Having left my grams, my dad, and Sage — the term of address I now called my dad’s steady girlfriend — back at Gram’s condo slaving over the holiday meal, Jack and I slipped out for a little alone time. We stood in the sand gaping at the vast Pacific. It was oddly comforting to feel insignificant in the face of such power. We were just two kids on vacation at the beach. Never mind that Jack, due to his Winter People ancestry, had never been to the ocean. Never mind that I had Stork and selkie lineage. Never mind that we both knew firsthand of a few of life’s marvels and mysteries.

“So what do you think?” I asked.

“It’s incredible.”

I grabbed his hand. “And are you ready for a swim?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

“Not scared?”

“No.” He shook his head. “In keeping with the occasion, I’m thankful.”

Thankful, indeed an appropriate theme for Thanksgiving Day. This year I felt the spirit of the holiday intensely. I was humbled by the wonder and precariousness of life and just plain old grateful to be alive. I knew that I hadn’t, in any way, single-handedly prevented Ragnarök. Everything and everyone in my circle of love — corny as that sounded — had played a role. The now-pregnant-with-twins Jaelle and her hopes for a child. My mom and Stanley’s new relationship, which led to Leira. The ancestry I inherited from Afi and Amma. Hulda’s invaluable wisdom and guidance. Jinky’s shaman skills. Marik’s zest for life. Penny’s friendship and transformation. Old Grim and even Dorit coming around. The influence Sage had on my hero dad’s young soul. And Jack, of course. No longer my superpower sidekick, no longer connected with me on a telekinetically charged level, but we had each other’s back. We had each other, period.

“Do you think you could get used to it — you know, live here?”

He rolled his shoulders forward. “I don’t know.”

It was noncommittal and the correct answer. I still dreamed of a career in fashion. New York and LA were the two U.S. epicenters of the industry, but I also knew that Jack’s spirit thrived when surrounded by nature. Anyway, those kinds of decisions seemed far off and trivial in the face of land, sky, and sea melding before us.

“Come on,” I yelled, yanking on his arm.

We ran full out and barreled straight into the frigid ocean. When the water was thigh-high, I jumped on Jack’s bare back and wrapped my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist. A breaker crashed over us with the force of a semi, sending us spiraling. With the wave’s retreat, I found myself on my hands and knees, with sand in my eyes and mouth, my hair plastered to my face, and gasping for air. I looked over to where Jack lay just a few feet away on his back. I crawled over to him, shaking his shoulder.

“Are you OK?” I asked.

One of his eyes opened slowly. The other soon joined it, and then a smile parted his lips. “Oh, yeah.”

I looked up to see another wave headed our way, a big one. When, moments later, we were still hanging on to each other, and laughing, even, I took it as an omen: stronger together with or without our powers. Stronger. Together.