Chapter 25
JACE
There’s a gif that my sister sends any time she’s excited of a little girl in a yellow raincoat, hands and face covered in semi-melted cotton candy, shaking her fists, eyes wide and teeth bared in excitement like she simply cannot contain herself.
Right now, that’s me on the inside.
“I ding the bell!” Otis declares, stopping at the foot of my parents’ front porch stairs and spinning around to face us.
I laugh, loving his energy. Even if he did wake us up at the crack of dawn.
For a split second I was worried about him finding me in his mother’s bed, and if we’d have to explain ourselves somehow.
It didn’t faze him one bit—he ran in, jumped on the bed, and kissed us both, before snuggling down in between us.
As if it were an everyday occurrence and totally normal that I was taking up the usually empty half of the bed.
“You can go ahead and walk right in,” I tell him, encouraging him up the stairs. “Just like we did yesterday.”
He starts up toward the door, not bothering to turn around as he replies. “Mama says that rude.”
Ah, right…manners.
“Mama’s right; it usually is rude. But not at this house. This is family, so it’s okay.”
Stopping on the very top step, he looks at Presley, waiting on verification.
“If Jace says it’s okay to do that here, it is.”
She doesn’t touch my family comment, making me twinge slightly. I want her to feel comfortable here. With my family.
Because they’re my family. Me, her, and Otis—we’re a unit. The source of the sheer giddiness flowing through me right now.
I’m bringing my family to Sunday dinner.
Words I never thought I’d say…
Otis nods, skipping ahead to open the door.
The big, heavy, wooden door. The handle turns easily enough, but the weight of it is too much.
At least on his own. Coming up behind him, I give it a gentle push, not wanting him to know that I rescued his efforts.
Something that seems to pay off, because he’s off like a flash as soon as it opens.
“There he is!”
Auggie’s pronouncement is loud, proud, and bounces off the walls in a way that makes it sound like he’s talking through a megaphone. He’s already crouching down, arms wide open, to prepare himself for a hug.
“Didn’t realize you’d be so excited to see me,” I quip, unable to help myself.
Ushering Presley inside, I close the door and then slip my arm around her waist, pulling her into me. Her muscles are tense, and I can tell she’s nervous. If only there was a way to reassure her that she has no need to be.
“Aww-wee!” Otis shouts right back, running into my father’s open arms.
Auggie scoops him up, holding on tight as he spins around, pretend biting at his cheeks.
I smile, remembering these hugs from when I was a little kid, and how much I loved them.
They’re the kind of hug that makes you feel not only loved, but safe and secure.
Nothing can get to you when he’s hugging you.
“We might need to give me a nickname, at least until you can get your G’s right…” Auggie laughs.
I know the exact one he’s angling for too. Although, it’s not so much a nickname as an upgrade in status.
He and Miss Belle have made no secret about how they are dying for grandbabies now that some of my siblings have settled down. Not that any of them seem to be in any kind of hurry to give them what they are asking for.
“Presley!” Margeaux says, poking her head around the corner. “I’m so excited you’re here! I’m about to start the maque choux I was telling you about if you wanna come join me.”
Presley instantly relaxes, her body easing against mine as she lets out a soft, almost inaudible sigh.
“Absolutely.” She takes off, leaving me standing by myself, her focus now on the food. Well, at least it’s not about how nervous she is.
“Are you putting the sausage in it this time?” I ask, trying to weave myself into the conversation. The girls don’t hear me though, or they ignore me, heading into the kitchen without looking back.
“Wanna help me on the grill?” Auggie asks.
“I can if—”
“Yeah!” Otis declares.
“Then let’s go, young sir.” Without another word, my father turns, still holding on to my kid—errr, I mean, Otis—really leaving me by my lonesome.
Okay then…
“Well, you got ditched real fast,” Hux says as I walk into the connected living room.
I stand between the couch and the long counter that separates the living room from the kitchen, taking inventory of all my siblings and in-laws, trying to decide where to park myself.
Gus, Anton, and Hux are parked on the couch, heads bent over something on the coffee table.
Milo and Ewan are out on the deck, fiddling with the grill, while Auggie shows Otis something I can’t fully see.
Sawyer is sitting at the counter, typing away furiously at her laptop, a serious look on her face, while Brenna is two chairs down, eyes glued to the chaos in the kitchen.
