If she only knew how true that already was.
Izzy curls her hand around my waist, her thumb sliding under my sweater and sweeping across my back.
It’s such a small, possessive move. My mind completely malfunctions until I take another sip of wine. “Wait, where’s Annie?”
“Finishing up the Turkey Trot.” Sloane grabs a stack of herbs and tosses them on the cutting board.
Ethan holds out a spoon of gravy for Sloane to taste. “Asked Brooks to pick her up when the race finishes. They should be here soon.”
“Come on, Jack!” June calls. “We made White Russians, and Kathleen won’t play with us anymore. She says we cheat.”
“You do,” we all chorus together.
We’re about to head into the living room when the front door slams open, and my sister, Annie, is wearing a pair of orange sunglasses, the number “43” painted on her cheeks. Hercurly hair is tied back into two messy buns, and she’s wearing a turkey costume.
“Gobble, gobble, bitches.”
“Language, Annie,” Nana yells from the living room.
Annie pivots her attention to Izzy, then me. “Well, the two newest lovebirds are here. I’ll send a full report to Nolan later.”
“Why don’t we call him?” My mom comes to the doorway, her eyes hopeful. She doesn’t talk about Nolan much, my dad either, for that matter. I think their hearts broke when he moved out west. He travels all over to wildfires but never seems to make it back to Merritt Point.
“Kid, you forgot all your shit in my truck,” Brooks says, gently nudging her aside to dump a plastic Market Basket bag at her feet. “Happy Thanksgiving, guys.”
“Stay, Brooks. We saved you a seat at the table,” my mother says.
Brooks basically grew up with us, just like Sloane. He never liked going home, and he and Ethan have been inseparable since kindergarten. For better or worse.
My sister whirls around, wagging her finger at his face. It’s a little funny considering she’s short and he towers over her, and he has a neck tattoo that makes him look like a certified badass, even if it is a butterfly.
“Sure, thanks, Kathleen,” he says, sidestepping my sister.
“If you fucking call me ‘kid’ one more time, Brooks…”
Izzy makes a face at me, and we try to stay quiet.
“You’ll what? Gobble?” He pinches one of her buns, and she stomps on his boot. Hard.
“Shit, Annie. That hurt!”
“Next time, I won’t be so nice,kid.” She takes two big steps away and tosses her orange sunglasses onto the table. “Now, who’s ready to eat some turkey? I’m starving.”
As I expected, Thanksgiving at my parents’ house is chaotic in the best way. Loud, warm, and full of my favorite people. I’m honestly sad to leave. It’s the first time in years I haven’t spent the holiday with my team. We almost always have a game on Thanksgiving, or we’re traveling to one. This year, I’m home, and next week starts a long homestand after one last game in Montreal.
I reach over and take Izzy’s hand in mine over the center console. “You okay? You got quiet.”
She twists the tassels on her oversized plaid scarf. “Just… preparing myself.”
“For?”
“My family.”
There’s something in the way she says it that makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up. I’m already nervous. I never meet the parents. Ever.
“How?”
“Just…” She peeks over at me, the dashboard lights sparkling against her pink satin skirt. “Don’t take anything my mom says personally, okay?”
