I sat.
The kitchen was warm and cluttered—mail stacked at one end of the table, a coffee mug with a lipstick print that nobody had moved, boots by the back door in three different sizes. A calendar on the wall was filled with writing in every square—birthdays, anniversaries, holidays and parties.
Haven set a glass of orange juice in front of me, then dropped to the floor in front of me. She had a first aid kit open before I’d even registered it was there, gently wrapping her hands around my ankle.
“Is it okay if I take your shoes off?” she asked.
I blushed. “Oh…they’re not mine.”
Forrest came in just at that moment, and Haven eyed his dirty socks.
“Ah,” she said. “Should’ve figured you didn’t have Forrest’s shoe size.”
He laughed under his breath.
I took off the shoes myself, and Haven got to work. She checked out my feet with so much care that it almost hurt—gently turning them, eyes fixed on the soles.
“This one’s the worst,” she said, looking at a cut. “The rest are just surface stuff.” She glanced up. “I’m going to clean it. It’s going to sting.”
“Okay.”
She wasn’t kidding. I pressed my lips together and stared at the calendar on the wall while she worked—someone’s birthday circled in red marker,goat vetwritten on a Thursday in July.
“You’ve got a few on your knees too,” Haven said. “I’m gonna sterilize them, just to be safe. They shouldn’t sting quite as bad. Luckily, you don’t need any stitches.”
“I could handle it if I did,” I said.
My eyes darted over to Forrest.
He looked…I couldn’t really tell. Angry, I guess.
At who, though?
Peggy came over then and put a plate down in front of me: fluffy pancakes with a big pat of butter, bacon on the side. I thanked her with a smile and a nod, and she dished out food for the others a second later.
Haven took the seat on one side of me…Forrest another. Stetson had come in too, his dog in tow?—
—then I heard laughter erupt down the hall…right before a completely naked toddler came running down the hall.
My eyes went wide as I saw a tall man come down the hall after the toddler, grinning as he scooped the kid up. The kid laughed hysterically as he carried her back down the hall, then I caught sight of a younger child being held in a short, plump woman’s arms.
She was the one who noticed me first of the four of them—looking from me to Forrest to Haven.
“Mornin’, Millie,” Forrest said awkwardly.
“Morning, Forrest,” she said. “Haven…Peggy. And we have a guest…?”
“This is Willa,” Haven said with a big, bright smile. “She’s joining us for breakfast. Maybe longer.”
I blinked fast, wondering if that was really enough of an explanation.
…it was.
Millie didn’t seem to mind at all.
Five minutes later, the whole family was seated at the big table—passing around the syrup, a carafe of juice, another of coffee, creamer. It was loud and raucous, and it threw me off when no one said grace.
And…I started to feel so out of place.
