“How are you doing?” I ask, pulling her aside. “With everything?”
“Good. Really good, actually.” She smiles. “Your guy’s mom has already offered to help me find an apartment. And his dad knows a good accountant. And I think ...” She trails off, her eyes landing on Ford, who’s cracking eggs into a bowl and laughing atsomething Mason said. “I think this town is going to be good for me.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” She looks back at me. “You did good, Sloane. This is a good place. Good people.”
“It really is.” I sigh, feeling the happiest I’ve ever felt.
Breakfast is chaos in the best way. Too many people in the kitchen, everyone talking over each other, grandmother directing traffic like a general commanding troops. But it’s warm and loud and full of laughter, and I love every second of it. We eat at the huge dining table that barely fits everyone. Pancakes and bacon and eggs and enough food to feed twenty people, even though there’s only twelve of us.
“This is amazing,” I tell his grandmother. “Thank you for doing all this.”
“It’s tradition, dear. Christmas breakfast with all my boys. Though this year is special.” She pats my hand. “This year, we have you girls here. Makes it feel like the family is growing.”
My eyes sting with happy tears. “Thank you. That means a lot.”
“Of course, dear. Now eat. You’re too thin.”
Jax laughs. “Grams thinks everyone is too thin.”
“Because you are. All of you. I blame your mother for not feeding you enough.”
“Mom feeds us plenty,” Ford protests.
“Not enough, clearly,” she grumbles.
After breakfast, we move to the living room where a massive Christmas tree takes up one entire corner. Presents are piled underneath, and Jax’s mom starts distributing them.
“We didn’t know you girls were coming,” she apologizes to me, Riley, and Maggie. “So, we don’t have much …”
“You didn’t have to get us anything,” I protest. Because I feel bad that I have nothing.
“Nonsense. But I did throw together a few things this morning.” She hands each of us a gift bag.
Inside mine is a beautiful scarf, homemade cookies, and a small ornament with Reid Farm painted on it.
“For your tree,” she says softly. “For when you move here. So, you always remember your first Christmas with us.”
I’m full-on crying now. “Thank you. This is perfect.”
Jax wraps his arm around me, kissing my temple. “Told you they’d love you.”
We spend the next hour opening presents. The brothers all gave each other gag gifts, which have everyone laughing. Jax’s parents are practical, new tools, warm socks, things he needs for the farm.
And then Jax hands me a small box. “You didn’t have to get me anything,” I say.
“Open it.”
Inside is a key on a simple chain.
“It’s a key to the farmhouse,” he explains. “So, you can come and go whenever you want. You’ll always have a place here. With me.”
“What he really means is, will you move in with him?” Ford calls out.
I still. Jax glares at his brother, who shrugs.
“Move in with you?” I ask softly.
