Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 67492 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67492 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
“Did someone say football?” Uncle Merrick asks. His three kids, Henry, Hazel, and Harper, are standing next to him, bouncing on the balls of their feet, ready to get started.
“Who are the team captains this year?” Orion asks. “I can’t remember where we left off.”
“My dad,” Brynlee announces, talking about Deacon. He’s not really my uncle, but that’s what I call him. We all do. Brynlee’s mom, Ramsey, is my dad’s cousin, but she was more like a sister to all nine boys. Aunt and uncle is how we see them.
“And mine,” Leo answers. His dad is my uncle Brooks.
“Let’s do this!” Uncle Brooks calls out, and everyone rushes to grab their shoes and hoodies. It’s a cool fifty degrees out today, so it’s perfect weather to play with just a hoodie. Once we get started running around, we’ll all be burning up.
It’s the perfect day with family, lots of good food, an Uno victory, and I’m happy to report that I was on Uncle Deacon’s team and we crushed our competition. I don’t know what life would be like without this big, crazy family of mine, and I never want to find out.
“Are you coming over tomorrow to help us put up the tree?” Mom asks.
“Is Rudolph’s nose red?” I ask, and she smiles.
“Good. It wouldn’t be the same without you there.” Mom pulls me into a hug that I return with vigor.
“Can I get in on this?” Dad asks. He doesn’t wait for us to reply as he wraps his arms around both of us. “Love you,” he says, and I know he’s speaking to both of us.
“Love you,” Mom and I chorus.
“I’ll see you all later.”
“Wait!” Aunt Stella comes rushing in and hands me a bag.
“What’s this?”
“Pumpkin pie!” Aunt Crosby calls back.
“A whole pie?”
“Yes!” Aunt Alyssa replies from her spot in the kitchen next to the rest of my aunts.
“And this.” Aunt Courtney grabs another bag off the counter and brings it to me.
“What is this?” I ask her.
“I’m not sure. Jade packed it for you,” she says, referring to Uncle Orrin’s wife.
“I can’t eat all of this. I’m one person.” The bag has some weight to it.
“That just means you and Isla don’t have to cook for a couple of nights,” Aunt Palmer chimes in.
“Here, take this too,” Aunt Jordyn says, handing me another small bag.
“What’s in this one?”
“Rolls. We made way too many rolls.”
“Are you trying to fatten me up?” I tease.
“Nope, we just don’t want this to go to waste,” Aunt Scarlett calls out.
“There are a lot of you. Why are you sending me with so much?”
“Trust me,” Mom says. “We’re all going to be taking bags like this home. You know we cook for a massive army when we only have a small one.” Her smile lights up her face.
“Fine, but sheesh, ladies. Maybe we need to dial it back a little next year.”
“Never!” Uncle Maverick calls back, and everyone erupts in laughter.
“I’ll see you crazies later. Love you all!” I holler over my shoulder before taking my loaded bags of leftovers out to my car. When I get in my car, my phone alerts me to a message, so I check it before I leave.
Isla: Staying at my parents’ tonight. I’m in a turkey coma. I’m too lazy to drive.
I take a picture, even though it’s dark, of the bags of leftovers in the passenger seat and send it off to her.
Me: Well, there will be plenty more waiting for you when you get home.
Isla: Do they think we’re starving? They do know we both have good jobs, right?
Me: Yep. Apparently, everyone is getting bags of leftovers to take with them. They went even more overboard than usual.
Isla: I love your family, but how will we eat all of that? I don’t think I’ll need to eat again for at least a week.
Me: LOL
Isla: See you tomorrow.
Me: See you tomorrow. Happy Turkey Day.
Placing my phone in my cupholder, I point my car toward home. I don’t know why I do it, but I take the long way, which has me driving past Oliver’s place. I’ve thought a lot about him today. I wanted to send him a Happy Thanksgiving message but decided against it, which is why I don’t understand why I’m pulling into his driveway at seven o’clock at night. All the lights are on, but there are no cars in the driveway.
I could back out, and he’d never know I was here. At least, I hope that’s the case. Instead, I put my car in Park when an idea hits me. Grabbing the bag that has the full pumpkin pie, I turn off the engine, grab my phone and keys, and, with the pie in hand, make my way to his front door.
I’m standing outside staring at his front door, trying to talk myself out of knocking, when the door opens, taking away my choice. My ability to think clearly or even speak is also taken away when I see Oliver.