Chapter 1

Ruby

Thanksgiving Day

This was so messed up. I was sitting at a table with a plate of turkey, stuffing, and green bean casserole in front of me. And gravy. Did I mention the fucking gravy? A bunch of people were milling in and out under the pretense of getting another piece of pie.

What they really wanted, I think, was to check me out.

I felt like a fish in a fish bowl, and I wanted out. If my car still ran I would have gotten back in it and kept on going. I didn’t know what I was going to find here. I hadn’t really thought much about it. Only about leaving Tacoma. The letter seemed like a sign.

A get out of your shitty life free card. So I took it, and all the money I could get my hands on that Todd hadn’t stolen. Just got in my car and started driving.

Now I was here and all I wanted to do was leave. There was no real welcome from my half brother. Just a dark scary look when I mentioned my mother. Which I figured, right?

She totally bailed on him. I didn’t even know I had half brother until the letter showed up. I called her down in Mexico when I got it and she was like…

“I put that part of my life behind me.”

That part of her life! It was her fucking son. Not that I should be surprised. I probably should be grateful she stuck around as long as she did with me. I had just graduated from high school when she told me she was leaving with Don for Mexico. I could sublease the apartment from her—thanks, Mom!—but had to find a job that could make rent.

I waited tables and tended bar. I drove for Uber, except my car kept breaking down. It wasn’t enough.

Which is how Todd happened.

But I didn’t want to think about Todd. I wanted to think about how fucking good the gravy was. How nice the pregnant lady was and what an asshole my half brother was. Maybe it was a cowboy thing. The cowboy who had picked me up on the side of the road hadn’t been any charmer.

It was like he was annoyed with me from the get-go, without even knowing me. Most people took weeks to figure out I was mostly an angry bitch.

Except all of that was supposed to change.

I wasn’t going to be that angry person anymore. I wasn’t going to be so mad at everyone all of the time. I wasn’t going to snap. Instead, I was going to smile. Except I hadn’t exactly gotten off to a great start with Cowboy Number One.

Jake, Cowboy Number Two, was over by the door of the kitchen talking to his wife.

Ella.

No, Ellie.

She of the turkey and stuffing and extra gravy extravaganza. Of the guest room that smelled clean and nice. The easy smile that made other people around her want to smile.

Her, I thought. I wanted to be like her.

But I could tell, I was so not her. Miles away from her. How did I get back to that? I used to smile and laugh as a kid. Sometimes. Before fighting with Adele became a constant in my life.

“Something wrong with the food?”

I looked up and it was Cowboy Number One. He also had a plate with him and was sitting down at the table in the kitchen. Everyone else was starting to head out. Bellies full. Gossip to start spreading.

“No,” I muttered. It was too good. Too delicious. Too homey. Like I was the kind of person who could have a homemade Thanksgiving dinner.

That had not been Adele’s thing. Cooking. Or cleaning much. Or holidays in general. She used to say it was all commercial and overrated. She’d even given up on Christmas presents when I was twelve. Said I was too old for that kind of thing anymore.

Too old for Christmas at twelve.

That kind of sucked. Which contributed to me being mad all the time. About everything.

I took a bite of the turkey with the stuffing and gravy all on one forkful. As if to prove how much I enjoyed it. Not that I had to prove anything to Cowboy Number One.

Which I guess I could have asked his name. Had I even said thank you for driving me? I had been so nervous on the way here. Fearful that my half brother was going to take one look at me and tell me to get the hell off his property. Which I’m not sure if his wife Ellie wasn’t around, he very well might have.

Anyway, this was supposed to be a new start. That change had to start with me.

“Thank you for the ride.”

He scowled at that. “What are you up to?”

“What am I up to?” I parroted. Escape. A new life. A job. Family? But that was probably going way to far.

“Yeah. What’s your game? These are good people, and I swear to God if you’re here to rip them off…”

“I’m not a thief, if that’s what you’re suggesting.” I was a lot of things. I wasn’t that. I didn’t want to steal from them. “What’s your problem anyway? You don’t even know me.”

He took a forkful of food and eyed me warily. Like I was a cat about to pounce.

“You show up here, out of the blue. With no plan. Dropping a bomb on a guy that he’s got a sister.”

“Hey,” I protested. “I didn’t drop the bomb. I got a letter in the mail telling me about a baby on the way.” Or at least my mother did. “I was curious and wanted to meet them. What’s the big deal?”

“On Thanksgiving. With no notice? I don’t buy it. You’re running from something, and people who run usually have trouble coming after them.”

“Well, I don’t.”

Todd had no idea I was leaving, let alone having a clue about where I was going. He could ping my phone I guess… but why would he bother?

“Yeah, well just know I’m watching you. I don’t give a shit what your sob story is, I’m not letting you hurt these people. Not when they’ve got a baby coming. You ever live outside a city?”

I shook my head. Born and raised in Tacoma. Which wasn’t anyone’s definition of a big city. More like a poorer suburban sprawl an hour south of Seattle.

“I didn’t think so, Seattle. FYI, around here nobody gets a free ride. You aren’t a guest. We’ll see how long you last once your city hands start getting dirty.”

“I’m not afraid of work,” I said. I wasn’t. I had been working at least twenty hours a week since I was sixteen. I could handle anything they threw at me—I just hoped they would throw something at me. Instead of telling me to get lost, which they had every right to do.

I had no illusions this was going to be some kind of family reunion. I just wanted… a chance.

“You know, I started this conversation thanking you for helping me and you’ve done nothing but shit on me. FYI, you’re an asshole. Happy Thanksgiving.”

He didn’t respond to that. Instead he finished the food on his plate. When he was done he excused himself, which I supposed meant he had a mother who raised him right, and left the room.