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Name it.
Give it a name, call it out, don’t let it be a shameful secret hiding in the dark. Welcome it into the light and deal with the reality of its existence.
“Well, families can be complicated. My mom is in federal prison and I can count on one hand how many conversations I’ve had with my dad.” As soon as the words were out, the pressure that had been building in her chest released. Kara’s mouth curved into a knowing smile. “We do what we have to, to survive. It’s better that Dave loves his mom than the alternative.”
Max scoffed. “But she’s just the worst.”
“Someone who chooses love is the best kind of person. Every time.” She wiped her hands on the towel again and cleared her throat. “Now, someone needs to help me baste.”
* * *
DAVE
“And she comes flying past me, hissing like a crocodile! And once again, Sabine Debois saves my life.” Max slapped his thighs with his palms.
“I’m sorry I missed it,” Dave said. He brought the can of Dr. Pepper to his lips and paused. He didn’t recognize the slithering emotion in his chest, and he didn’t like it.
“And then,” Leslie broke in, “The turkey is thirty pounds, right?”
“Twenty-seven.”
“Shh, you. I’m telling a story.” Leslie shot a wink at Sabine, and that slithering in Dave’s chest moved again.
Sabine crossed her arms over her chest and rolled her eyes. But the smile on her lips belied her irritation.
Dave had arrived not that long ago, and his friends had not been able to stop talking about how amazing Sabine was. How cool, and smart, and fearless, andfun.
God, they’d had so much fun without him.
Because he’d slept through it.
As usual.
“And she’s refusing to let one of us help her,” Leslie continued. He placed a hand on his chest. “You know, the ones with the muscles. She has to clean and prepare it on her own. I walk into the kitchen to see her in mid-wrestle with a raw turkey. And it looks like the turkey is winning.”
“Raw poultry is very slippery,” Sabine interjected.
“And before I can reach her, the turkey shoots out of the sink, and she steps back like a professional wide receiver andcatchesthe raw turkey in her open arms. But it’s too heavy and it knocks her on her ass.”
Dave darted a glance to Sabine to verify, and she nodded, annoyed.
“It also knocked the wind out of me,” she added begrudgingly.
“This is the turkey we’re going to be eating?” Dave asked.
“Oh yeah. Max and I got it in the roaster when she went to wash up.”
“I had to shower again. Couldn’t exactly prepare the rest of the food with my salmonella breastes-es.” Sabine’s lips quirked with her joke as the rest of the room laughed loudly.
She got up from the couch and went back to the kitchen. Dave followed her and took a seat at the island, his back to the television. Where everyone else was drinking ciders and watching football.
“You need a new drink?” she asked when she saw he’d followed her. “I have pink wine,” she offered with a twinkle in her hazel eyes.
He shrugged. “I’m good.”
He watched her take the lid from the roaster and baste the enormous turkey thoroughly. She put the lid back on, checked the temperature setting, and leaned her elbows on the butcher block, those hazel eyes anchoring him to the moment.
“Don’t have a team playing football today?” she asked, lifting her chin toward the television.
