TWELVE
Eli
We let it drop, like I said to, for over a week.
The next morning, we had woken up to Peyton in the kitchen in full-on 1950s gear with a full skirt, a frilly waist apron, heels, her hair pulled up into some intricate up-do, and her makeup done flawlessly. She had a giant metal bowl on her hip, mixing something as the smell of sizzling bacon made my stomach grumble.
"What is this, June Cleaver?" Autumn asked, reaching up to try to pat down her hair.
"Whatever do you mean, dear?" she asked, sugar sweet. "I always get up at six AM to get ready for my day so I can get to my womanly duties."
Autumn bumped my hip as her sister turned to drop batter into a warm pan. "She's a nut. Just roll with it," she said, giving her sister a fond smile.
She was that.
A nut, quirky, a real character.
One moment, impersonating a 1950s housewife, the next, cursing like a sailor and explaining the rape-fantasy book she just read.
I took my coffee, standing back, and watching the two play off each other with the sarcastic, teasing, playful ease that only siblings could manage, poking fun without hurting feelings.
I felt it then.
A tug.
An urge.
I wasn't stupid.
I knew it for what it was.
I missed them.
See, this thing with Autumn and me, it was a mix of amazing and awful. Amazing because she was an incredible woman. I found myself thinking about her way too fucking much, missing her even though we had just started seeing each other. She was smart, accomplished, sweet, fun, and sexy as all get-out.
The shit we had going on, I had a feeling it was going somewhere.
Meaning somewhere that could possibly be permanent.
The awful part was, well, in letting her in, in letting down my guards with her, I was losing the ability to keep them in place even when I wasn't around her.
So watching her interact with her sibling was affecting me in ways I promised myself it wouldn't, that I couldn't allow.
But there it was anyway.
The next few days, Autumn went to work. When Peyton wasn't around, I took Coop back to my place so I could get my pieces done. I finished the two large ones, and moved onto some smaller pieces that ended up being softer, warmer.
I only had one medium-sized piece to work on to be ready for the show.
After work, Autumn would come to me, or I would meet her at her apartment, leaving Peyton to doggy-sit so we could go out.
It wasn't smart.
To wine and dine her.
To create memories with her.
When every day, I felt that tug again.
That urge.
That desire.
Connection.
Loyalty.
Family.
I think it was impossible when you were considering settling down with someone not to think about things like family, like foundations, like what you could bring together.
And the more that idea came to mind, the more I thought about what Autumn had told me.
About Fee crying.
And Dusty.
Scotti.
Lea.
Each time the image came up, I had to take a deep breath and try to let it go.
Then, of course, there was my mother.
I had been able to put up walls about my brothers, my father.
But my mother? Yeah, I had needed to try to completely keep her from my mind all those years. If she popped up, I knew she would ruin me, destroy all the guards I had built.
So hearing that each holiday that passed with no contact was actually weighing on her that much, that she was crying - my badass motherfucking mother who never took any shit, never let anything get to her - was crying every holiday? Yeah, that shit burrowed deep, took root, and started spreading outward.
Soon, it was all I could think about.
"What's the matter?" Autumn asked, pushing up off my chest, watching me with lowered brows, her silky blonde hair spilling forward and brushing her breasts.
We'd just fucked for almost an hour - rough and hard and slightly kinky, a combination that made orgasms completely wreck her. She loved soft and sweet too, but the hard and rough made her scream loud enough for the neighbors to bang on the wall.
But still, as she sat up and her body was all sex flushed still, yeah, I was almost ready for another round.
"Thinking," I admitted, reaching out to brush some of her hair behind her shoulder.
"About?"
I exhaled a deep breath.
If I had been thinking about it for a week and a half, it was about time to open a dialog about it.
"Thanksgiving."
Her lips parted and she blinked hard. That was all she gave away for a long second before she nodded. "Okay," she said, giving me a small smile. "What about Thanksgiving?"
"I'm thinking about it."
"Ah, as in thinking about it as a tradition based on the slaughter of the natives or... like considering going to your family's house for it?"
I smiled at that, running my fingers down her arm.
I would never get used to the softness of her skin, no matter how many times I put my hands on it.
"I was thinking maybe we could commemorate a terrible time in our country's history by breaking bread with my family."
I swear to Christ, she lit the fuck up.
If I wasn't sure it was a good idea before, the way her smile went proud was all the proof I needed that I was making the right decision.
"That's awesome, Eli. I'm so glad you decided to go. They're going to be so happy to see you."
"Us," I said, shaking my head.
"What?"
"They are going to be so happy to see us. I want you to come with me."
It happened almost simultaneously.
A surging joy.
Then a crushing disappointment.
"I always do Thanksgiving with..."
"Bring Peyton. She'll have a fucking blast there. She can wear one of her ridiculous 1950s get-ups."
"Really?" she asked, and there was the joy again.
"Really," I agreed.
"This is going to be so great," she declared, moving to snuggle back on my chest, planting a kiss there.
I wasn't quite as sure.
Six years.
Six years of me pushing them away.
I didn't have any idea how it was going to go, what might come up - for them, and for me.
All I knew was I had just committed to it.
Come what may.