Chapter 28 #2
“Yeah, yeah. I haven’t had time to trim it.
Don’t sweat it; I’m not keeping it long,” Rhys reassures our very worried family, passing a hand through said beard.
It’s not that long—we just like messing with him and getting him to crack that tough exterior.
“Stop pestering me when Nash can’t physically take off that musty baseball hat. ”
“Not cool, man. Leave my hat alone.”
My eyes find Ivy’s, and we exchange an amused smirk. She has no idea what she’s gotten herself into by coming here.
“You’re not twenty anymore,” Rhys adds. “And it’s not even sunny out.”
Nash adjusts said baseball hat over his head. “It’s not about the sun. It’s a statement piece.”
“It’s the backward hat that’s not giving you more grandchildren, Mom,” I say.
She shrugs. “I know, but what can you do?”
“What do you mean, you haven’t had time to trim your beard?” Dad asks Rhys, frowning.
Our dad isn’t a serious man by any means—we don’t know where Rhys got his sour personality from—but between Mom and him, he’s definitely the worrier.
My older brother runs a hand through his hair, which is darker than Nash’s and mine. If I didn’t know him, the gesture would look nonchalant. But because I do, sometimes better than he knows himself, I see it for what it is—Rhys pretending to have his shit together.
“It’s been busy at work,” he explains.
“We could watch Lexi these couple of weeks we’re here,” Mom offers. “You know we love her, so it’s no trouble. That way you could rest a little. You look exhausted, honey. Doesn’t he look tired, Hank?”
“He does.”
“I’m fine,” Rhys repeats.
Lexi groans. “I’m hungry.”
Nash scoops her up in his arms, making her giggle. “Little lady here is reading my mind. Let’s eat dinner.”
While everybody gathers in the dining room, I walk up to Ivy where she’s sitting on the couch.
She smirks up at me. “Your mom is a savage.”
“Yeah, she’s been dealing with our shit for almost forty years. Can’t blame her.”
“Your dad is really nice too. We were chatting about Florida.”
“Oh, yeah?” She puts her hand in the crook of my arm as I guide her to the dining room. “Did he tell you about the alligators in their backyard?”
“Yep. I’m pretty sure poor Lexi will have nightmares for days,” she says. “Oh, and your brother does look stressed. I’m a master at concealing it, so I would know.”
“Rhys?”
She nods. “Is he always so serious?”
“Being a stoic asshole is his personality.”
“I wouldn’t say he’s an asshole. Your dad was doing most of the talking, but Rhys is nice to me.”
“He’s a good man. Cold, detached, but good,” I concede. “He would never be an asshole just for the sake of it, let alone to a woman. Mom would be the first to beat him unconscious.”
“I believe you. Where’s Lexi’s mom, by the way?” she asks in a lower voice, for my ears only. “I know she isn’t coming, but you didn’t say why, and I’m nosy.”
The proximity of her mouth to my skin lights me on fire.
“It’s complicated, but they have a good co-parenting relationship,” I explain in an equally low voice. “They’re friends more than anything else.”
“Well, I’m not sure I’m qualified, but if he needs a babysitter….”
“You already have two jobs,” I point out, to which she rolls her eyes. “I appreciate you trying to help, but he’ll be fine. Rhys always figures it out.”
Whatever is going on with him, I trust that he will solve it. Nash and I will always be there for him, and he knows it. He hasn’t said anything to us, so it might not be as bad as we’re making it up in our heads.
“I know what it’s like to carry the responsibility of raising a kid,” she says somberly. “You said he was a deputy sheriff, right? I can imagine why he’s so exhausted.”
“He’ll be fine. We’re a resilient bunch.” I squeeze her hand as we near the dining room, where everyone is already sitting and bringing plates to the table. “I hope you like roast chicken.”
Dinner is pure torture. Not because I don’t have a good time—impossible when Nash and Lexi are in the same room and team up against Rhys—but because sitting next to Ivy, her leg pressed against mine and her sweet perfume constricting my lungs, drives me insane.
It doesn’t help that she gets along with everybody so well. Her conversations with my parents are easy—they joke around at my expense, which I don’t mind—and my brothers have already been vocal about liking her.
