I turned to face him. Those gray eyes, steady as always, saw right through me. They always had.
“Maybe I am.”
His hand tightened on mine. “It’s not going anywhere. Neither am I.”
“I know.” And I did. Finally, after everything, I actually believed it.
“Okay, but we need to talk about what happened at Deja Brew last week.” Lena’s voice cut through the surrounding noise, her purple streak bright in the lamplight, as she rubbed her very pregnant belly. “For those who haven’t heard—and I know some of you haven’t because certain people are too embarrassed to tell the story themselves. Ahem, namely my husband.”
Jude, who rarely spoke unless absolutely necessary, suddenly became very interested in his mashed potatoes.
“Oh, this is going to be good,” Coop said, leaning forward.
“So, I’m behind the counter, right? Normal Tuesday morning. And in walks our favorite silent mountain.” She gestured at Jude with her fork. “Orders his usual black coffee, no sugar, no cream, nothing fancy. Very on brand.”
“Woman,” Jude muttered, shaking his head.
“Except there’s a little girl in line behind him. Maybe six years old. Visiting her grandma for the holidays.” Lena was grinning now. “And this child looks up at Jude—all six-foot-four, two-hundred-forty pounds of him—and says, completely serious, ‘Are you a giant? Like from Jack and the Beanstalk?’”
Soft laughter rippled around the table.
“And Jude, weapons specialist, former Navy SEAL, the man who once made a suspect cry just by staring at him—” She paused for effect. “Gets down on one knee so he’s at her eye level and says, ‘Yes. But I’m a friendly giant. I only eat vegetables.’”
The table erupted.
“That’s not—it wasn’t—” Jude’s deep voice rumbled with protest, but even he was fighting a smile.
“Then she asked if she could touch his muscles, and he actually flexed for her.” Lena was nearly crying with laughter. “I have witnesses. The father of my unborn child, flexing for a little girl. Her grandmother tipped me five dollars for the show.”
“The child was curious,” Jude muttered, standing up and pulling Lena against him, equal parts love and exasperation clear in his eyes. “It would have been rude to refuse.”
Coop was wheezing. “A friendly giant. I’m getting that put on a T-shirt.”
“You will not.”
“Too late. Already texting Travis.”
The banter continued, layering over itself—Emma mentioned finding her and Daniel’s five-year-old son Tyson attempting to get a ladder out of the shed so he could climb to the roof and leave a sleeping bag there, evidently to catch Santa in the act when he arrived later tonight. Then someone else brought up Al Pacacino’s relocation from Resting Warrior to Pawsitive, before Lucas and Hunter got into their eternal argument about the best way to smoke a brisket.
“It’s been three years,” Jada said, leaning into Hunter’s side. “At this point, the only winner is the brisket.”
Hunter snorted. “And all the people I’ve saved from eating Lucas’s version.”
“You keep telling yourself that, cuz,” Lucas called from across the room, where he was helping Evelyn wrestle a squirming Avery into her coat.
I watched them all—this family that had chosen me, that had folded me into their lives without question. Daniel and Emma standing close, their son Tyson asleep on Daniel’s shoulder. Aiden’s massive frame taking up nearly two chairs, quiet as always but present, watchful. Piper catching my eye and giving me that soft smile, one survivor to another.
And Beckett beside me. Always beside me.
This was what I’d been running toward. I just hadn’t known it.
“Hey, you guys, the storm’s coming in faster than they predicted.”
Lucas’s voice cut through the warmth, his gaze fixed on the window. Outside, the snow had picked up, swirling in patterns that even I—still learning Montana—recognized as ominous.
The atmosphere shifted. Subtle but unmistakable.
“We should head out,” Evelyn said, already gathering kids. “Before the roads get bad.”
