Holy shit... I think we might make it to 100k readers before I upload the last chapter 😱

That's crazy, guys. Thank you all so much ❤️

Lots of love, xoxo

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"Alright," Owen grins. "Everyone, glasses up."

We bring our cups into the air, patiently waiting for him to give his speech. The scent of burnt turkey fills up the entire room, but it's mixed with the smell of fresh plastic from our brand new dining table. While we were gone, the boys did a lot more than just clean the house. They went out, and bought an entire dining room table. It's one of those plastic sets you buy at Walmart. They're meant for outside of course, but it was the cheapest option, apparently.

I actually think it's nice. It matches the whole broke-college-student-vibe the rest of the apartment has.

"This year, we're thankful for each other," Owen says. "We've built a good, solid foundation here. With Lena and Sarah moving in, and Steph coming into the picture, we've built friendships I don't think we'll ever lose. We experienced new things, explored who we are, and grown as people. And I think that's pretty damn amazing."

We laugh at him, feeling his happiness radiate off him. I look around at the others, but they all look just as happy. Even Tyler. His arm is resting on the back of my chair, playing with the strands of my hair. He shoots m a cheeky wink, but then we turn our attention back to the group.

"I'd just like to add, that even though I think Thanksgiving is a horrible holiday and should've be celebrated," Lena says. "I'm really, really happy to be here with you guys. I couldn't ask for a better family."

"To family," Owen raises his glass a little higher.

"To family," we repeat, clinking our glasses together. Steph brought some fancy champagne to our dinner party, but we only had plastic cups. I don't think any of us care, though. The champagne is delicious, and my sister doesn't seem to mind me drinking.

"Now... does anyone know how to cut a turkey?" Owen asks.

"Cut a turkey?" Lena scoffs. "I'm pretty sure you mean carve."

"Carve?"

"Yes. You don't cut a turkey, you carve it."

"What the fuck?" he scowls. "That's some bullshit. Isn't it the same thing?"

"No, carve is the proper way."

"Fine... hands up if you think it's carve and not cut."

Everyone in the group raises their hands. We all share humorous glances, knowing we're right and Owen is wrong. It's definitely carve. Cut just sounds weird.

"Looks like you're outnumbered, bro," Lena teases.

"Whatever," he rolls his eyes. "Just cut the damn thing."

"Carve," we correct in unison, causing the whole group to burst out in laughter. Except for Owen. He slumps down in his seat.

"Are you done bullying me?" he complains. "You're all rude as fuck."

"Aw, I'm sorry," I say.

"Give me the knife," Stacey says. "I'll carve it."

"Thank you," Owen groans, handing her the tools. While she cuts it, I turn back to Tyler, but to my surprise, he's not smiling like the rest of us. He's staring down at his phone, only looking up at me once I place my hand on his knee.

"Hey," I whisper. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I, uh-," he cuts himself off. "Can I talk to you for a sec?"

"Right now?"

"Yeah, just... in private?"

I nod my head, already moving to get up. Tyler follows suit, but we're stopped by my sisters voice.

"Where are you two going?" she asks. "You're bored of us already?"

"No, we, uhm, just..." I trail off, unable to think of an excuse.

"Is everything okay?"

"We'll be right back," Tyler tells her, taking my hand. He drags me into his room, shutting the door behind us.

"What's up?" I ask. "Are you mad at me?"

"No, no," he scowls. "It's my sister."

"Your sister? Phoebe?"

"She's in Greenbay. They won't let her see mum."

My heart skips a beat, my anxiety instantly rising. But I force it down. Tyler is clearly in distress, and I need to be there for him. There are more important things in this world than my anxiety rigth now.

"What do you mean?" I ask.

"She forgot her ID. I need to bring it to her

"Right now?"

"Visiting hours close in three hours. If I don't leave now it'll be too late."

I hesiate for a moment, unsure of what to say. I can feel bile rising in my throat, and my thigh begisn to itch. Tyler hurries around his room, grabbing his wallet and a pack of cigerettes off his nightstand. He looks up at me, waiting for me to speak.

"Okay," I nod. "You need to be there for your family."

"But, I -," he swallows, his eyes flickering down to the floor. "I want you to come."

"To Greenbay?"

"yeah."

"I don't know..." I shake my head. I really don't think that's a good idea.

"you don't have to meet my mother if you don't want to, btu I just..." he trails off, struggling to get the words out.

"What is it?" I ask. "Please, just tell me."

"I don't want to be without you for so long," he blurts. "I'm going to have to stay the night, and if I'm going to quit drinking, I need you there."

"You're trying to quit drinking?"

"Yeha, but that wasn't the key part of that sentence."

I search his eyes. I can tell he's desperate, and I want to go with him. I do. I really do. But I don't know if I can. I don't want to have a panic attack.

"Please, Sarah. I need you," he begs.

"I want to..."

"You can stay in the car if you want. You don't even have to meet Phoebe."

"No, I want to meet her," I say. "I'm just worried I'll panic."

"You haven't had a panic attack in a while, have you?"

"I change dmy medication," I explain. "But it could still happen, and I'm worried."

"Well, even if it does, I'll be there for you. I did some research on panic attacks, so I know how to handle it better now."

"You did research?" I can't fight the smile from tugging at my lips. First, he's trying to quit alcohol, an dnow this.

"yeha, I have to be there for my girlfriend, right?" he smirks.

"Damn right," I tease. "You're such a good boyfriend."

"I'm trying to be."

"You're the best boyfriend I've ever had."

"Well, that's easy," he steps forward, placing his arms around my waist. "I'm the only boyfriend you've ever had."

"That's true," I laugh.

"And the only one you will ever have."

"Yeah?" I blush.

"I hope so."

I nuzzle my head into his chest, digging myself into him. He's so warm and comforting, I don't even mind the gross burning smell coming from his clothes. Yeah, that's right. He;s the one that burnt the turkey.

"If we're spending the night in Greenbay," I begin, standing on my tip-toes to whisper in his ears. "Maybe we can..."

"Maybe we can what?" he asks, but I can hear the humour in his voice. He holds me a little closer to him, knowing where the conversation is going.

"Maybe we can...you know?"

"I don't know," he teases.

"You know... have... sex."

"We're not going to have sex if you're too afraid to say the word."

"I'm not afraid!" I defend. "I'm just... shy."

"Are you sure? Because I don't want you to do something you don't want to do."

"I'm sure. I want to do it. Really badly."

"Really badly?"

"Really, really, badly."

"In that case," he smiles. "We can try."

"Perfect," I grin.

"You're perfect."

"You're perfect."

"No, you're perfect."

"No, you're perfect!"

"Nope, that's you," he shakes his head.

"It's you!"

"You're way more perfect than I could ever be."

"No way! You're lying!"

He chuckles. "Why don't we argue about this in the car, huh?"

"Alright, but you're perfect."

"No, Sarah."

"I win!"