Chapter 27 Presley
PRESLEY
“Does the man not know what an emoji is?”
“He’s really more of an lol guy, but every now and again I get a smiley face,” Brenna quips, her smile peeking over the paper coffee cup she’s holding on to with both hands in front of her face.
The sharp wind cuts through the tent, both Brenna and me bristling from the shock of cold. Other than the occasional whip of wind, it’s shaping up to be a beautiful morning. Exactly the kind of morning you want for a run. Errr…wobble.
The last time I attended the early Thanksgiving morning traditional event here in Hickory Hills was when I came home for the holiday my sophomore year in college.
Back then, it was the Turkey Trot, the name change coming in more recent years.
As one of the few actual runners at the event, I do have to agree with the change—there are a lot more people walking this 5K than running it.
“I would have taken a lol on that comment,” I say, taking a sip of my own coffee. “Anything so that it would have seemed like a joke rather than an insult.”
“Are people really taking it that way?” Dolly asks, lifting up a large, insulated beverage dispenser and depositing it on the table.
I move to go help her—the whole reason I’m at this event early—but don’t make it in time. The contraption is on the table in no time, making it clear that Dolly has a system, and the only help she really wants is to be kept company.
That I can do.
“Yeah…” I grab a sleeve of paper cups, holding it up to ask if she needs them. Dolly nods, pointing to a spot on the other side of the container. “Not everyone. But enough. And plenty of those folks are sharing it with their own commentary.”
Dolly and Brenna both grimace. Yeah, couldn’t have said it better myself.
“But…isn’t there that whole thing about no press is bad press?” Brenna asks, perking up in trying to find a silver lining.
Maybe. It certainly means that Southern Brothers is being talked about.
That said, I’m not sure that this is what we want people talking about.
A single, offhand comment that makes Brandt look like a royal jackass, rather than the down-to-earth, secretly nerdy guy that he is.
The last thing I want is to have to combat a dude bro image for their brand.
“Oscar Wilde once said that the only thing worse than being talked about is not being talked about,” Margeaux says, sliding under the tent. “But I don’t buy it. In this day and age, I’ve seen too many companies suffer from bad exposure.”
“Not helping…” Dolly whispers harshly.
Margeaux shrugs, reaching for a cup and turning the spigot to the dispenser that Dolly just filled. The dark brown cocoa fills the cup, the faint smell of chocolate filling the air and tickling my nostrils, distracting me for a second. But only a second.
“Margeaux’s right though.” I sigh, taking another long sip. “Which is why I need to get out in front of this. Figure out how to mitigate it so it doesn’t turn into a thing.”
“We’ve got this.” Margeaux wraps an arm around me, her red hair falling over her shoulder. “Because here’s the thing—the Hayes boys might be impressive, but…the Hayes women?” She waggles her eyebrows, a devious smile taking over. “We’re formidable. And we take care of our own.”
We take care of our own…
A lump forms in my throat, all my feels welling up in that one spot. Her words don’t fully ease the anxiety I’m feeling over this situation, but it means the world to me nonetheless. Because it means I’m not alone. That I belong. That I am a member of this incredible tribe.
It’s more than I could have ever dreamed of.
“Mama!”
I spin around, reacting to the familiar little voice calling my name like a homing beacon. The crowd has picked up in the last couple of minutes—everyone starting to arrive and check in for the event—but I find my boys almost instantly.
Well, I find Jace. And a little turkey.
“Gobba gobba!” Otis says, flapping his arms—err, wings—as he waddles toward me.
I spit out a laugh, his cuteness overloading my senses. I kneel down, looking him in the eyes, my heart happier than it’s ever been.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Turkey, but have you seen my little boy? He’s about your height, has light brown hair…”
“Is me!”
“Oh my word! It is!” I gasp, covering my mouth to look shocked. Otis giggles as I pull him in for a hug, pushing to my feet.
“Glam-ma made me it!” he declares, holding on to me.
Glam-ma…be still my heart…
If today gets any more perfect, it might kill me.
“Mornin’, Mama,” Jace greets, wrapping an arm around me and sneaking a kiss. His lips taste of coffee and toothpaste, a weird, but strangely wonderful combination, making my insides flutter. “Y’all get all set up?”
“I think so?” I shrug my free shoulder. “Aunt Dolly isn’t really one for accepting help.”
“I heard that!” Dolly hollers.
“She’s not wrong,” Margeaux mutters behind us.
