’m focused on. It’s the thick, corded arm wrapped around my waist.
I’m suddenly acutely aware of how warm he is—my back against his stone-like chest—and as I fight the urge to lean into his touch, I step away from him, brushing my clammy hands on my pant legs.
“Yeah, thanks,” is all I can muster before I turn my back on him and continue walking down the yard.
I swear I hear him sigh, but I’m not so sure.
Do I talk to him? I don’t know what I’m supposed to say, especially after that.
“Do you like turkey?” is what I settle on.
