Don't You Dare

Chapter 8: Shared Spaces

As they reached their cars, Gabe turned to Andrea, his expression softening. "You sure you're up for a night at the diner with a bunch of sweaty soccer players?"

Andrea laughed, feeling a sense of lightness she hadn't felt in a long time. "As long as I'm with you, I'm up for anything."

Gabe's smile widened, and he leaned down, brushing his lips softly against hers. "I'm glad you're here."

"I wouldn't want to be anywhere else," Andrea whispered, her fingers curling around the front of his jersey.

Gabe took her hand, his thumb brushing lightly over her knuckles. "Are you happy?" he asked softly, his voice filled with an unexpected vulnerability.

Andrea met his gaze, her heart swelling with emotion. "Yeah," she said quietly, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. "I am."

He smiled, his eyes never leaving hers. "Good."

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Thanksgiving Day

The clinking of glasses and the hum of conversation filled the dining room as Andrea's family settled into the comfortable rhythm of Thanksgiving dinner. The table was laden with food, the golden turkey at the center surrounded by bowls of mashed potatoes, green beans, and cranberry sauce. Her mom's famous pumpkin pie sat on the sideboard, waiting for its turn.

Andrea glanced around the table, feeling a rare sense of contentment. Her dad was in good spirits, laughing at something Uncle Dan had said, while her mom and Aunt Judy chatted animatedly about a recipe. It felt almost normal, like the holidays she remembered from her childhood before things had gotten so strained at home.

"Dinner smells amazing, honey," Aunt Judy said, her voice warm and genuine as she set a basket of homemade rolls on the table. "You and your mom have outdone yourselves."

"We tried," Andrea replied, smiling. "I'm just glad we pulled it off."

Uncle Dan placed a large bottle of sparkling cider in the middle of the table, giving Andrea a wink. "Brought this for the toast. Non-alcoholic, of course."

Andrea nodded gratefully, understanding the unspoken gesture. Her dad's struggles with drinking were something the family didn't talk about openly, but they all knew to avoid bringing alcohol to these gatherings. It was a small thing, but it meant a lot that her aunt and uncle were thoughtful enough to consider it.

As everyone settled around the table, the conversation flowed easily. Her dad, who was usually tense or absent, seemed almost relaxed, engaging with the family and even helping to pass around the dishes. For once, there was no edge to his voice, no bitterness lurking beneath his words.

After everyone had filled their plates and the initial flurry of eating had settled down, her dad cleared his throat, drawing everyone's attention. He glanced around the table, a rare softness in his eyes. "I just wanted to take a moment to say how grateful I am," he began, his voice steady but filled with emotion. "Life hasn't always been easy, and I know I haven't always made it easy for the people around me."

He paused, looking down at his glass for a moment before raising his eyes to meet Andrea's. "But through everything, the one thing I've always known is how lucky I am to have you, Andrea. You're the best thing I've done in my life, and I'm so proud of you."

Andrea felt her throat tighten with unexpected emotion, her eyes stinging. As her father spoke, she was caught in a confusing whirlwind of feelings. His words were sincere, and they touched a part of her that still longed for his approval, for the father she remembered from her childhood. But there was also a part of her that remained wary, that remembered the harsh words, the neglect, and the pain he had caused them all. She didn't quite know how to feel about him, torn between wanting to hold on to this rare moment of connection and the fear that it wouldn't last.