My situation only gets worse when, as my brothers and I clean up before bringing out dessert, Lexi climbs into her lap and shows her a new book my parents got her at the airport.
I don’t want kids. My desire not to become a father hasn’t changed, but damn it. Seeing her with my niece stings. She would fit into my family so well; she already does.
The sound of a phone ringing brings me out of my head.
“Sorry, Lexi,” Ivy apologizes as she reaches for her purse hanging from the back of the chair.
“I got you.” Lexi squeals as I scoop her in my arms and set her on my hip. I kiss the top of her head before turning to Ivy, who’s frowning at the screen. “Everything okay? Is it Joe?”
“No, but I have to take this,” she says absentmindedly, glancing at her screen. “Sorry. You can eat dessert without me.”
With Lexi in my arms, I join my brothers in the kitchen. The island is full of plates and chocolate cake, but suddenly I’m not hungry anymore.
“Leaving your girl alone?” Nash teases.
I roll my eyes, not bothering to answer. Partially because Lexi is squeezing my face, so I can’t.
Rhys glances up from the island, where he’s covering the leftovers to put them in the fridge. “Stop squeezing Uncle Ford, bug. You’ll make him even uglier.”
Both she and Nash burst into laughter, and I think I see a smirk on my older brother’s face.
“Ha ha,” I say, my voice muffled. I blow raspberries in Lexi’s hands, making her squeal again. When I put her back down, she wastes no time running to hug her dad’s legs.
“Daddy, can I have some cake?”
Rhys puts a hand on the back of her head. “Only a little. We’ll take some home for tomorrow.”
Nash tugs at one of her pigtails affectionately as he passes her. “We don’t need the sugar monster coming to get us tonight.”
“Definitely not,” Rhys mutters.
I’ve witnessed firsthand how hyperactive Lexi gets after some nighttime sugar, so I can’t help but agree.
“But let’s not change subjects,” Nash says, putting some containers of leftovers in the fridge. “What’s the deal with you and Ivy?”
“There’s no deal,” I say, perhaps a little too quickly.
Even Rhys sends me a look.
“We aren’t defining our relationship for now.”
“No offense, but that’s dumb,” Nash says, closing the fridge and joining Rhys on one side of the island while I stand on the other. “What’s keeping you from putting a name to it?”
“Life,” I deadpan, not in the mood to elaborate.
Nash says something else, but I’m not paying attention. From the corner of my eye, I spot Ivy coming back to the dining room, a deep frown between her brows.
My parents don’t notice me as I set some plates down on the dining table, too wrapped up in their own conversation.
“You okay?” I ask her in a low voice, just for our ears.
She hesitates, worrying her lip between her teeth.
Fuck it. Not caring who sees, I grab her chin between my fingers and tilt it up. “I’m on your side, Ivy.”
The magnetism of her gaze traps me. It’s hypnotizing, like all of her, but I become even weaker when she looks at me like this. Like she can’t believe we’ve found each other.
“It’s my dad,” she starts quietly. “He called me from jail. He wants to see me. Said it’s urgent.”
“Okay.” I search her gaze. “And you don’t want to see him?”
She shrugs. We’re standing so close to each other, her body heat seeps into my skin.
“I haven’t seen him since the accident. I didn’t want to.”
“Joe told me he was in the car with him,” I say, hesitant to bring her brother up but wanting her to know that I’m aware of that. “Is that why you don’t want to see him?”
She nods, her chin still between my fingers. “He’s a piece of shit for what he did to Joe.”
The protectiveness in her voice feels too familiar.
“But he said it was important, and I have….” She hesitates. “I have this gut feeling.”
“You don’t have to forgive him if you don’t want to,” I reassure her, as if she needs my permission. She doesn’t, but I want to make her feel better. “You’re allowed to just hear him out. It doesn’t have to change anything.”
“Would you come with me?”
“To visit your dad in jail?”
“I know it’s a little too much—”
“Hey,” I interrupt her gently. “Nothing you ever ask of me is too much because you aren’t too much.”
She sighs almost imperceptibly. “Okay.”
“I’ll come with you,” I promise her. “You aren’t alone.”
Whether we’re friends or something more, I will always be on her side. I don’t want her to ever question it.