Chapter 11
Walker
I ring the doorbell holding a potted prickly pear cactus. Well, technically two: one that will bloom orange flowers while the other blooms red. The nursery employee transferred them into an ornate black plastic pot. I figured that was best with the boys.
My heart is hammering in my chest so hard that I’m fairly certain the cactus can feel it.
I take a moment to scan the home, a cottage style home with a large wrap-around porch.
The neighborhood is older, with large oak trees and homes that are undergoing updates.
It reminds me of my mother’s house in Tulsa, and that settles me a bit.
That is until I see a woman peering at me through the side curtain, a slight frown on her brow.
Just great.
A few seconds later, she opens the door barely enough to step through. She closes it behind her—just in time, I’m guessing, since four little hands pat it repeatedly.
“May I help you?”
“I’m here to see Mallory. Is she available?”
The woman looks to be about forty. I’m guessing she’s their older sister or mother as she has the same face and build as the twins and the way her arms are crossed, I’m not feeling very welcome at the moment.
“It’s about time, Cameron Walker James.” Her blue eyes are stunning, but how they’re aimed at me? Not liking them so much.
I hold out my hand anyway, knowing I’m risking my guitar-playing. “Nice to meet you.”
“Emily Jenkins.” She shakes it firmly and releases it without a word, and I think that went about as well as I deserve.
She stands guard at her front door, and I can see so much of Mallory in her that I decide she has to be the twins’ mother. She doesn’t give a fuck who I am other than someone who hurt her kid.
But she said It’s about time, so I hold on to that tiny strand of hope as my hands sweat holding this cactus.
“I’ve asked around about you.”
“Is that right?” I don’t mean to drawl the words, but my southern is coming out.
“You’d better believe it.” She eyes me from head to toe, a lawn mower kicking to life somewhere nearby.. “You work with Nash Rivers?”
“I do. I’m signed to his label.” I hold her blue gaze, noting the small widow’s peak at her hairline, so like Mallory’s. “And I’ve worked with Bree and Izzy Winthrop.”
“It’s a good thing my parents adore all three of them and trust their judgment. Otherwise, you wouldn’t step one foot inside this house.”
Is that an invitation inside? Not quite sure, so I stay put. “May I speak with Mallory? I can do it on the porch if you’d prefer.”
“Come on in. Just be warned.”
I don’t have time to digest her words because as soon as she opens the door, two whirlwinds rush out. I grab one while Emily grabs the other.
“Boys. The rule is to sit on the bench and wait if Mommy or EmEm are at the door. We’re going to set you down, and I need to see that you can do that.”
Both of the boys smile widely, their blue eyes looking so much like their grandmother’s. We set them down, and they toddle over the bench and climb up to sit and wait.
“Thank you. Now wait there until Mommy greets our guest.” Emily steps aside to let me enter her home, a soft smile on her face. “She’ll be right over.”
The boys’ cherubic faces look so innocent, but I know better. Between Mallory and her mother, they’ve got to have a little fire in them somewhere.
“Hi, Mason. Hi, Kasen. I’m Cam.”
One of the twins giggles like I’ve just said the funniest thing while the other watches me with suspicion. There’s my Dark one for Mason and one for Kasen. Each has a ton of buds already, so I thought they can learn about flowers as they bloom.”
My front-row rebel points to an end table by the outdoor sofa. “The boys are never out here without supervision. That’s the perfect spot.”
A big sigh of relief escapes me. Who knew I’d be so nervous about a cactus?
“Why are you here, Cam?”
I love that she’s using my given name. That’s a good sign, right?
“I owe you an apology.” My eyes search hers, seeds of hope dotting through the gray that’s been in my heart for this last week without seeing Mallory. “And I miss the fuck out of you.”
Her toes tap the concrete, even her bare feet beautiful. But she doesn’t move otherwise.
“This last year has been rough. It’s been nonstop work and travel.
My mom’s friend owns Wild Vista Ranch and offered for me to detox from tour life there.
I wanted to earn my keep, so I decided to hide in plain sight.
That plan was set months ago.” Her blue eyes hold mine, her jaw tight.
“I didn’t anticipate meeting you and wasn’t sure how to handle it. I should have told you right away.”
“Yes, you should have.”
“But can you honestly say you would have given me the time of day?” My knees bounce nervously. Old habit.
“We’ll never know.”
