Fischer shows up shortly after and pulls me into a hug. The girl with him—kind eyes, nervous laugh—meets my gaze, and something settles in my chest.
I like her immediately.
Fischer needs someone like that in his life. Someone sweet. Someone who sees his darkness and accepts him as he is. Someone who can bring a smile to his face.
“I’m glad you came,” I tell her, and I mean it.
Then Reece appears, hands in his pockets, alone. He grins when he sees me, a little sheepish, a little too earnest. He always looks at me like I’m braver than I feel. Like I’m something solid. I think he has a little crush on me, even after all this time, but as long as he never acts on it, we won’t have a problem.
I’m pretty sure my guys will murder him if he makes a move on me.
Actually, there’s no “pretty sure” about it. I’m one-hundred-percent certain Reece will be dead and buried if he even hints at his feelings for me.
“You need help?” he asks.
“Only if you’re good at opening stubborn wine bottles.”
“I’m a hero at that,” he says, dead serious.
I roll my eyes but smile anyway. I’m just so fucking happy. Not even Reece’s unreciprocated crush can ruin my day.
The last knock comes just as we’re all drifting toward the table.
Raymond.
The room stills—not tense, exactly, but careful. He stands there like he’s unsure whether to step forward or retreat. Five years ago, I wouldn’t have opened the door.
Now I do.
“Hi,” I say. My tone is terser than I would’ve liked.
You invited him, Ellie. Remember that. You can’t be a bitch when you extended the olive branch in the first place.
“Hi,” he answers, swallowing convulsively. He looks older. But then again, so do I. “Thanks for inviting me.”
“Thanks for coming.”
It’s not forgiveness. Not fully. But it’s effort. And today, that counts.
Frodo barks from his bed in the corner, his tail wagging. I may not have forgiven Raymond, but my dog certainly has.
Traitor.
We gather around the table, and I marvel at how normal this feels. An innate sense oftogethernesspermeates the air.
It’s crowded in the best way—elbows bumping, laughter spilling, stories starting before the food is even served.
I stand once everyone’s seated, my glass raised. The room instantly quiets like a flame being snuffed out.
For a moment, words stick in my throat.
Five years ago, I didn’t know if I’d survive. If any of us would. We lived in fragments then—borrowed futures, love held tight and quiet, danger lurking around every corner.
Now look at us.
“I used to think family was something you were born into,” I begin, swallowing around the spike in my throat. “Something fixed. But I’ve learned it’s also something you build. With patience. With choice. With love—even when it’s messy or hard or unfinished.”
I glance around the table. At Piper’s infectious grin. Victoria’s nod. Fischer’s tentative happiness. Reece’s pride. Raymond’s hope.