Chaos that is led by Dolly, but Margeaux, Maisey, and Miss Belle are not far behind her. Oh, and now Presley.
All that’s missing is Willa and Nash.
“No complaints from me,” I reply, leaning over the couch to see what they are looking at.
There’s a massive piece of paper spread out on the table, with a bunch of symbols and figures I don’t fully understand. What I do know is that it’s a map of one of the peach groves. Meaning that whatever is going on must be serious.
“I think we can make it work,” Sawyer says, not looking up from her machine.
All four of us boys whip around to look at her, her comment seemingly out of nowhere. Doesn’t stop her though.
“If we move the southern quarter, they should be fine based on these numbers. And I don’t think that the small grove is completely peached out, so we could put them there, and then plant the new cultivar in the southern quarter.”
“If the small grove isn’t peached out, then why not plant them there?” Hux asks.
Sawyer whips around in her seat, her face turning even more serious. If that’s possible.
“Are you second-guessing my analysis?”
“Hux!” Dolly scolds from the kitchen.
I back up, not sure I want to be in the middle of all this.
“Not second-guessing…” he starts.
“Defend the theory,” Anton pushes. “Because I also think we should stick with the small grove if we can.”
Sawyer huffs, pushing off her chair and marching over.
“Well, first of all…”
Yeah, I want nothing to do with this. Dr. Sawyer Brown is scary smart, and she also has zero issue putting my brother in his place.
Never mind the ring on her finger or how much she loves him.
He challenges something she knows to be right?
Forget about it. Then again, he does it right back.
It’s a heck of a dynamic, but it works for them.
Still, no need to insert myself. Safety first. Time for a drink.
“Jace,” Miss Belle coos, sidling up to me as I round the counter into the kitchen.
“Mama…”
Looping her arm around mine, she leads me right back out of the kitchen. So much for the drink I was thinking of getting.
“Do me a favor, would ya?” She bats her eyelashes, a dead giveaway that she’s about to ask me something horrendous. “Would you mind going out to the shed, grabbing my shears, and then clipping some of the pansies to add to the centerpiece? I meant to do it earlier and ran out of time.”
Suuuuuure, she did…
I know my mama, and that centerpiece is something she takes seriously. Even for something as routine as a Sunday dinner. If she went to the trouble to make one, it’s exactly the way she wants it. If something was left out, that was done on purpose.
“On one condition. You tell me why me and not one of your other sons,” I challenge. It might be a step too far, but I’m willing to take the risk here.
She gasps, hand flying to her chest in mock offense. “Maybe because you’re my favorite?”
“Ha!” Talk about a bald-faced lie. All our lives, both our parents have insisted they don’t have a favorite of the seven of us.
In reality, we all know that the “favorite” was an ever-changing rotation of which one of us was causing them the least amount of heartburn in that moment.
“Don’t lie, Mama. You wanna ask Presley questions you think I’ll object to. ”
It’s a joke, mostly. While I don’t doubt she wants to have some girl time with Presley, I also know that she has a hundred and one other ways to do it than make me go outside and cut flowers. This is nothing more than my chance to get a rise out of my mother.
At least until she purses her lips and narrows her eyes at me. Oh, shit. That really is the reason.
“Jace Butler Hayes, go outside and do as you are told. Allow me some time with your girl.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “Fine, let me just go grab—”
“Your father’s got the baby. They are perfectly fine out there with your brothers. Let him enjoy showing him around. Go.”
Yes, ma’am…
I nod, doing as I’m told. She left no room for argument, and I know better than to try and make some.
I head outside, trying to get my assignment over as quickly as I can.
Only, the shears aren’t where they should be, so I lose a solid twenty minutes looking for them.
And then I can’t find anything to put the pansies in.
It’s like I was set up to have a five—ten at most—minute errand take forty-five.
But I get it done, hopefully having clipped enough flowers to accomplish whatever it is that Mama wants.
I walk back into the house, the smell of all the amazing things being cooked hitting me like a wall. It’s a perfect medley of aromas and spices, making my tummy growl. Only, that’s not what really bowls me over.
My eyes land on Presley, her head thrown back in laughter at something Brenna said. I can’t make it out, but whatever it is has Brenna all animated, with Presley, and all the others surrounding her, in hysterics.
She looks so perfect like this. Happy, relaxed, and at home. Like she belongs here, as part of this family. Which, she does.