“Okay, everyone,” Bailey called, his smile so wide itcould’ve lit the whole room. “Before the pie coma sets in, I want to say something.”
The chatter dimmed to a low murmur. Even Willow paused in her food raid, blinking up at him with gravy-smeared cheeks.
“Our families are everything to us,” Bailey said. “Even my annoying brothers,” he added with a crooked grin that made the room ripple with laughter. “And I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to put into words how thankful I am for that.” He swallowed, and for a second his eyes shone. Then he laughed softly, raising his glass. “To home. And to Wishing Tree.”
Glasses lifted, a ripple of “to home” echoing back, warm and heartfelt.
Kai and Bailey exchanged a glance and then Kai slipped an arm around Bailey’s shoulders. “And while we’re talking about family—we’ve got an announcement.”
An expectant hush fell.
“Our surrogate is twelve weeks along,” Kai said, his smile blooming like a sunrise. “We’re going to be daddies in the summer.”
The diner erupted. Cheers, clapping, whoops of joy, hell, the squeal of the coffee machine in the background sounded celebratory. Bailey went pink as people shouted congratulations. Callum slapped Kaion the back, Brooke dabbed at her eyes, and Lucas whooped loud enough to rattle the windows.
And me? I sat there grinning like an idiot, heart so full it hurt.
Willow, oblivious to the life-changing news, shoved another roll into her mouth and reached for Hunter’s slice of Kai Pie. He handed it over without a word, and I laughed at how easily he surrendered.
But the thing that really caught me was him. Right there, in the middle of it all—Hunter. Not hunched and brooding. Not stiff and distant. He wasn’t grumpy at all. His eyes were alight, his mouth curved in a real smile, his hand brushing mine under the table as though it was the most natural thing in the world. He laughed at Lucas’s jokes, clinked glasses with Callum, and let Willow steal half his dinner without so much as a sigh.
For once, the weight he’d been carrying this last week or so seemed lighter.
And God, watching him like that—watching himhere,woven into the noise and joy of it all—I selfishly hoped that maybe he’d found a place he could belong to.
Chapter 14
Hunter
By the timewe spilled out of BB’s Diner, the night had quieted, snow soft underfoot, and the glow of Main Street lanterns casting a golden shimmer over everything. The diner door shut with a rush of warmth and laughter, leaving only muffled voices inside. My ears still rang with Bailey’s speech, Kai’s announcement, and the chaos of trying to eat while Willow stole food off every plate within reach.
Wes walked close beside me, grinning, flushed with the kind of happiness that radiated even into the cold air. I carried the leftovers Bailey had insisted we take, but all I could think about was how much I didn’t want the night to end.
We cut across the square, his shoulder brushing mine every few steps, and though I tried to keep in a straight line, part of me leaned into him withoutthinking. The quiet closeness made the air hum, small touches saying what words couldn’t as we headed toward his bookstore
He tilted his head up at me. “The Haynes family are amazing, aren’t they?”
“They are,” I admitted. And they were. Loud, chaotic, full of love—the kind of family that made my chest ache with something I couldn’t name.
Wes glanced sideways at me. “One day, I’d love that. Kids, the chaos. It’s messy and loud and…” His smile turned wistful. “It feels like joy.”
The thought caught me off guard. My throat worked before I could answer. “Yeah. Me too. Someday. I’m just… not sure where it fits, you know? Life plans. Tenure. Moving around.”
He didn’t push, simply nodded, and the conversation drifted as we climbed the stairs to his apartment.
The smallest supper ever was late, but the candlelight softened the cluttered little room, painting Wes’s face in gold and shadow. It felt absurdly intimate, as if we were the only two people in the world. Leftovers, with crackers and cheese, eaten by candlelight at his small table with a quirky playlist spilling softly from his speakers—one minute a sweeping violin piece, the next a guilty-pleasure pop anthem, then a Christmas song, and back again tosomething classical. Somehow, it felt more perfect than any carefully planned meal I’d ever sat through.
Mariah had stopped singing about Christmas, and the playlist lurched into something orchestral when my phone buzzed against the table and lit up the darker room. My inbox glared up at me—an email from LA, flagged and waiting. On Thanksgiving? My stomach dropped. I flipped the screen face down before Wes could catch the subject line. He had to have seen the inbox—of course, he had—but he didn’t push to know what it was.
I should’ve been excited to look. It might be an interview date—probably was, given the way the preliminary chats had gone. Everyone had been positive, encouraging, making it sound like it was only a matter of time. And yet… gah. I didn’t want to shatter this moment, this spell Wesley cast on me with his ridiculous playlists, his candlelight, his books piled like towers of chaos all around us. I didn’t want LA intruding on this fragile, impossible kind of perfect.
“Want to know what I’m thankful for?”
“Go on,” I said, wary but curious.
“The Story Lantern. Wishing Tree. And maybe…” His grin wobbled, shy and sincere all at once. “Maybe you.”
I swallowed hard. “I’m thankful for your chaos,” I blurted before I could stop myself.