Damn. “Am I too late, Mallory? Whatever this is between us, it’s the most real thing I’ve ever felt in my life.” I shift in my seat and grab her hand with both of mine. “Please tell me I’m not too late.”
“We barely even know each other, Cam.” She pulls her hand away and crosses her arms over her chest. “You don’t even live in this state.”
I tilt my body forward. “I saw you at Boots on the Lake.”
“What?” Her eyebrows shoot up.
“When I was singing. You were wearing jean shorts and black tank. Your hair was in a black bandana. Kate was jumping and dancing with the crowd while you just stood there, sort of swaying every once in a while.”
Her face turns pink. “I’m not a big country music fan.”
“I got that.” I scratch the back of my neck, the humor of the situation not lost on me.
“Point is, I was into you. Even then. I had to sing from the other side of the stage because I couldn’t quit staring.
Then, when I saw you at Wild Vista, it was like the universe gave me another chance to get to know you. ”
She tucks a strand of dark hair behind her ear, something in her expression shifting. It’s not a smile exactly, but the wall she’s built comes down just a little.
“Can we go for a walk? We can bring the boys.”
Her eyebrow pops up. “Sure you can handle them?”
“Definitely not. But you’ll be there, so I’m not worried.”
There’s a park three blocks away, so we head there, the twins in their double stroller.
They narrate everything they pass in a language that’s about sixty percent actual words.
Mallory translates without missing a beat.
I file everything away. Kasen calls dogs “woof woofs,” and Mason loves to point at all the “frees,” or trees.
When we approach a large oak tree that hangs over the sidewalk, I stop. “Wanna see the tree, Mason?”
“Free!”
I look at Mallory and point to his seat belt. “May I?”
She smirks. “I know what you’re doing. And yes.”
Mason lets me take him out of his seat, which is a win in itself, and we walk over to the tree. “This is the bark of the tree. See how you can touch it?”
I slide my hand over the rough surface, and Mason does the same. “Woof woof.”
“Sort of, bud. It’s called bark, but not the sound a dog makes.”
He smiles as I clip him back into the stroller, where he and his brother giggle and say “woof woof” the last block to the park.
It’s a blast. I follow the twins’ lead entirely, which means I spend twenty minutes on my knees in the dirt around the base of the slide while Mason packs mulch into a pile and Kasen demolishes it.
It’s the most purposeless and peaceful thing I’ve done in longer than I can remember.
Mallory is quiet beside me, her knees pulled up, watching her boys the way she does everything, steady and fully present.
I sneak a look at her, and she’s already looking at me.
After an hour, we head back to the house, the boys drinking from sippy cups and acting sleepy. We definitely wore them out. We slid, chased, climbed, and sat in more dirt. It’s amazing how great Mallory is with her boys. She says it’s because she’s a twin, and she's not scared to be the bad guy.
I do my best not to picture her being bad. I’m not even a little successful. Mason fixes that, toddling over and handing me his sippy cup with the authority of someone who expects it refilled immediately.
After both boys get a refill, Mallory tucks the boys in for their naps, leaving me in the living room with her mother and sister.
“I, uh, I have something for you, Kate.”
Not giving her a chance to respond, I go out to the front porch and retrieve the small plant I stashed off to the side. When I return to the living room, Kate and her mother are each wearing small smiles.
“It’s a portulaca. It doesn’t need much water. This has pink and yellow blooms to match Mallory’s prickly pear.”
Kate turns to her mother. “That’s his nickname for Mal.”
“Fitting.” Emily smiles. “Would you like something to drink, Cam? Or is it Walker?”
Mama bear’s not going to let my mess-up slide, and I respect that. “My family calls me Cam.”
“Alright.” She absorbs my words as Kate takes her plant to the sun porch. “I’m glad you came to see Mal, Cam.”
“Me too, Ms. Jenkins.”
“Call me Emily.”
Once the boys are down, I know it’s time to leave. I say goodbye to Emily and Kate, then heave a huge sigh when we step onto the porch.
“Thanks for seeing me today.”
“Thanks for the cactus.”
“I’m staying at Twisted Whiskey for a bit. Let me make you dinner.”
“I don’t know…”
“It’s just dinner, Prickly Pear, and tomorrow’s Sunday. Bring the boys.”
“Okay.”
“Can I pick you up at six?”
“Sounds great.”
I lean down and kiss her cheek, already feeling lighter.