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“What about you guys?” I asked as I turned into Mom’s driveway.

“It’s a different kind of connection, man. Not less, but not the same. I’m just the lucky bastard who’s known both.”

The truck idled for a moment longer than necessary. I nodded once and shut off the engine.

24

Family Thanksgiving

Boston, MA

Louisa

I waited until the engine shut off.

My legs were asleep, my hands numb. But I stayed still, cheek pressed to the cold metal of the truck bed, until I heard them clambering around the back seat. Only then did I slither over the tailgate, letting my boots touch the ground gently.

I couldn’t hear what they were saying but they seemed to be in their feelings, talking low and close, taking their sweet time gathering shit to take inside. Will hadn’t even clocked the random blanket in the truck bed.

What if I was a murderer? Male privilege is wild.

I ducked into the tall shrubs flanking the porch and waited while they came up the walk. Then, just as they passed, I slipped in behind them, matching their steps up the stairs.

Right before Will opened the door, I leaned in between them.

“Fuck,” I muttered, “I forgot the bread.”

Has screamed like a girl—wavy hands, tippy toes—exactly the reaction I wanted. Will stumbled forward and tried to swing his grocery bag around like he was going to knock me out with a carton of eggs. I pulled off my hat so they could see the face of the woman who bested them. I was grinning like a lunatic.

“Jesus Christ, Louisa! I nearly ended your life with a can of cranberry sauce,” he cried. “Why were you wearing a balaclava? Holy fuck.”

Has had his hands on his knees, trying to recover.

“I brought your inhaler just in case,” I handed it to him. Worth it.

“You are seriously the worst, Lou,” Has said, breathless. “You better watch your fucking back.”

Will seemed pretty delighted once he’d gotten over the surprise. He tousled my hair with a gloved hand.

“You look a little disheveled, sis.” His eyes were crinkled on the sides from smiling and warmth spread over my face. He held the door open for me to go inside.

“It was a longer ride than I expected. You drive like a grandma.”

Will’s mom was a fucking stunner. Ortiz had called her The Mam, which sounded dowdy to me, and Will was such a dad that I think I expected her to be more of a… quaint Irish mammy, maybe?

Instead, Maeve Hawkins looked like she could be Will’s hot older sister. He’d mentioned that his parents had him young, that her parents had been furious that she refused to marry Connor just because she was pregnant. I sat on the stool while she told the story. They’d both been disowned. One of Connor’s teachers found him a job in Boston and helped them move.

It was kind of crazy, and she was a really good storyteller.

“No one should get married ‘cause they tink they must,” she said. Yes, girl. “I thought I never would, ye know. But when I finally did—Liam was almost seven—I was proud to marry his da ‘cause I truly loved him and to know that eejit loved me just as fiercely.”

“Marriage has never interested me, either,” I said.

“I tink it’s a bit loaded fer women, it is. Ye won’t find me disagreein’ even as a missus.”

“So what made you change your mind?” I asked her. She had an interesting perspective.

“I dint, really. I just knew it meant somethin’ to Con an’ he meant somethin’ to me. And we both changed our names—became each other’s and Liam’s,” she was smiling as she skillfully chopped potatoes, “I’d lost me family, ye see. It meant somethin’ to me to make me own.”