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.
THIRTEEN
Lea
The dining room had been expanded five years before.
When Scotti joined the family, bringing with her her four brothers. Then, in time, their women. And, of course, the litters of kids all the Mallick women had been popping out.
Charlie and Helen had decided that they didn't need their two-car garage, had it renovated, and made into a massive space that was practically like that of a venue hall. There were two long, custom-made tables almost from wall-to-wall - one for the kids, the other for the adults.
Fee was in the process of dragging three extra chairs in from the basement.
"Fee," Helen said, brows drawn low and together. "What are you doing? I put out enough chairs."
"Oh, oops," Fee said, making a grimace, pretending she just miscounted. As Helen shook her head and looked away, Fee's eyes met Lea's from across the room.
She saw a look she was worried about in Fee's eyes.
Hope.
God, there had been so much disappointed hope for them all over the years. Lea wasn't sure if any of them could handle any more of it.
And, well, Lea just didn't think there was much of a chance of him showing up, no matter how much she wished he would.
They needed him.
He was a ghost in the corners, haunting the room.
He was the redness to Helen's eyes that no matter how many times she smiled or laughed or made jokes could erase.
She had spent another holiday morning crying.
Lea had a feeling she was going to spend another holiday night doing the same again.
Her eyes went across the room to the three chairs, and her heart ached in her chest.
"What's that look for, baby?" Shane asked, coming up behind her, wrapping his arms around her center, leaning down to press a sweet kiss to her neck.
"What look?" she deflected, shrugging.
"That guarded, but sad look," he clarified, making her stomach churn. There wasn't much she could keep from him, not after so many years.
So she decided to go with most of the truth.
"Eli."
There was a pause, followed by his deep exhale, making her hair rustle as he pressed his chin into her shoulder.
"Yeah."
"Yeah," she agreed, nodding, her eyes going to the hauntingly empty chairs.
"Some day," he said, giving her a squeeze, before moving away to tear Jake and Joey apart. They were all Mallick. Five years, and all they did was wail on each other and tease one another. Usually, the Mallick way of parenting was pretty hands-off, believing the kids needed to learn to work things out themselves. The only reason he was stepping in was because they had knocked into the sidebar where the buffet was getting set up, complete with open flames for keeping food warm.
Jake and Joey, the twins.
Six-year-old Jason.
Their little one-year-old angel Sam.
Not one of them had ever met their uncle.
At this rate, maybe they never would.
She was getting accustomed to that knife in her gut sensation after so long, but it still pierced. Just not as bad as it did the time before.
She exhaled, trying to shake the mood, trying to get into the spirit, always wanting to keep holidays upbeat for the kids even if the adults were all struggling.
There was a sudden squeal from the window where Fee and Hunt's youngest girl, Mayla, six and a half years old, was standing inside the curtain, looking out. She had met her
uncle, but would never remember.
"Mommy!" she shrieked, making Fee look over her shoulder.
"Yeah, honey?"
"There's a dog here! An ugly cute dog here!"
Fee's head snapped back, looking at the chairs, then up at Lea, smile triumphant.
Lea's eyes went to the chairs as a feeling she didn't even have a name for spread across her chest.
He was home.
Just like that, the ghosts were gone.
FOURTEEN
Autumn
It was a beautiful house.
If ever I had wondered about how profitable loansharking was, all my questions were answered when we all pulled up in my car - because Peyton adamantly refused to try to climb up and squeeze into the tiny backseat of the cab in Eli's truck - and parked in the winding driveway.
It had to be four-thousand square feet, easily, and every inch of it cost a fortune.
"You okay?" I asked, looking over at Eli in my driver's seat, staring at the house like it might come alive to bite his head off.
Peyton leaned up between the seats, looking at Eli's profile.
"I think this is where people are supposed to make one of those 'band-aid' comments. But I am going to appeal to your stomach. I swear I can smell the turkey from here. Plus, Coop is freaking out," she added, making me aware for the first time that he was scratching at the window in the back. Which was weird; he was always good in the car.
"Let's go," Eli agreed, tone a bit dead, making my stomach tense.
It was good we were here.
But it wouldn't be good if he went in there all hollow, like he had been when he got out of prison.
Though, maybe they wouldn't even notice, being too overjoyed with his presence at all.
I reached for my door as Peyton fought with Coop so he didn't launch himself out without her.
She had chosen against the 1950s get-up Eli had actually seriously suggested to her. Instead, she was surprisingly subdued in a long, roomy deep teal, heavy-knit sweater that went slightly off-shoulder and came almost halfway down her thighs. She had black tights on underneath and a pair of camel-colored knee-high boots. There were three necklaces hanging down her chest in varying lengths; her hair was pulled in a side braid, and her makeup was mostly just some mascara.
She was naturally almost painfully gorgeous even if she preferred to usually go a little crazier with her makeup and clothes.
As for me, I struggled with my outfit for almost an hour, trying on one after another in front of Eli before he finally lost patience, jumped up, and went into my closet himself.
He came back with a white sweater with elastic on the waist and sleeves, tight deep brown skinny jeans, and a pair of brown flat, calf-height boots.
And, well, it was leaps and bounds better than anything I had chosen. Because he picked it out, too, I knew it was the right kind of outfit for his type of family functions. I didn't know if it was a dressy-dressy thing or a casual thing. This was something in between. Comfortable, seasonable, but put-together.
I left my hair down, did a little mascara, clasped on some studs, and called it a day.
"Breathe," Peyton said behind my shoulder as she got a hold of Coop, and Eli rounded the hood of the car.
He came up to me, reaching down to link his pinky with mine, then leading us toward the back of the house where there was a giant deck meant for entertainment, and sliding glass doors.
