Lucas opened the big brown bag with the chocolate, graham crackers, and marshmallows, and everyone pounced on it all like they hadn’t just stuffed their faces with more food than she’d ever seen.
“So how long have you and Lucas been knocking boots?” one of Lucas’s aunts asked.
Molly jumped and her marshmallows fell off her stick and into the fire.
Lucas arched a brow at her and . . . slid two fresh marshmallows on her stick for her. “Aunt Jeanie,” he said. “Just because you turned seventy-five last month doesn’t mean you get to turn off your inner editor.”
“Actually,” she said, “it does. I don’t have a lot of years left, you know. And the only benefit of being this ancient is that I get to say whatever I want.” Then she looked expectantly at Molly.
“Don’t answer her,” Lucas said. “She’ll just send out a letter to everyone in the family. And I do mean a letter because she refuses to use that new iPhone in her purse for anything other than taking pictures of her eight cats.”
“Ten,” Aunt Jeanie said.
Lucas’s mom put her hand over Jeanie’s. “I love you,” she said to the older woman. “But the only person who gets to grill my son on his love life is me. I pushed for twelve long, brutal hours to bring his big, fat head into this world. I earned that right.”
Lucas blew out a breath and dropped said big, fat head, muttering something about why he’d ever thought this was a good idea.
“Remember when we’d come here when we were kids?” Laura asked, clearly trying to help out her brother. “Lucas would tell us scary campfire stories until Sami peed her pants.”
“Hey,” Sami said. “I was way too young for the Lizzy Borden stories!”
“And then he’d try to crawl into one of our sleeping bags in the middle of the night because he’d terrified himself,” Laura said to her mom. “Remember?”
“Oh good,” Lucas muttered. “Childhood stories.”
“How about the time he blew up the shed?” Sami asked. “He’d secretly stored some fireworks there. The fire department came, and the police too. Who peed their pants then, huh?” she asked Lucas.
Lucas ignored her, calmly pulling two perfectly toasted marshmallows from off the fire and fitting them between his two waiting graham crackers.
“How did you get a hold of fireworks?” Molly asked. “You save up your allowance?”
“I didn’t pay my kids any allowance,” Lucas’s mom said proudly.
Lucas met Molly’s gaze, his own ironic. “Our allowance was being allowed to live at home.”
“How about the time you blew up mom’s mailbox with that cherry bomb,” Laura said helpfully. “The police came that time too, remember?”
“Which turned out to be a felony,” his mom said helpfully. “Who knew?”
“I was twelve,” Lucas said, looking pained. “And I wasn’t all hoodlum. I did some good stuff too. How about when I pretended to be Santa Claus for Sami?” He pointed to his cousin. “I climbed onto your roof and made reindeer noises and everything. You bought it hook, line, and sinker.”
“Yep, right up until you fell off and past my window, breaking your arm. For years I thought I’d killed Santa. It was traumatizing.”
Molly gasped in horror, reminded of her own fall and the damage it’d done.
Lucas’s gaze met hers. “It was only one level, I didn’t fall far,” he said quickly, clearly knowing where her mind had gone. He looked at Sami again. “And now surely you can remember something from my past that doesn’t involve trauma, cops, and ERs,” Lucas said.
Everyone gave that some thought and came up empty.
“Thanks,” he said dryly. “Thanks for helping me impress Molly.”
Molly laughed. “Don’t worry. I already knew you were a trouble causer.” Truth was, she enjoyed the stories of his wild youth, and the way his family clearly loved and adored him. Looking around at the group, she felt her heart warm. Lucas had no idea how lucky he was with this big, open, warm family who hadn’t faced anything as devastating as what her own had—several times over now.
Lucas’s mom pulled out a large thermos and began pouring everyone eggnog into little cups, which they all lifted in toast to each other. “To Josh,” his mom said softly and lifted her cup.
“To Josh,” everyone repeated just as softly and they all lifted their cups and drank.
Molly looked at Lucas, her heart sinking.
“My brother died four years ago,” Lucas said quietly to her unspoken questions. “Today would’ve been his thirty-fifth birthday.”
Molly felt her heart catch with emotion. Okay, so this family had experienced loss, shattering loss, just like her. They got it, knew the life-changing devastation of losing someone so close to you. She reached for Lucas’s hand and squeezed.
He lifted his head and met her gaze, his own filled with more emotion than he’d allowed her to see before. Then, surprising her, he pressed their joined hands to his chest, leaned in and brushed a kiss along her temple. “Time for another round of s’mores,” he said.
So they opened another bag of marshmallows and hit round two of the eggnog. Because Great Aunt Jeanie was having trouble with her marshmallow technique, Lucas got up and went over to help her.
Laura scooted in closer to Molly. “Thanks for bringing him here tonight,” she said quietly.
“He brought me.”
Laura stared at her for a beat. “You really didn’t make him come?”
Molly let out a small laugh. “You seem to know your cousin pretty well. Have you ever known him to do something that someone made him do?”
“You’re right.” Laura smiled too and startled Molly by giving her a huge, tight bear hug. “Then thanks for being the catalyst that brought him back to us.” She pulled back to look into Molly’s eyes. “We lost him for a while, you know. First when Carrie died and then again after we lost Josh. He didn’t like to come around. I think at first he was worried our brimming emotions were contagious, but then it was easier for him to stay away.”
“Is Carrie the woman who died in a car accident?”
“Yes, but it wasn’t that simple. They were high school sweethearts, and planned on getting married at some point.” Laura tossed back her eggnog. “I’m going to blame my big mouth on this, if anyone asks.” She drew a deep breath. “When she died, Lucas was undercover with the DEA. Deep undercover. It took his handlers a while to get him the message and get him out, and by that time, she’d been buried for three weeks.”
“Oh my God,” Molly murmured, feeling horrified for all he’d been through. How selfish and self-centered had she been to not have seen that he’d been hurt even worse than she had?
“That’s why he’s so . . . bruised by life,” Laura said.
“I’m not some fragile little peach, Laura.”
At Lucas’s mild but clearly annoyed voice behind them, Laura jumped as they both turned to face him.
“Thin walls,” he said. “Remember, we learned that when we were little and Aunt Karen and Uncle Steve used to go to bed right at dark and proceed to make noises for hours that Mom tried to tell us meant they were practicing their wrestling moves?”
“I wasn’t gossiping,” Laura said.
“You sure?” Lucas asked.
Laura had the good grace to look slightly ashamed. “Okay, fine, you caught me. But I’m not going to apologize for loving you so much that I want to see you happy.”
“I am happy,” Lucas said. “I’m here with you guys.”
“Oh,” his sister breathed, her eyes going suspiciously shiny as she sniffed. “Oh, that’s so sweet.”
“No, no stop. I didn’t mean to make you cry,” Lucas said, sounding pained.
“It’s not you.” She put her hands to her flat belly and smiled across the campfire at Will, who’d passed off their kid to grandma and was adding logs to the flames. “We’re going to have another baby and babies make me cry.”
“Did my super-powered grandma hearing serve me right?” The grandma to be stood up and clapped her hands together. “I’m getting another grandbaby?”