Jace bites back a laugh, nodding along with the sisters-in-law. He’s told me more than once that he knows better than to insert himself in their business, and I can see why. Margeaux was right when she said they are a formidable group of women. Makes me love and respect him even more.
“Shall we go find Nana and Paps?” I ask Otis. “Show off how cute you look?”
“Yeah!”
“Wave bye to your aunts,” Jace instructs.
Looking over my shoulder, Otis waves. “Bye-bye!”
A chorus of byes disappears into the crowd as we walk away, the chatter of those surrounding us picking up in intensity.
Weaving our way toward the starting line and the officials’ tent—which is where my father is assigned to work—Jace slips his hand in mine.
As if it’s the most natural thing in the world.
We feel like a real family. A mommy, daddy, and little boy out at a town event. Like everyone else in town. No weird history or awkward dynamics. Nothing but a picture-perfect moment.
Seriously, I don’t see how this could get any better.
“Let me take Little Man,” Jace offers, reaching for Otis before I can even respond. This move is just as natural and instinctual as him taking my hand—which he does again as soon as Otis is settled on his hip. One more thing to add to the list.
“Still thinking about the ForU comment?”
I huff, hating that the answer is yes. “I can’t stop. It’s taken up residence in my brain, and until I figure out a way to make things okay again, I don’t think I’ll stop.”
“Had I known that was all it would take to get you focused on something other than my department, I would have told Brandt to do this weeks ago.”
“Jace!” I playfully knock him with my shoulder, not wanting to hit him too hard. He is holding our kid after all.
Our kid…
“Then again…if it hadn’t been for stranger danger…” He winks. My heart skips, leaving me feeling like a teenager all over again.
“Which reminds me, I need to get some video for our next stranger danger segment while we’re here today.”
“Stranger danger! Stranger danger!” Otis declares.
“That’s right, Little Man, but I’m not a stranger…”
“He is.”
My heart stops at Otis’s words. Who is he talking about? We’re surrounded by strangers. More and more people show up by the second, the crowd almost twice the size as when they got here a few moments ago. So what is making him point out one particular stranger?
“Presley. There you are.”
I freeze. The familiar voice sends a chill down my spine, and not the good kind. This is the kind that makes everything in your body seize and your blood run cold. The kind that makes the little hairs on your arm stand at attention. Which is exactly what mine are doing.
It’s a voice that I haven’t heard in months. Close to a year. One that I never thought I’d hear again. That I am okay with never hearing again.
My ex.
“C-C-Cody,” I choke out, my shock gripping the words as they leave me. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
Better yet, how the fuck did he find me?
My mind goes into overdrive, too many thoughts all at once to make sense of any of them. Cody’s a cop, so I’m sure it wasn’t too hard for him to figure out my change of address. It would be on file with the court, after all.
“I wanted to see you.” He smiles, but it’s not real. It’s forced. Fake. Like he thinks that’s what I want from him. “Both of you.”
“And you couldn’t have called? Sent a text?”
He looks between me and Otis, his eyes scanning the new costume, before landing on Jace. The fake smile falters for a split second, the blue eyes I once loved to stare into looking cold, calculating, and unfriendly as he appraises the man holding his son.
No, not his son. I don’t know what the right word is, but that’s not it. Cody may have provided the genetic material required, but he’s not a father. He’s not dad. That’s Jace.
“I thought I’d surprise you. That it’d be more fun. You love surprises.”
“I hate them.”
He knows that. Not that he ever listened or respected it. Right down to the end, when he surprised me by fucking someone else.
Anger rises in me, but it’s quickly eclipsed by worry. I need to know his motives. Why he’s really here.
I squeeze Jace’s hand, looking for comfort. He returns the gesture, understanding what I need. He can read this situation loud and clear. After all, he’s the safety expert.
Safety first.
“Little Man, look! Another turkey!”
Letting go of my hand, Jace turns away from us, leaving me alone with Cody. Out of the corner of my eye, I watch my boys, now walking toward the other little turkey, as I try to find the words to ask what I really want to know.
“Presley,” Cody breaks the silence, stepping forward and reaching for me.
Instinctively, I step back. I’m not letting him touch me.
“What do you want, Cody? Why are you in Hickory Hills?”
In all the years we were together, he always refused to come here. Always had an excuse or comment about rural Georgia. He wasn’t willing to lower himself to come here. He must want something really bad if he’s here.
“I’ve had some time to think. And I was wrong to…to say that I didn’t want a role in Oscar’s life.”