I passed my thumb over her glossy nails. "And no one gives you any shit for being a dark-hearted Goth girl?" I asked.
"Being given shit doesn't require me to accept it," she said.
I liked this one, too. I liked them all, and that was really surprising. Friends, they weren't something I did. "When is my brother going to marry you?" I asked.
Andy shoved a chunk of hair over her shoulder and shrugged. "As soon as Minerva McGonagall is available to officiate."
Oh, yes. I really liked this one. She was bold and witty, and I aspired to give as few fucks as she did.
"Can I rub your belly?" Andy asked Tiel. "Now that Froggie's here, I'm in belly-rubbing withdrawal."
"You have so much baby fever, you're gonna get a rash," Lauren said.
"I can enjoy babies and weddings without pining for my own," Andy replied. A warm grin spread across her face when Tiel placed Andy's hand over her small bump. "Erin, are you staying around through the holidays? Or will you be coming back later next month?"
Riley poked his head in from the kitchen. "Tell me you're staying, Rogue. I can't wrangle these assholes alone anymore."
I wanted to say yes. That was my first instinct, and the one I wanted to follow.
But…fuck. All of this had happened so quickly. What did I want here? What the actual fuck did I want?
Taking care of myself was, by definition, self-centered. But it was also really fucking necessary.
My therapist used to tell me that, someday, I'd realize that I'd survived. That I'd walked through the fire and come out stronger. The desire to hurt myself, to let go of this world entirely, it would be gone much in the way that we forgot what it was like learning to walk. We just knew that we did learn, and everything before was a blur.
And right now, with my sister-in-law's hopeful eyes twinkling and my ass firmly planted on a sofa in Shannon's house, I felt the blur. I couldn't call up those memories. I couldn't reach that desire to feel one form of pain so that another form would abate.
I knew that I ran away because I needed it, but now the need was gone.
And that realization sent a mouthful of white wine down the wrong pipe.
I was up, waving off the concern of my sisters-in-law, and heading for a private space where I could cough and sputter and freak out over not freaking out in peace. I knew there were puppies in this house. If I could find them, I could scratch their heads for an hour or two, and then reassemble the world as I knew it.
I stormed through the first floor, searching this old, winding home for the chocolate labs. I looked in closets and bathrooms, around corners and behind doors, and finally stumbled into the laundry room at the far end of the home. Instead of finding two pups, happy for my attention, I found Shannon and Matt's father-in-law, the Commodore. He was learning over the countertop, fork in hand, while the dogs sat silent at his feet.
"You can stay," he said, stabbing his fork in the direction of the door. "But only if you tell my wife you ate the apple-cranberry pie."
It was a folksy, paternal thing to say, and a startled laugh caught in my throat. No one had ever said folksy, paternal things to me.
"All of it?" I asked. "I ate theentirepie?"
"Every crumb," he said. "You're tiny but I can tell from lookin' at you that you're something mighty."
Tears prickled at my eyes, and I stared at the floor, blinking, to keep my composure. It was like I'd waited all my life to find good, decent men, and now I couldn't turn around without one trying to feed me.
"Okay," I said, glancing up to find him smiling at me. My stomach chose that moment to growl and gurgle.
"There's a squash pie back in there," he said, gesturing toward the kitchen. "I've been saving it for breakfast, but I'll share it with you."
I shook my head. I couldn't rob this man of his breakfast. "No, I'm fine," I said, shaking my head as my stomach rumbled in disagreement.
"I'll get another fork," he said, setting his down and exiting to the kitchen. He quickly returned, offering me a napkin and fork without a word, and we dug into the butternut squash pie.
"Thank you," I said, nodding toward the dish. "I mean, you could've kicked me out—"
"Why aren't you out there with the kids?" he asked. He pointed to the stool tucked into the countertop, indicating for me to sit.
"Overwhelmed," I said, and that earned me a concerned glance from the Commodore.
