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“You got the stockings right,” Talon praises from his position propped up in the corner.
I glance over at his stocking, hanging in the middle, much longer than ours.
“A third leg is appropriate. Good job, Hollywood,” he goes on, winking at her.
“Talon Simms!” April reprimands, but the entire room is already laughing.
Mark toasts his glass in the air. “My son gets it naturally.”
Rowan turns pink but looks at Hotch expectantly. “Daddy?”
“Hmm?” His eyes stay on the T.V.
“Do you like the house?”
“Can’t see through you, darlin’. How about moving to the side?”
“Daddy! The television is above my head.”
He looks at Cassie. “For three days, I’ve been hanging shit, climbing ladders, and taking orders. You promised me a game in peace.”
She rolls her eyes. “It’s your daughter.”
He harumphs, going back to the screen.
“Daddy, you bull-headed rot, answer my question!” Rowan loses patience and my dick stirs in my jeans.
“It looks like Hallmark threw up on every inch of this place,” he bellows.
Her face breaks out in an ear-splitting grin and she fist-pumps in the air. “Yes!”
She fairy dances around the room to him and plants a loud smack on his forehead.
“How about getting me a piece of that cake?” he mutters.
“How can you be hungry? We’ve been eating for days.”
“It’s Thanksgiving. We’re supposed to eat.”
“I’ll have cake,” Talon agrees.
She shoots him a stern glare. “Not until you get up and walk around. It’s been an hour.”
He slices his eyes to me. “Did you know you’re marrying Nurse Rachet?”
“She’s right, you need to keep circulation going.” April goes behind and propels him forward.
“I’ll walk my ass to get my own cake. Be glad to get our house back tomorrow,” he mutters under his breath.
I feel his pain. The last five days, this house has been bursting with people. I love my family, but it’s time for everyone to go home.
More so, the selfish ass in me wants Rowan back. Tuesday morning was the last time I had any time with her. Between the cooking, shopping, and her business—she’s exhausted. I barely get her in my hold before she’s asleep.
She assured me she’s okay during our conversation the other morning. Part of me thinks she’s pushing herself hard to avoid thinking about that day.
What she saw and heard is bad enough. But shooting a man can have serious backlash. I’m waiting for the realization to hit.
And I’m not alone.
