CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR; part one

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     Despite everything that's happened this year, this Thanksgiving might be my favorite.

     With Cas's family here, and mine, and Jack's, it nearly winds me how much warmth is in the room. It would be overwhelming, if not for Cas who's always nearby, jumping in, almost unnecessarily, fielding questions and steering conversations to keep things light. I wonder if I broke him, maybe, when I got shot. Now he's stuck in this caregiver role, protecting me. I don't hate it, but I wonder what happens when that tires. Where do we go from there?

     The meal runs smoothly. I was nervous that I hadn't made enough, but there's more than enough for everyone to have seconds and thirds and plates to bring home. I've shoving Cas out of his seat, trying to encourage him to go up for seconds. We're in the middle of the table, the halfway point between the older and younger adults. Maddox insisted on sitting beside me, though, which has kept conversation in line. It's not as easy speaking in innuendos with a ten-year-old around, the way it was with a five-year-old. Things just do not fly by kids at this age.

     Cas eyes his plate and then glances at me. "I think I'm gonna pass on seconds," he says after some thought.

     I hold my hand to my chest like I've been fatally wounded. "You can't pass on seconds when the request is coming from the chef. It's rude."

     "Yeah, well, tell the chef that two plates is too much."

     "The chef disagrees. The chef thinks two plates is a serving size."

     "So, then is the chef getting up for seconds, too?"

     "Oh, no, the chef eats half a serving. That's a rule."

     Cas rolls his eyes. "You're just making up rules now."

     I laugh, quietly. Realistically, everything I've said is a made up rule. "Go get seconds, please. You're hurting my ego."

     Now he really rolls his eyes, all exaggerated, but he stands, anyway. "Yeah, hurting your ego my ass."

     "Ooooh, Cas said a curse word," Maddox says as he passes by Cas to take his seat, his plate full of mostly mac and cheese.

     "Excuse me, Maddox, I don't see any vegetables on that plate?" Suki notes from across the table.

     "But mom it's my second plate," Maddox whines.

     "I guess we don't want dessert, huh," she says.

     Maddox gets up, chasing Cas to the buffet table. Amelia's on the other side of the table, between Suki and Jack. "So you gonna drop the turkey recipe?" she asks, mouth mostly full. "Cause this is the moistest — moist -est? Is that even a word — I don't know, but it's the best turkey I've ever had."

     "Liquid cocaine," I say. "Straight into the center."

     "You know I thought I was starting to feel a bit cracked out," Jack says. "That's your secret ingredient for everything, right? Explains the skyrocketed success."

     "What are you talking about?" Jasmine asks as she returns to the table. She has Atlas on her hip and is balancing a plate in her other hand.

     "Dres drugs his food," Jack responds breezily.

     "Oh, did he tell you about the liquid cocaine?" Cas asks as he comes up to the table.

     Jasmine, who's never really understood this kind of humor, glances between all of us confused. Jack goes, "Not literally, sweetheart."

     "It's just that dang good," Amelia goes. "You can liken the addictive quality to a drug."

     I look at the plate of food Cas has placed on the table and then up at him. "That's not a lot," I say.

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