10. Willow
WILLOW
Walking back into my house after returning Sophia to Uncle Mark, I start to feel the adrenaline crash that still creeps up on me, no matter how many times I do this.
My movements are sluggish as I start removing my weapons and holsters, setting them on the desk that I have by the door to catch all of my random shit.
I’ll clean and pack them again later after I recoup from today.
I leave a trail of my clothes from the front door to my bedroom. I’m generally a clean person. Some could argue I go a bit overboard when it comes to keeping my house in order, but after a job, nothing comes between me and my shower. I’ll take care of it when I’m ready.
I get to my bathroom and turn on the water.
I had the entire kitchen and primary bathroom renovated before I moved in.
I fell in love with this old Victorian house the second I saw it: the vaulted ceilings, original crown moldings, and hardwood floors.
It came with two acres so I could build my garage and gym, and still have space for a garden.
I don’t like to leave my house more than I need to, and when I do, it’s usually for work or to hang out with my family, so I need lots of space for my hobbies.
Water pours from the rain shower head, and I turn on the ones that go down the walls on each side.
The hot water runs over my sore muscles, releasing all of the left-over tension.
I haven’t done a job since Mom got sick, and even though I train and work out every day, my muscles aren’t used to it.
Maybe it’s good that I did a test run before I do a real job.
I pushed back the timeline for a day, but it was worth it.
I feel bad for the girl waiting for me to get her, but my family will always come first. I’m just happy that I was still in town when it happened.
Now, I get to see my dad and brothers before I go.
It didn’t feel right not saying goodbye to them, when I don’t even know how long I would be gone.
I stand in the shower until my legs start to shake.
I knew I didn’t have long before the adrenaline was completely gone.
I get out, wrap a towel around me, and tie my hair up in a cotton T-shirt, because if I don’t, my curls will start to rebel, and they’re already going to have to deal with recycled airplane air and humidity when we get there; they can’t take much more.
After losing my hair twice, it’s one thing that I pull out all the stops to take care of.
Walking over to my bed, I turn around and jump in the middle to relax for a few minutes. I will get up to clean and re-pack in a few is the last thing that I think before I drift off to sleep.
I jolt awake five hours later when I hear my text message tone go off.
I roll over to my nightstand where my phone is charging, patting myself on the back for remembering to put it on the charger before I crashed.
When I unlock it, I see that I have almost thirty new text messages.
More than I expected. I called Dad on my way home, so he and the idiots know that I am fine.
The first few are from Uncle Mark and Aunt Jaz, thanking me for getting Sophia. Aunt Jaz even sent a picture of Sophia sleeping comfortably, surrounded by pillows and junk food, which made me smile.
There were a few from the guys and their wives in Uncle Mark’s chapter.
They are as much my family as Mark and Jaz.
They all came to Mom’s memorial, but couldn’t stay as long.
I spent so much time at their clubhouse over the last few years.
It was one of the hardest parts of the move for me.
I would come over to work on bikes and cars with them, or to go on shopping trips with their wives and girlfriends, or even to babysit for them.
I’m even friends with some of the club girls at their clubhouse.
I guess they were told about Sophia and all texted me to thank me and make sure that I was okay.
Some of them asked questions about my job that I was supposed to leave for today.
I love the fact that my “extended family” knows about my freelancing, and I don’t have to hide that part of myself, but that means that I also have to deal with more “mother hens” that I have to reassure that I am okay.
I have a few on the “Quad” group chat asking if I want to get dinner since they will be home soon.
I agree and figure I can make something at my house if they want to come over.
I would rather stay home than go out on a normal day, and after getting Sophia back, I’m not mentally prepared to deal with people.
I asked if Dad wanted to come, and they said he would show up later on.
Just as I’m about to start getting dressed and head to the kitchen to see what I have to cook for dinner, another text comes in. It’s from an unknown number.
Unknown
Hi, Willow. It’s Jackson. I had a chance to go through the stuff from Mom. I was hoping we could talk.
