Page 149 of The Spider & the Storm

My lips stretched in a smile as I kissed her back. “Happy Thanksgiving, my love.”

She hummed, her face painted with happiness and contentment, and opened her eyes a crack. “I like that—my love. It's nice.”

“Well, get used to it.” I kissed her again. “I'm going to—”

Below us, the front door opened, and a jubilant squeal was carried up the stairs and to my ears. Stormy hurried from my embrace to check the time on her phone.

“Oh my God, it's already eleven,” she said. “We have to get up.”

“Eleven?” I was shocked. When was the last time I'd slept that late? When the hell was the last time I'd allowed myself to?

“My sister and her family are here,” she went on needlessly. I had already assumed by the excitement comingfrom downstairs. “I should've set the alarm. There's no time to shower. We have to get dressed and—”

“Hey.” I rounded the bed to grip her shoulders in my hands. “Relax. It's okay.”

“You don't get it. My sister … I love her, but she seriously has her shit together.”

I furrowed my brow. “So, you feel like you need to impress her?”

“No, not …” She averted her gaze from mine and shook her head. “Not really. It-it's just … she's been through a lot of shit, right? Like,a lotof shit, her whole freakin' family—you don't even know the half of it. I mean, so have I, but they don't know about any of that—or not most of it anyway. And even with everything she's been through, she still manages to keep her crap together. She gets up, she gets her kids fed, she goes to work, she makes good money, and her husband … the guy is, like, a fucking saint despite … everything … and—”

“And you want to show her … what? That you're capable of getting your shit together too?” I guessed, trying to put the pieces together as they were laid before me in a jumbled mess.

Stormy sighed and lifted her shoulders in a weak shrug. “I guess. Kind of. I think I just want her to feel for me the way I feel about her, you know? Like …” She gnawed at her bottom lip, the silver hoops clicking against her teeth before saying, “Proud.”

There was such an endearing innocence reflected in her eyes, one I could empathize with. This woman before me had walked through her own version of hell and made her way out of it, only to try and pick up whatever was left of her life and make something out of it. She’d done well for herself, and now, sheonly wanted her family—all of them—to see that, hey, despite it all, she’d officially made it.

Hell, with all these recent thoughts of seeing Luke, wasn’t I desperate for the same approval and confirmation that I’d turned out okay?

Stormy laughed beside herself and closed her eyes, hiding the tears that had begun to well. “I know that sounds so fucking stupid. Like, why do I even care? I’m thirty-five fucking years old. What does it matter what my little sister thinks of me or you or whatever?”

She went to move away from my touch, but I stopped her, gripping her shoulders just a little tighter.

“It’s not stupid,” I assured her. “I can’t even begin to tell you how badly I want Luke to meet you. And not even because I think he’d like you—which I do—but because I want him to really see that, by some fucking miracle, I actually managed to get this lucky.”

Stormy stared into my eyes and nodded. “You want him to see that it was all worth it.”

I didn’t know entirely what she’d meant by that. The years he’d taken care of me? All the times he’d driven me to therapy? Ritchie’s murder? All of it? I didn’t know, yet I seemed to understand.

“Exactly.”

“I would love to meet him one day.” She smiled, and I smiled back.

“Okay. But first, I want to meet your sister.” I caught a heady whiff of roasting turkey, and I groaned. “And I want to eatthat dinner because, fuck, it’s been a long, long time since I’ve had turkey.”

***

Stormy led the way down the stairs while I followed a few steps behind, like a shy, nervous little kid. The living room was filled with the ruckus made by a very young boy and the enthusiastic yammering of an older boy, both holding on to the attention of Stormy’s parents. A younger woman with light-brown hair pulled into some sort of complicated-looking braid, stood near the couch, shaking her head and laughing at the boys. From the emerald hue of her eyes, I knew she had to be Stormy’s sister, Rain.

“Hey! Did we wake you up?” Rain asked, hurrying across the living room to pull Stormy into a hug.

“Nah, we were already awake,” Stormy replied, squeezing her sister tight.

Rain’s eyes lifted to mine before I could divert my gaze. Old habits died too hard, and my social ineptitude had grabbed hold of me in the presence of her sister’s teasing smirk.

The two separated as Rain said to me, “Hi, I'm not sure we’ve met.”

“Oh!” Stormy looked over her shoulder, momentarily flustered, and extended her hand to me. I took it and allowed her to pull me forward to stand by her side. “Ray, this is Charlie. Charlie, my sister, Ray—or Rain—”

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