It looks like the table my grandmother used to fix before she died. The turkey is golden and juicy, the sides are steaming, and the whole cabin smells like a home instead of just a place I sleep, and live.
"Not bad for two people who usually eat cereal on Thanksgiving," Paisley says, coming to stand beside me.
"Not bad at all." I turn to her. "Thank you. For this. For making me do this instead of letting me hide away like I usually do."
"You're welcome." She reaches for my hand, lacing our fingers together. "Thank you for giving me a reason to do it too."
We stand there hands linked, looking at the table we've set together. Then she squeezes my fingers and lets go.
"Come on. Let's eat before it gets cold."
I pull out her chair for her, and she raises an eyebrow. "Look at you, being fancy." When we're both seated, plates loaded with food that looks almost too good to eat, she picks up her glass of water.
"Should we do a toast or something?"
"I think that's traditional." I pick up my glass too. "To Thanksgiving. And to new traditions."
"To new traditions," she echoes, and we clink our glasses together.
I hope like hell that this is a new tradition, but I'm not about to press my luck.
We eat in comfortable silence for a few minutes, both of us too hungry to bother talking. Everything tastes great, and I can't help but think it's either because of the company or the fact that we made it together. Either way, I can't remember the last time I enjoyed a meal this much.
"This turkey is amazing," Paisley says around a mouthful. "I can't believe we actually pulled this off."
"The mac and cheese is even better," I moan as I swallow down a huge bite.
She gives me a shit eating grin. "That's because I made it."
Putting my hand on my chest, I remind her. "You made the sauce. I shredded the cheese."
"Manual labor versus culinary professionalism, Chase? I think we know who contributed more."
I laugh, shaking my head. This type of smart ass back and forth is what I've been missing in my life. "Whatever you need to tell yourself."
She grins at me, and then her expression turns more serious. "Can I ask you something?"
"Anything."
"What are you thankful for this year?"
The question catches me off guard, but I know the answer immediately. "Not being alone," I tell her. "I've spent so many holidays by myself, and I didn't realize how much I missed this. Having someone to share it with. But I'm truly thankful for having you to share it with."
Her eyes get shiny, and she blinks rapidly. "Chase."
"What about you?" I ask before she can say anything else, before I can worry that I've said too much. "What are you thankful for?"
She's quiet for a long moment, staring down at her plate. When she speaks, her voice is barely above a whisper. "I'm thankful that you saved me from making the biggest mistake of my life. That you prevented me from killing myself."
The words hit me like a physical blow. We haven't talked about that day, not really. But hearing her say it now, hearing the gratitude in her voice instead of the broken down tone that was there before, it my chest wide open.
"Paisley."
"I mean it." She looks up at me, and there are tears on her cheeks now. "If you hadn't been there, if you hadn't pulled me out of the car, I wouldn't be here. I wouldn't have this. Any of this. And I'm so grateful, Chase. So grateful that you were there. That you cared enough to stop me. That you've cared enough to keep me here, to make me want to stay. You didn't know who the hell I was, but you cared."
I reach across the table, taking her hand in mine. "I'm grateful too. That I was there. That I've gotten to know you. That you're here now."
She squeezes my hand, and we sit like that for a moment, the weight of everything hanging between us. Then she swipes at her eyes with her free hand and laughs shakily.
