Page 63 of Promised to the Cowboy

“Your folks.” She hesitates just enough to tell me she’ll happily leave it alone if I don’t want to answer. “You close?”

Nobody leans forward as if they’re waiting for gossip. They’re simply… listening.

I twist my turquoise ring around my finger. “My parents split when I was a baby.”

Shay nods.

“My mom raised me. Mostly.”

“And your dad?” Kitty asks softly.

“He’s a businessman. One of those men who thinks writing a check is the same thing as showing up. We haven’t spoken properly in years.”

I look down at my hands. “He’s dead to me.”

The words land quietly.

Shay reaches across and squeezes my hand, her smile so warm it makes my throat tighten. “Well, you’ve got people now. That’s how it works around here.”

Kitty nods enthusiastically. “You're stuck with us.”

A laugh escapes me before I can stop it.

The sound of running water drifts in from the kitchen, followed by the clink of crockery and the low rumble of men’s voices.

A minute later, Henry appears first, drying his hands on a tea towel. “There you all are.”

“As if we'd go far,” Shay says.

He smiles, bending to kiss the top of her head before settling beside her on the sofa. She instinctively leans into him.

The others follow.

Tom plucks Kitty from the armchair and settles her on his lap.

Angus takes the seat beside Luna, wrapping his arm around her. She leans her head on his shoulder.

Daniel settles beside Delaney, one arm draped along the back of the sofa behind her. Ethan and Jenna claim the loveseat together, her hand finding his before either of them has properly sat down.

Ben lowers himself into an armchair with the familiar ease of a man who’s occupied it a thousand times.

Jacob hesitates for the briefest moment.

Ben looks up. “Sit down, Jake.”

There’s no ceremony to it. No awkwardness. Just an empty space on the other sofa beside his chair and an invitation that sounds like it’s been waiting years to be accepted.

Jacob’s mouth twitches. “Don’t mind if I do.”

He takes the seat.

They don’t say anything else.

I've heard enough from Gabriel, and seen enough today, to understand they barely know how to talk to each other. Healing doesn't always arrive in grand gestures.

Gabriel is the last to come in. His eyes find mine immediately. He smiles—that quiet, private smile that's become one of my favorite things in the world—and crosses the room to me.

He sits beside me, close enough that our thighs touch. His hand finds mine instinctively, our fingers lacing together as naturally as breathing.