Chapter 26
The next morning, Tank woke up to find Lissa already in the shower. He went to join her, which made the shower take an unreasonably long time, and caused Xander to start catcalling outside the door.
Fuck it, there was no privacy anywhere.
Lissa didn’t seem to mind. In fact, she seemed pleased that the others were all gathered in the main cabin for breakfast. Flynn was making pancakes, and Flynn’s pancakes were legendary.
Jasmin never cooked in the morning—she stayed up half the night roaming the forest, and if she showed up in the mornings at all, it was to sit in the corner and drink coffee and snarl at anyone who tried to talk to her. This morning she was curled up in one of the big leather armchairs, her hair over her face, drinking a latte from the built-in espresso machine.
Xander walked by her and stopped. “Whoa, Kitty,” he said. “Where’d you get those scratches? Get into it with a mountain lion last night?”
Jasmin hissed at him. “Do you want your balls stuffed up your nostrils?”
Xander put up his hands and stepped back, grinning. “I hope you haven’t been trespassing on the Nashville pack’s territory, Kitty,” he said. “The dogs don’t like it.”
“Park land’s open to everybody,” Jasmin said. “Long as there’s no bodies, no harm, no foul.”
“So where’d you hide the bodies?” Sloan asked.
Everybody laughed, and Jasmin gave him the finger.
Flynn gave Jasmin a sideways look, hands busy flipping pancakes. Tank knew he didn’t want Jasmin causing trouble with the Nashville wolf pack—things were already tense ever since one of them had led an attack on their crew and nearly killed them all.
But the occasional brawl wasn’t against anyone’s rules, so he was letting it slide. For now.
Because he didn’t want to get into it? Or because he was afraid Jasmin wouldn’t obey him, and he’d lose what little authority he had?
Maybe Lissa was right. Maybe it was time they did become a real crew. Things were too unsettled, the way they were.
Lissa, however, had decided not to wait. Just as everyone was digging into their pancakes, she said, “I think we should have a Thanksgiving celebration.”
Everyone turned and stared at her.
“Um, why?” Xander said.
Lissa rolled her eyes. “Because that’s what everybody does in the whole United States of America, dork,” she said. “I’ve always wanted to get up on Thanksgiving morning and lie on the living room floor in my pajamas and watch the Macy’s Day parade. And make a turkey and eat myself stupid and then argue with my imaginary family over whether we’re going to watch football on TV, or a figure skating special.”
“Hockey,” Xander said immediately.
“I think there’s a MacGyver marathon on,” Sloan put in. “The real one, not that lame-ass remake.”
“I like MacGyver,” Tank said, trying to help Lissa out. It wasn’t such a bad idea, really. Anything with food was a hit with the crew. “And I like hockey. And turkey.”
He tried to steal a piece of bacon off Lissa’s plate while she was distracted, and she smacked him with her fork. He winked at her.
“You do get that Thanksgiving is tomorrow, right?” Jasmin said in her gravelly voice. “And football is nonnegotiable. Not to mention that if anybody’s cooking a turkey here, it’s me. I’ve always wanted to try doing one on the grill.”
She gave Lissa a baleful look. “But I hate Thanksgiving.”
“Me too,” Xander said. “Maybe you’re all bummed out because you never had a happy Thanksgiving, but some of us would rather not think about families. Or the past. Or holidays. Or—”
“Oh, shut the fuck up and go back up your jungle tree, python bait,” Lissa said, shocking everyone. “Or I’ll change as far as I can and slap you with my bear claws.”
Flynn stopped cooking long enough to give her a long, slow look, and Jasmin grinned, wincing as it pulled the healing scabs on her face.
Lissa looked around the room.
“Listen up, all of you,” she said. “I’m sorry my story isn’t as sad as yours. I’m sorry I only had to leave home when I was sixteen because my stepfather threw my mother down the stairs when she objected to him wanting to have sex with me. I’m sorry I only had to survive on the streets on my own, living in squats and taking up with any crew that would protect me. I’m sorry I was only Turned against my will and almost raped by an insane rogue shifter wizard, and that now I’m only probably going to die because I can’t let my bear out.
“Nobody really understands what everybody else went through, and maybe what you all went through was so bad you have no choice but to stay here and wallow in it, each of you all by yourselves in your misery. But I decided a long time ago I wasn’t going to let any fucker who tried to mess me up take away my ability to be happy. That I would find the things in life to enjoy and enjoy them, because that’s all you have. Just moments. And it can all go to hell in a second. So I say we take back one damn day, and eat food together and drink Alexander Grant’s liquor and watch his satellite TV, and fight and end up all fat and pissed off like a normal family. Is that so much to ask?”
She glared around the room. Flynn was leaning against the counter, grinning, and the rest of them were staring at her in stupefaction.
Including Tank. Holy hell, she was going to shame this entire crew into celebrating a holiday. Together.
Flynn said, “As alpha of this crew, I proclaim we’re having Thanksgiving. That’s an order. Jaz, you’re in charge of the food. Put together a list, and we’ll get a shopping trip together.”
Sloan said, “I like sweet potatoes with marshmallows. I can make those.”
Jasmin was staring into space, muttering, “Turkey on the grill. Chestnut stuffing. Grilled green beans…”
“Great,” Lissa said, looking around the room with satisfaction. “I’ll get my computer and look up the TV schedule for figure skating.”
“Hockey!” Xander called after her as she headed out the door.