They glance up briefly, and Joseph mutters a greeting before going back to scowling at the football game on the screen.
“What have they been training for?” he grumbles. “Never seen so much fumbling in my life. Their wives can’t be happy with those kinds of fingers.”
“Dad,” Nick groans. “Don’t get started on the fingers.” He gets up from the couch, coming over to fist-bump Braxton and give me a quick squeeze. “How was lunch at the Newport household?”
Braxton pats his stomach. “Good. Mom always overdoes it, but the leftovers taste just as good.”
I nudge him with my hip. “You just like that you don’t have to cook. Not that you cook anyway.”
Braxton hooks a hand around my neck. “Correction,” he says playfully. “Youdon’t let me cook.”
“You burn water, so not a surprise,” Nick pipes in. “You remember when you tried to slow-cook that roast a few years ago? You added so much water that it was basically soup.”
Braxton scowls. “What happened to the cone of silence?”
Nick grins. “It expires after two years. Don’t worry, Gracie, I still have loads of stories to share.” He winks at me, and I smile.
My first Thanksgiving with Braxton’s family wasn’t as comfortable, my relationship with him—and them—still too new. Even with the damning silence from my parents, this year feels different. It gives me hope for a future that only becomes clearer the longer I’m with Braxton.
Nick perks up as voices drift to us from the kitchen, followed by a high laugh. “We have a surprise guest, Braxton.”
Braxton wraps an arm around my shoulders, his eyes bouncing between Nick and the TV. “Oh yeah? Who’s that?”
Nick is saved from answering when a woman about my age appears in the doorway. She’s familiar, her pictures planted all around this house, but even so, the color of her hair immediately gives her away—strawberry blonde, matching Nick and Esther’s. She’s beautiful, her willowy frame holding the kind of curves I’ve always envied, and her bright smile is fixed on Braxton.
If his arm wasn’t a heavy weight over my shoulders, I might not have noticed the way he tensed, his muscles bunching against the back of my neck. His fingers clench into a tight fist before slowly loosening, and then his arm disappears as he shifts to the side, putting inches between us.
A cold shiver slithers down my spine, but I hide it, my eyes shifting between the two of them.
“Braxton,” she breathes. “It’s been so long.”
He wets his lips, eyes locked on her. “Paisley,” he murmurs. “I didn’t know you were coming home.”
She laughs, the sound tinkling through the room like wind chimes. It’s angelic and grating at the same time. “That’s what makes it a surprise! Come on, now, aren’t you going to give me a hug?”
There’s a stilted pause, like the very room is holding its breath. And then they move forward at the same time, Braxton sweeping Paisley into a tight hug. She goes up on her tiptoes, her arms around his neck, giving me the perfect view of her face over his shoulder and the way her expression softens, her eyes falling closed.
I don’t move. Nerves flutter in my stomach, uncertainty fills me, and I am unsure what I should do or say.
Nick steps into my side, his smile easy. “It’s crazy that you and Brax have been together for over a year, but you’ve never met my sister,” Nick says, nudging me with his shoulder. “Paisley graduated from high school and immediately went off to college. She was far enough away that coming back was always too expensive…” He shoots his father a look, leaning in to whisper conspiratorially. “Or she was just too busy partying.”
“Oh,” I murmur. “It’s nice that she’s visiting now.”
I can’t drag my eyes away from them, insecurity flaring at how they seem to just fit. Paisley’s cheek is practically pressed to Braxton’s, and a dark premonition fills me, every single instinct I’ve got screaming out in warning.
“Not visiting.” Nick sips at his beer. “She’s moved back. Mom’s thrilled, obviously. She’s the baby of the family.” His smile is affectionate as he looks at his sister. “You know how it is.”
I don’t.But it doesn’t feel like the time to remind Nick about how different my family is from his and Braxton’s.
I clear my throat, trying to dislodge the lump there. “They seem close.” Braxton and Paisley finally pull away from each other. I expect him to turn around and introduce me, acknowledge my existence—something—but he doesn’t.
“I guess.” Nick shrugs. “They haven’t seen each other since she left, but I know they didn’t part on the greatest terms.”
I don’t want to ask, but it slips out anyway. “Why’s that?”
“Teenage drama,” Nick says, but there’s the faintest undercurrent to his voice. “Hey, let me go get you a drink.” He’s gone before I say a word.
As he walks past them, Braxton and Paisley turn to faceme, standing shoulder to shoulder. Ice skates through my veins, my mouth dry as I wait for one of them to say something—anything.
