Page 133

We all slowly turn our heads.

My future monster-in-law crosses her arms. “That’s for lying about my son.”

“You have better aim than that, Carmen,” Dad says.

Mom plucks the knife out of the wall and spins it in her hand. “Did you really want us to tell you he was—”

“How about we don’t throw knives on Thanksgiving?” Lawton drawls, wrapping his arms around my waist.

I lean back into him. “You’re no fun.”

“Who’s throwing knives?” Bobbi says, breezing into the kitchen with a saran-wrapped pie.

“Who do you think?” I say, still burrowed against Lawton’s body. “The in-laws.”

Mrs. Montoya huffs from the counter and resumes aggressively chopping potatoes, but she doesn’t tear up this time. She started gratitude journaling again, which she hasn’t done in almost two years. It took a lot of inappropriate and poorly timed jokes to dig herself out of that hole, but she made it. She still has bad days, but there are more good ones now.

Arch hovers at Bobbi’s side, which is exactly where he’s been since the infamous mountain lion incident. I’m glad. Bobbi needs someone to keep her in check.

She yanks me into a hug before shoving a candle in my face. “Smell this. It’s new.”

I give it a careful sniff, trying to parse through the scents. “Cinnamon. Pumpkin. Clove, no ginger, and… Is that vanilla?”

Bobbi nods. “It’s not too overpowering, right?”

I give it another sniff. “Smells like… A Perfect Fall Day?”

“That’s the name I picked!” She squeals. “Soulmates. We’re soulmates.”

This time, I don’t contradict her. It’s been over a year since I bought another Betta fish.

Becoming a co-owner of Cowboy Candles (aka Corpse Candles) wasn’t exactly part of my five-year plan, but I needed to be better about recycling, and Bobbi convinced me that it’s the most sustainable method of disposal. Corpse repurposing, she calls it. Just think of it like a thrifted candle, Sabrina.

Our “repurposed corpses” sell out every Saturday at the farmers market.

“Give her back, Bobs,” Lawton says, dragging me into his warm chest. “She’s mine today.”

“Excuse me, I’m yours forever,” I say.

Lawton presses his lips to mine, slow and soft, but I slip in some tongue because I can’t get enough of him. He chuckles against my mouth and then pulls back to kiss my forehead.

“So, besides our parents’ thriving in-law relationship,” I say. “What’re you thankful for this year?”

“You,” he says simply. “I’m real happy I didn’t pull that trigger when I first saw you in Malibu.”

I rest my head on his chest. “I know. We would’ve missed out on all this fun.”

He quirks a brow. “Fun?”

I kiss him again. “You’re right. We would’ve missed out on all this deeply dysfunctional family trauma.”

“Who needs therapy when you’ve got an arsenal of inappropriate death jokes?”

“Um, us. We do.”

“Lawton!” his mom shouts from the living room. “It’s time to carve the turkey!”

He presses his lips to my neck, swaying us together. “You want to do the honors, darlin’?”

I can’t help but smile. “I’ll get the chainsaw.”