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When we pull up to the main house on the ranch, rain pounding the roof like a thousand drumsticks, Knox is already on the porch under the awning. He opens the car door for me, his smile bright despite the storm, umbrella opened to guide me in.

“No one came to give me an umbrella,” Riley whines, and I roll my eyes and tell Knox, “Ignore her.”

We slip up the front porch steps and watch Riley wipe her feet and head in.

I smile at him. “Hi.”

“Hi. You seem happy,” he says, leaning in to kiss me hello. His lips press to mine, sweet and slow and soft and so warm that I want to curl up right here on his porch. “Makes me happy.”

“I feel happy.” I nod, certain and sure. “I wish it wasn’t raining, though.”

“Yeah, although…” He smirks, brushing a thumb along my chin. “I have very fond memories on this porch in the rain.”

I grin. “Funny, so do I. Maybe we could…recreate it later. For the sake of giving thanks and all.”

“I would say yes”—he tsks—“but it’s supposed to get pretty bad. Mom said the county issued a severe storm warning right before we’re supposed to eat. Pretty harsh lightning and high wind speeds. She already put pillows and like seven days’ worth of emergency food in the storm shelter.”

“That sounds like your mom.” I laugh and follow him to the front door.

When we step inside, the house is warm—literally and figuratively. Someone’s playing country Christmas music. The scent of something buttery and delicious fills the air. Walker is helping Lottie carry a tray of rolls. Knox’s dad and uncle Miller are arguing over the correct ratio of mashed potatoes to gravy.

Some of the ranch crew is here too—people I’ve gotten used to seeing every few days over the years of visiting. The ones whose families are far away or just not here anymore, and they’re all spread throughout the home.

There’s noise and laughter and movement everywhere.

I check the time on the clock against the far wall of the kitchen. Mom is supposed to get here in the next hour, so I take my phone out from my back pocket and call her. It rings. And rings. All the way to her voicemail, a familiar tone I’ve heard hundreds of times by now.

“Weird,” I mutter. “We just talked like thirty minutes ago.”

Knox’s brow pulls tight. “What’s the last thing she said?”

I pull up our messages. “She said the Uber cost more than she expected, and her luggage was overweight, so she had to pay extra.”

“So…she asked for money?”

“Well, it was more like I offered. She said she could handle it, but she’s a guest.”

“Right.” He draws out the word slowly, his tone incredulous. “How much?”

“It’s not like I need the money—”

“How much, Felicity?”

I wince. “…Seven hundred?”

“Seven hundred?” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Love, I don’t think—”

“Please…don’t. Okay? Yell at me all you want when she gets to her Airbnb tonight, but don’t do it now.”

“I wasn’t going to yell.”

“It feels like you were.” I poke his chest lightly. “Besides, I’m pretty sure Rowen feels bad enough that he’ll give me a raise, so I’ll recover pretty fast.”

Knox shrugs, and just like that, we fall back into Thanksgiving as everyone gathers around the table. Knox helps his mom set the table and squeezes my waist every time he passes by, sending a little wink my way.

Everyone takes their seats around us, and Knox’s mom clasps her hands. “All right, you all know the drill. Everyone say one thing they’re thankful for.”

I do know this drill, I just pictured it going a little differently. Pictured the extra seat beside me not being empty.