He didn't knock.
He didn't ring.
Hell, he didn't even pause.
I wondered if maybe he was worried he wouldn't be able to do it if he didn't just charge right in.
I squeezed his pinky as he pushed the door open, then stepped inside.
I lost his pinky, having to follow in behind him.
We stepped into a massive kitchen dominated by giant stainless steel appliances, an obscene amount of cabinets, and an island that would make Martha Stewart jealous.
The scents assaulted me all at once.
Turkey, stuffing, potatoes, broccoli, rolls.
Despite swearing I was too nauseated to eat, my stomach growled as I followed Eli as he went toward the incredibly loud sound of what had to be at least two dozen people down a hall where the walls were lined with collages I wanted to see, but was too worried to stop, following behind as he broke into the doorway, moving to the side to allow me to step in too.
"Oh, my God," Dusty managed to exhale even as her breath sucked in.
"No fucking way," one of the men said. Judging by the tallness, black hair, ice blue eyes, and perfect bone structure, one of his brothers.
All eyes turned, even kids who clearly didn't know what was going on.
But then one child stepped forward.
Well.
She wasn't a child at all, was she?
She was maybe eleven or twelve, tall, thin, black-haired, green-eyed, and almost unfairly pretty even so young.
Her lips parted as she looked at Eli.
And Eli, well, he looked gutted.
Eviscerated.
His insides were all sliding out.
Oh, God.
She must have been five or six when he went away.
From the looks of things, she was likely the only one who might remember him.
"Uncle Eli?" she asked, eyes just... devastated.
After her words left her lips, there was utter silence.
And then there was a click of heels as a woman came in from a doorway that must have led to the living room.
"Why is everyone standing around all quie..." she trailed off as she looked around.
She was gorgeous. Tall and lean, but with curves any woman would envy. She had sharp features, long black hair, and keen hazel eyes.
Eyes that landed on Eli.
And stayed.
It was a good couple of seconds of nothing before, surprisingly, it was Eli who broke the silence.
"Mom," he said, voice thick.
She almost staggered back a step before her heels clicked again as she charged across the room, stopping a foot or so in front of her long-lost son.
And then she cocked an arm back.
And slapped him across the face.
The crack was enough to make me start, my entire body stiffening, completely not understanding what was happening.
But not a second after the smack landed, the woman threw herself at her son, her entire body shaking as she sobbed silently.
His arms jerked, unsure for a second, before they raised, closing around the mother he hadn't seen in six years, and holding on tight.
I had to look away, quickly blinking the threat of tears out of my eyes. My gaze drifted over to Fee who was nestled against the chest of a man who looked just like Eli, but with a lot more tattoos. Her eyes were streaming, but she looked right at me and mouthed silently Thank you.
"Son," a deep male voice called, drawing my attention back to where Helen had pulled away, and was frantically swiping the tears off her face.
Eli's dad, Charlie, was a glimpse at what Eli - and all his brothers - would look like as they aged. Meaning, they would do so incredibly well. He was tall, square-shouldered, fit, with their same perfect, classically handsome bone structure, light eyes, and black hair. Except his had some streaks of gray and he had some lines by his mouth and eyes that somehow made him not look old, but rather, distinguished.
He clamped Eli on the shoulder, then used his shoulder to pull him in for a hug. Sure, it was a manly hug, but it was a hug nonetheless.
Helen's gaze moved from the men, looking right at me, giving me a nod. "This was you," she declared.
"No," I objected immediately. "No. Actually, Fee, Lea, Dusty, and Scotti came to me and--"
"No," she objected, shaking her head, giving me a small smile. "That wasn't what I meant. Though I do think you had a part in him being here as well. But this was you. You brought him back from the dead."
The words landed with impact, making me take a step back.
Where I
plowed into Peyton.
When I swirled, I found her standing there, picking stuffing off a spoon.
"What?" she asked, big-eyeing me. "It was just sitting there, looking all warm and soft and delicious."
There were a few chuckles across the room.
Eli pulled away from his father, looking at me. "This is Autumn, for those of you who didn't go behind my back to meet her," he said, sending a pointed, but not unkind, look at Fiona.
"What? Psh, you can't claim to be how I know her. She introduced me to BOB years and years ago," she declared, making me smile.
"Who is Bob?" one of the kids asked, making everyone laugh.
"And this," he said, motioning toward Peyton who wasn't the least bit uncomfortable when all eyes fell on her, "stuffing thief here is Peyton, Autumn's sister."
"Where's the ugly cute dog?" a little girl asked, coming forward.
There was no mistaking it. She looked just like her older sister. She had the same black hair, green eyes, face, and frame, though she was maybe around nine.
And whatever lightness Peyton's appearance had brought about in Eli faded as his eyes fell on the girl who would have just been about three when he went away. Just a baby still, really.
He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple poking out with the effort. "He's probably trying to find some scraps in the kitchen, Izzy," he said, giving her a smile that was clearly strained.
The girl's brows knitted a little at the familiarity, but turned to grab the hand of a girl who was maybe five or six, but blonde-haired and blue-eyed, and started dragging her toward the living room doorway. "Come on, Mayla, let's find the dog."
The silence fell again, somehow even more oppressive than before.
"Uncle Eli?" the girl who had called to him before repeated, stepping another foot forward in her black leggings and heavy white cabled sweater.
Eli took a breath that was so deep it made his chest shake before he slowly let it out.
"You're really getting good at drawing, Becca," he said, giving her a small smile.
And she launched herself at him.
He actually went back a foot, clearly surprised. I guess maybe he had expected anger, or sadness, or maybe even complete disregard from her.
Eli (Mallick Brothers Book 4) Page 17