Page 42 of Finding Home

“Oh, honey,” Connor said sheepishly as he placed his fork and knife back down beside his plate. “You know I can’t resist digging into your chicken. It’s better than your mother’s—rest her soul.”

Lori snorted a laugh, but the stress line between her eyes eased as her face broke into a smile. “It is not. Nothing beats Mom’s.”

A twist of nostalgia squeezed Hope’s heart. She’d had this growing up. A wild and noisy dinner table with her parents and brother. Often relatives and friends were also present. Good food, good laughs, games afterward. She had loved those evenings. Sitting in on one now made her realize how much she’d missed them; how empty her life had been without them.

For the last few months, and honestly even for the years after her cousin had planted the seed of doubt, she had convinced herself that everything she’d had growing up was a carefully curated facade. Now, as she took in this family banter around her, she realized how wrong she’d been.

Across the table, Ruby laughed at something Eva had said. Ruby hadn’t been adopted, but she had lost her birth mother, too. Her aunt Lori was probably the closest thing to a mother figure she’d ever known. This family was far from perfect, yet this scene wasn’t fake just because pieces were missing. This was as real a family as any Hope had seen. People who loved each other, stuck it out for each other, and were there for each other through the best and the worst life had to offer.

A surge of regret hit Hope in the chest, and she pressed her palm to the center where the ache throbbed painfully. For the second time since she’d been thrust into the Walshes’ world, she felt the sting of clarity. She’d let her own bitterness and hurt rob her of precious time with the only family she had.

Abruptly, Hope stood. The entire table went silent instantly. Forks paused midair. Seven sets of eyes swiveled to look at her. Her face flamed, but she couldn’t move, her fist still pressed to where her heart beat wildly.

Gabe’s chair scraped the floor as he pushed it back to stand beside her. “Hope?” he asked, concern etched in his tone and face.

God, they must think she was a lunatic, and she couldn’t blame them, but when she glanced around the table, all she saw were looks of genuine concern.

“I—I’m sorry,” she stammered. Her heartbeat was in her throat choking her words. She needed air. She needed to get out of here.

Memories of Christmas assailed her. Her father’s pale stricken face, her mother’s tears, her brother’s quiet fury. Her own tantrum. Her inability to see the other side, to accept her parents had never meant to hurt her. She’d reacted on the wave of her anger and chosen to leave. And it wasn’t until sitting here tonight with the Walsh family that she truly realized she’d made the wrong choice.

Gripping the back of her chair she said again, “I’m sorry,” but this time she wasn’t sure if it was to the table or to her own family back home who couldn’t hear her.

Lori cleared her throat. “Gabe, why don’t you take Hope out back and show her the new porch Craig put in? Kids, you help me clear the table so we can get dessert going.”

And just like that, the flurry of activity and voices resumed. Gabe’s fingers entwined with hers as he pulled her towards a set of French doors. Cold air washed over her flushed cheeks as he led her outside, and she closed her eyes, sighing in relief.

After a couple of deep breaths had cleared the ache in her chest, she felt stupid. She’d totally overreacted, embarrassing both herself and Gabe.

“I’m sorry,” she said, wrapping her arms around herself as she stood with her back to the door, staring into the darkness.

Gabe moved behind her until their bodies touched.

He rested his chin on the top of her head as he held her tightly. Like a glutton, she snuggled against him, desperate to soak up every last drop of his warmth.

“Nothing to be sorry about,” was all he said as he rubbed his hands up and down her arms, creating more heat.

She didn’t know how to explain her ridiculous overreaction. How could she tell him that she had just realized she’d run away from her family because she was angry and unforgiving? How could she explain that it had taken his six-year-old daughter and his wild and boisterous family to yank her out of her own selfishness?

She couldn’t. So instead, she said, “You have a great family, Gabe.”

She felt him shrug. “We’ve had our moments. We’ve been through a lot over the years. When my mom died, my dad and sister tried to fill the gap.” His arms tightened around her, as if he was drawing strength from her as well. “I didn’t make it easy for them. In fact, I was a pretty big dick. When I met Carrie, I leveled off for a bit. Things were normal-ish. Then…”

Hope clung to him in the silence that followed. A world of unspoken pain and loss floated around them like dust that looks ethereal when caught in the moonlight but in the end is still just dust.

“When Carrie died, I went dark. Lori dragged me out of my black hole kicking and screaming, all while running my life and Ruby’s like a drill sergeant. It took a couple years before I could pull my own weight. Now we are where we are. Who we are. Crazy, and loud as hell. But loyal and, for the most part, steady.”

His words settled between them. Hope ran everything he’d told her through her head, trying to piece together the trajectory of his life from the broken young boy he’d been when his mom died, to the angry, rebellious teenager who pushed against his father and sister’s best intentions at every turn, to his more recent past, the heartbroken father of an infant grieving the loss of his wife. He’d said his sister had to drag him back to his life, but Hope didn’t think that was completely true. In the end, he’d faced reality head on. He hadn’t run away in resentment like she had.

“Every family goes through their own shit cycle, Hope. No one is exempt, and no family is perfect. But they’re family and in the end, it’s all we got.”

Tears pricked her eyes. She suddenly missed her parents so much, yet the hurt of their lie still bubbled at the surface. When she thought back to the years she had believed that they were her biological parents, she felt stupid, embarrassed, and ashamed. Those were hard feelings to forget.

“Sometimes,” she whispered, “what you thought was all you had was never really yours to begin with.”

His arms tightened around her, drawing her closer. “Do you think that because you’re adopted?”

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