After the wonderful early dinner with Quinton’s mom and Angela—his dad was asleep the entire time, something Quinton reassured me was growing more and more normal for him—he dropped me off at home so he could get a quick workout in before eating again at Brynn’s dad’s. If I ever questioned if I had the dedication to be a professional athlete before, I now know the answer is a resounding no. Hell no.

Instead of working out, I just changed into my stretchy pants because priorities.

He offered to bring a change of clothes with him to the facility and pick me up right after, but I wanted to spend some time alone with Mrs. Rafter. Spending this morning with his family, seeing the strained smiles as their loved one was in the other room, slowly fading away, reminded me how important it is for me to cherish the people I love while I can. Plus, we still agreed on him coming back to my place after, so I’ll still end the night with the only kind of workout I want to participate in.

“Yes.” I put my old Camry in park behind the long line of luxury cars lining the street. “And I’m not insisting he isn’t anymore. He definitely is.”

“Oh good,” she says. There’s comfort in her voice that warms me from the inside. “Next time maybe you’ll listen to an old lady instead of thinking you know better.”

“I’ll never doubt you again.”

“That’s all I ask.” She opens her door and points to the ceramic pie dish that she has brought to every Thanksgiving we’ve spent together. “Do me a favor and grab the pie for me.”

“Only if it’s your bourbon pecan pie.” It’s the best pie on the planet . . . or at least the Denver metro area. She even has a couple of ribbons to prove it.

“Like I would spend this day with you and not make my girl her favorite pie.” She clucks her tongue and wags a short, painted nail at me. “It’s like you don’t even know me.”

“Of course I know you.” I hurry around the car with the pie in my hands as we trek up the walkway to the front door. “And I know this will forever be the best pie in the world.”

The beautiful weather from earlier is long gone. The forecast is calling for snow tonight and the chill in the air that’s nipping at my ears believes it.

“Miss Elle!” a little voice yells just before the Lamar boys come piling out of the house.

“Another pie?” Jax says with wonder in his voice.

“This Thanksgiving is going to be so much better than when we went to Granny’s house.” Jett slams a hand over his mouth and looks around him, no doubt making sure his mom didn’t hear that.