Sable Peak (The Edens)

Thanksgiving. Dad’s favorite holiday.

Was he eating turkey tonight? Last year, he’d killed one to cook over the fire. Did he even know it was Thanksgiving?

The days and months and years tended to blend together when you lived without phones or calendars or jobs or schedules. But Dad had always kept track of the date by his automatic watch. What if it had stopped working? What if he’d decided tracking time was pointless? Did he know how long it had been since I’d left?

It had been over a year since I’d seen my father.

The day I’d left, he’d told me he loved me. Never forget how much I love you. When I asked if I’d see him again, he’d said, “Of course.”

That was a promise, right? Dad kept his promises.

Where was he? I’d spent the spring, summer and fall in the mountains outside Quincy. I’d searched and searched and searched for any sign.

Either there wasn’t one to be found. Or …

He was alive. He’s alive.Content protected by Nôv/el(D)rama.Org.

“Vera?” Lyla’s fingers touched my wrist.

I jerked, startled, and my fork clattered to my plate.

“Are you okay?” Her eyebrows knitted together.

“Great.” I forced a smile and picked up my fork. “Just really full. Dinner was delicious.”

She didn’t buy the act. Neither did Vance.

He stretched an arm past the back of her chair toward mine to put his hand on my shoulder.

I stabbed the last bite of turkey on my plate and popped it in my mouth, smiling as I chewed.

Vance and Lyla shared a look—they knew my smile was a fake—but they didn’t push it, not with so many people crammed around the Edens’ dining room table.

It wasn’t fair that I was here, sharing a feast with this lovely family, while Dad was alone. Because I’d left him alone.

And I was surrounded by Edens.

There were so many overlapping conversations happening at once, I couldn’t keep up. Or maybe I just wasn’t in the mood to try.

The only voice I never missed was Mateo’s.

He sat directly across the table, though his chair was angled so he could feed Alaina.

I wished I had been seated beside him. He’d pulled out a chair for me earlier, offering it up. But then Vance had told me to come around the table and sit beside Lyla.

I should have taken the chair beside Mateo anyway. If I was sitting beside him, I would have been so worried about saying the right thing, doing the right thing, that I wouldn’t have even started thinking about Dad. I would have been too busy trying to not sound ridiculous when I offered to take the tomatoes from Mateo’s salad.

He hated raw tomatoes. Cooked was fine. Ketchup was his favorite condiment, and he loved marinara sauce. But his lip curled at the cherry tomatoes Anne had cut up for the green salad.

I liked tomatoes, in any size, shape or form.

But I didn’t offer to take them. I was sitting too far away.

We never sat by each other. Why was that? Because of the high chair? Even though Anne had offered to feed Alaina tonight, he’d insisted on doing it himself.

He wasn’t a good dad, he was a great dad. He loved that girl with his entire heart.

It was hard to stop crushing on Mateo Eden. Impossible, actually.

Over the past three months, I’d done everything in my power to forget about that wedding dance. To banish these feelings and forget about him. I’d even gone on one—and only one—date.

The guy had been a regular at the coffee shop. He’d shown up thirty minutes later than the time we’d arranged to meet at Knuckles, and after our meal, he’d told me he’d forgotten his wallet, so I’d had to pay.

Wasn’t crushing on a good man, a great father, better? Even if he didn’t know I existed? Sure. Sort of.

Maybe Mateo would only ever see me as a sister slash friend. Maybe I was okay with that.

If I was being honest with myself, I was in no place for a relationship. I had more small steps to take. More leaps. I was still discovering what I liked and what I didn’t.

So while I worked on me, I’d hold him in my heart. He’d be my ray of sunshine to chase away the rain.

“Bzzzz.” He made an airplane noise as he flew a spoon of sweet potatoes over Allie’s tray.

It was addicting, watching them together. Watching that bond grow stronger and stronger. Every day, he seemed to fall deeper and deeper in love with his daughter. And the affection was returned.

Alaina’s blue eyes sparkled as she opened wide for that airplane spoon.

I smiled, the first real smile of the meal.

Allie kicked her chubby legs as she pinched a green bean with her little fingers and shoved it into her mouth. Her Gobble Gobble bib was smeared with mashed potatoes. There were even some in her hair.

Mateo used the spoon to clean up her chin. “You’re a mess, Sprout.”

He’d started calling her Sprout not long after Vance and Lyla’s wedding. The first time I’d heard him, at a family dinner at this very table, I’d had to excuse myself to the bathroom to hide the tears.

Vance had snuck away to check on me two minutes later.

Dad had called Elsie Sprout. And he’d called Hadley Jellybean.

Vance had offered to talk to Mateo, ask him to pick a different nickname. But I’d told him to leave it alone. My sister would have loved sharing a nickname with Alaina.

And because I wouldn’t want Hadley to be left out, I’d started calling Allie Jellybean.

Sometimes it hurt less. Sometimes it hurt more.

Tonight … tonight was a bad night.

I missed my sisters.

I missed my dad.

I didn’t like Thanksgiving.