I read the message three more times to decide if I want to deal with him after how our last meeting went, but in the end, I know I’m going to.
It’s what Mom wanted. I know she would never force me to have a relationship with my brother, but it’s something she always wanted for us.
I add his number to my contacts and send a reply.
Me
Hi. We can talk. Do you want me to call or do it in person?
LL-Not-Cool-J
In person would be better. I can meet you wherever you’re comfortable.
I stare down at my phone and think about if I really want to invite this asshole into my space after how our last meeting went.
His texts seem like he is trying to start over, and I know from dealing with my idiots over the years that boys can act like dicks when they are surprised and uncomfortable.
I can always make him leave if he starts to piss me off again, and I know that my mom would have wanted me to give him a chance.
Rolling my eyes at how ridiculous I’m being, I let out a frustrated breath and reply.
Me
I have some packing to do, and I was going to make dinner tonight for the family. You don’t have to stay to meet them if you don’t want, but we can talk while I get my shit done if you’re cool with that.
LL-Not-Cool-J
I’m cool with that. I’m finishing up at the shop. Send me your address and I’ll head over now.
I send over my address, then get out of bed and throw on some comfortable plaid sleep shorts, a tank top, and some fuzzy, cow-print socks that have udders for the toes.
It’s my house, and I refuse to put on uncomfortable clothes in my own home.
I dress with the same courtesy that I give to all my visitors—which, to be honest, is only family—and wear a bra.
I don’t like having strangers in my space, so this is a big deal, and he should consider himself honored.
I walk out of my room and head downstairs, picking up the trail of clothes that I left on the way to my shower and nap.
I look in the fridge and see what I have to cook, and, just as I thought, it’s nothing. I grab my phone and order groceries.
Since I was leaving for a while, I cleaned out the fridge so I didn’t have to deal with it when I got back.
I decide on one of Mom’s recipes that is a family favorite, and submit the order.
I get to work cleaning and re-packing the weapons that I used today.
Deciding not to start the struggle of fitting everything in the same bag again, I just grab another one.
Five minutes after the groceries have been delivered and I finish packing another bag to bring with me, I get an alert from my gate.
I bring up the camera feed on my phone and see Jackson on his bike.
I open the gate and head to the door, standing in front of it for a minute.
Since I never invite people that aren’t family over, I don’t really know how to greet him.
Do I go out and wait for him on the porch to walk up?
That seems awkward as fuck. Do I pretend that I don’t know he’s here and wait for him to ring the doorbell?
I mean, he had to know that I know he’s here because I opened the gate. Why don’t I know basic social skills?!
My internal panic is interrupted when the doorbell rings. Well, I guess we go with option two. Thanks to anxiety for making the choice for us.
I open the door, and now I have to figure out what to say.
I give a small smile that I’m sure looks awkward as fuck, but luckily, he makes the same awkward face, which brings out a real smile for me.
If we’re both awkward, then it’s less awkward for some reason.
I open the door and step aside. “Come on in,” I say, catching myself doing a weird hand motion that looks like I’m presenting a prize on Price is Right, cringing internally at myself.
I really need to get out more, eventually.
“Thanks,” Jackson says as he walks into the house, looking around the entry hall. I start walking through the living room and into the kitchen with him slowly following me. “Do you want something to drink?” I ask, remembering the manners that my mom tried to teach us kids.
“Sure. I’ll take a water if you have one,” he says while still looking around the house.
I look around, too, trying to see it from new eyes.
I worked hard on my home when I first moved in.
It was mostly to keep me busy after Mom died while I was waiting for my brothers to come home for the memorial.
It was a weird time when I felt like Mom was gone, but I couldn’t find the closure.
I needed something to keep me busy until I was ready to face the reality that Mom was not coming back.
Besides the renovations to give me a modern kitchen, bathroom, and building a brand-new garage, I scrubbed the walls and painted them, refinished the original, beautiful hardwood floors, and decorated the entire house.