Brock swept in and engulfed me, wrapping me up and snuggling me against his navy wool coat. Brant followed and closed the door behind them.
I had no words. I was consumed with Brock’s sandalwood scent and the way I felt at home in his arms.
Brock kissed my head. “Happy Thanksgiving, Dani.”
I pulled away enough to look up into his beautiful face which, for the first time in a long time, looked settled, even happy. “How? Why?” I couldn’t put together full sentences.
He grinned before brushing my lips with his. “I couldn’t imagine not being with you today.”
Now I was tearing up.
“I sprang him,” Brant spoke up.
My head whipped toward him, just as surprised to see him. I thought he was spending the holiday in hell with the Copelands. His twit fiancée had been bragging all over the news about how they always do Thanksgiving up at some ridiculously high-priced inn located in Virginia. If Brant was staying in the race, she was going to be a liability—she was so out of touch. I wanted to hug Brant, too, but didn’t know how Brock would feel about it. But he looked like he could use a good hug. While Brock looked refreshed, Brant looked worn and forlorn. Without another thought, I grabbed Brant’s coat and pulled him toward us for a group hug. My men didn’t hesitate and sandwiched me between them. The Three Musketeers were together again. I felt whole.
“Okay now,” Grandma called. “Now that all the family is here, let’s eat.”
I looked between Brock and Brant. They were my family. I knew then that I would do whatever I could to keep it that way, even if it meant forgiving myself and working my way back to trusting my husband.
“Happy Thanksgiving, you two.”Chapter Twenty-EightBrock sat extra close to me at the kids’ table. Brant sat across from us. Grandpa had the two chairs just waiting for them in kitchen. Apparently, all the other adults in the room had known about our surprise visitors. It was a tight fit, but I think Brant appreciated not having to sit next to Kinsley and Tristan. There had already been furtive looks between them. Thankfully, the joy of their arrival overshadowed any awkwardness. Still, I had so many questions. Like what about Jill? Where were John and Sheridan? And what was John keeping from all of us? For now, though, I enjoyed the way Brock held my hand and kept stealing kisses. Wow, had the treatment center done him good. His eyes were bright. No demons lingered in them. Which wasn’t to say he had vanquished them forever—I knew how PTSD worked and that there wasn’t a cure, per se—but it was clear he was learning to cope. It was good to see some peace back in his eyes.
Ariana stood with her ukulele, ready to regale us with her annual blessing song. I could already tell she was going to get choked up by it. This past year had been a big one for her in so many good ways.
“No laughing.” She eyed her brothers at our table.
“No promises,” they shouted back in unison.
Dean and Sabine shook their heads at their incorrigible sons.
Ariana ignored them and strummed a couple of chords. “It’s that time of year again, where we gather to be thankful. This year we have been much blessed. To start we have grown. Seeds of love we have sown. Welcome my husband, Jonah, and my daughter, Whitney,” her voice broke. “Your love has filled me. To Dean and Sabine, you have been a dream. Sebastian and Max, I’m only spouting the facts. You are the best brothers, but sometimes I want to smother ya.”
Max and Sebastian laughed loudly, holding their midsections.
Ariana looked in our direction. “There is one more husband we have added to the crew. Brock, it’s about time you finally had some sense and got off the fence. I know this year has been intense, but are we ever glad for your presence. May you and your wife live a long, happy life.”
Brock wrapped his arm around my shoulder, and I leaned into him, feeling safe and warm. A long, happy life together sounded good. Easier said than done, I knew, but I was feeling hopeful.
Ariana continued on. “And how could we forget the Brit who lights up our Kinsley’s world.”
I sneaked a peek at Brant, who kept his head down. Poor guy. But it was better this way. Kinsley didn’t deserve the wrath of the Copelands.
“We are so glad you both decided to give it a whirl.”
Tristan kissed Kinsley, making her blush. It was adorable.
“Then there is Brant, who is making all the political heads twirl. We know you won’t leave it to fate. Come next November, it will be checkmate.”
Brant tugged on his collar and looked at Brock and me as if begging for some relief. If only we could give him some. If only I could have warned Ariana about Brant’s plans. Though I wasn’t even sure of all of them. Still, I knew by the anguish in his eyes that his dreams were all but gone. I hoped my own eyes conveyed how much I appreciated his sacrifice and how much I wished I could make it all better.