I might not have my own family, as Noel had put it. Or my own home. But I had my pride, and I refused to show just how lonely I felt for the first time as I sat with the Grisolds and saw the love shining in their eyes for their son.
I really hadn’t ever intended to take his place, but maybe…some part of mehadcast myself in the role. It was a lie, though.
This was Noel’s family.
Not mine.
CHAPTER 7
NOEL
We were all sitting around,eating pie, when a knock came at the door. Hopper jumped, looking uncomfortable. “Probably my dad. I’ll get it. If, uh, if it’s too late?—”
“Nonsense, honey,” my mom said. “Invite him in.”
Strangely, Hopper cast me an uneasy glance. Was I really such an asshole that he expected me to turn away his dad on Thanksgiving? Until Mom told me, I’d had no idea Hopper’s family had fallen apart. I knew they’d lost the farm when his mom got sick—but she must have died after I left for culinary school.
“The more, the merrier,” I said lightly. “We have enough food to feed an army.”
Hopper smiled tightly and pushed away from the table. “Okay, then.”
He went to the door and opened it, and a moment later, an older version of Hopper entered the room. Oy. This version had been living rough. He was tall and broad, just like his son, but he hunched forward, as if there were an invisible weight across his shoulders. His hair was a lighter, washed-out color, threaded through with gray, his beard scraggly and unkempt. His cheeksand nose were flushed red, eyes glazed with a sure sign that he’d enjoyed quite a few alcoholic beverages for the holiday.
“Come sit down,” Hopper said gruffly. “I’ll get you a plate of food. Geez, Dad, did you drive over here?”
His dad waved a hand. “Nah, ole Gerald brought me over. We watched the game together earlier and had a few beers.”
Judging by his dad’s unsteady gait, it was more than just a few beers. But at least he hadn’t driven.
Mr. Kelly sat down heavily and looked around the table. “Mighty nice of ya to feed us bums.” He gave a rusty laugh.
I smiled. “From what I’ve seen, Hopper works pretty hard.”
“Oh, sure, sure. He loves it over here.” He cast a baleful look at Hopper, who’d gone to the kitchen to plate up some leftovers. “Can’t spare a minute for his old man, though.”
Mom made a pained noise. “He loves you, Richard.”
He blew out a breath, grumbling, “Dunno why. Not much to love.”
All this was painting Hopper’s insertion into my family’s life in a different light. Was it possible he wasn’t after their business or their money but just a proper home?
“I’ll go help Hopper.”
I stood up, and Richard blinked at me in confusion. “Who areyou?”
“Uh, I’m Noel.”
“Our son, Richard,” my dad said, sounding exasperated. “You knew we had a son, too.”
“Oh. Huh. Never seen him around before.”
Out of the mouths of old drunks. Richard wasn’t wrong, though. I’d been away a long time, and even before that, my visits had been sporadic. I hadn’t enjoyed revisiting memories of my difficult years at Riverton High, and as a result, I’d started avoiding my home. My parents.
It hadn’t been fair to them.
Hopper was closing up a plastic container as I entered.
“I’m just giving him some of the backup food,” he said when he saw me. “Your other stuff is too good to waste on him.”
