4
Jett
“I think I might move here,” I blurt, interrupting Reece’s spiel about his current gig as a ranch hand.
His head jerks in my direction, hand pausing its stirring. Big brother is making chicken Alfredo, one of the best comfort foods ever created. Also proof that he’s still trying to baby me.
“I’m sorry. I could have sworn you just interrupted my fascinating story about Havoc and his hay bale shenanigans to tell me you’re moving?”
Nodding eagerly, I snatch a piece of shredded chicken from his cutting board. “Well, not yet, obviously. I haven’t found a place to live yet. I just decided on it today. Living near you can’t be too bad, and it makes getting here easier than driving from the other side of Covington. Hey, isn’t Havoc the horse that broke your boss? Is he still broken?”
Reece chuckles while rubbing a hand over his face like I exhaust him. Fun fact, I do. “Yeah, Jett. Drew is still broken, but I don’t think he’d appreciate you phrasing it like that.” He pauses, looking off thoughtfully. “Though I think it’s more than just his shoulder, honestly. He’s seemed off, like he’s not fully there on the days he comes out to supervise.” Then he waves his sauce-covered spatula at me. “Stop changing the subject, missy. Moving. Since when? Where are you thinking?”
“Since my rent is up in three weeks—”
“Damn it, Jett. You have to stop doing that with your living arrangements,” he interrupts.
My words keep rolling without pause, ignoring the brother bear act. “—and I don’t want to stay in the same house that Joey and I shared anymore, since he left me for someone else. You’re here. My new therapist is here. She suggested it actually. Well, sort of. Maybe not suggested as much as just asked if I was going to? Anyway, I met with her for the first time, like, three hours ago. And then McKenna is only fifteen minutes away. It’s perfect.”
“Hold on. Go back. What the hell, Jennette? You said he left. Not that it was because of another person.”
Oops. I forgot I haven’t shared that little turd nugget about Joey yet, but Reece isn’t done. I woke brother bear. He’s such a happy-go-lucky individual until I cause him stress.
“And did you say your new therapist? And honestly, why haven’t you mentioned that your lease was almost up? I would’ve helped you secure a place.”
I shrug, vaguely grasping the fact I’ve once again procrastinated in an area I most definitely shouldn’t. Although it wouldn’t be the first time if I end up in my brother’s guest room for something similar. I could find a little place like this. Two-bedroom, single bath, open floor plan. It could be cute. Well, until the doom piles eventually take over the corners of the living space.
“Jett. Focus,” Reece says, tapping the counter in front of me. Irritation is brewing in his eyes, but he’s doing his best to keep his cool. I’m a pro at pulling out the angry side of him. It seems to be reserved for me and McKenna.Our dad always jokes that the eleven months separating me and Reece in age wasn’t enough time for our mom to refill the optimism jar, but quite honestly, I don’t think my brother is too optimistic when it comes to me surviving on my own.
“Right, so there was this incident today where I got stuck in an elevator and missed my appointment and they couldn’t reschedule, but I needed to have an appointment today because I was fixating, right? They gave me a number for the therapist here in Havenwood, and I really like her and I don’t have to drive on the interstate to get to an appointment.”
“Jennette Marie Taylor, what in the world?”
“I know, right?” I say while grinning, winded from my continuous spout of words. “And there was this guy—the elevator mechanic—who saved me. He was a little growly, but he talked me through everything and I didn’t have an anxiety attack.” My shoulders relax on a sigh, the tension from the day slowly seeping away. Until I focus on Reece and recognize the look on his face.
“Why the hell didn’t you tell me about Joey?”
“I did.”
“No, you said you guys broke up. Not that he left you for someone else. So, he was cheating?” The anger coming off him is palpable. He thought Joey and I were planning our forever. Everyone did.
Rolling my eyes at Reece, I say, “So you could end up in jail for assault? No thanks. And I don’t want to talk about him. I just want him to disappear from my memories while I wait for a fictional knight in shining armor to sweep me off my feet. One who treats me like a princess and brings his own crazy to the relationship. Just like you and Dad always said I deserved.”
Reece shakes his head at me as he mixes in the last ingredients—basil butter, at least a pound of mozzarella, and cream cheese—into the gigantic pot on the stove. Once he is satisfied with the consistency of the Alfredo sauce, he turns off the burner and approaches me from around the corner of the bar-style counter, sliding his phone in front of me. I look questioningly at it then stare back at him, my eyebrows furrowed. Before I can ask, he nods toward the calendar on the fridge.
“Mom has already tried to call. Twice. Call her back.”
A groan works its way up my throat. I do not want to tune in to this week’s disappointment session. “Can’t you just pretend I’m sick or something?”
He gives me a pointed look and taps the phone’s screen. Pouting with an audible sigh, I unlock the screen and hit the contact for our mother. Silently, I beg for her not to answer. For her to be too busy with her perfect little family.
Am I bitter that she and our dad split during my junior year of high school, Reece’s senior? Not really. Turns out they had only stayed married out of convenience and friendship—and their children—but our mom had fallen in love with her assistant. She and Luke married not long after she left us. Reece and I now have two little sisters that we—well, I—only see a few times each year. My big-hearted brother sees them regularly.
So, no. I’m not bitter about the divorce.
My frustration comes from our mom’s inability to understand me.
She tried her best, but even now she usually hands off any Jennette issues to our dad or Reece.
For the last three years, Reece and I have had standing calls on Thursday evenings. Just like when we were kids, Mama expects me to engage in the conversation and share everything happening in my life. And just like when we were kids, I always disappoint her.
Pressure on my forearm brings my attention back around as Reece squeezes it. “Hi, Mama. Yeah. We’re both here,” he says while giving me a gentle second nudge, and I realize I must have missed her answering the call.
“My oldest babies. How are y’all this week? What’s new?”
Reece eyes me, waiting for me to expose who knows what. I widen my eyes at him in innocence and shrug. I do not feel like explaining myself to a voice on a speaker. What’s the point if I can’t stay focused on the conversation at hand?
“Not much new going on at the farm. No new love interests for you to interrogate. Jett, how ’bout you? Wanna tell mom what’s new with you?”
If eyes could set people on fire, my brother would be roasting right now.
“Fill me in, Jett. I’m still waiting for the girls to come out of dance practice, so give me all the details you can muster.”
My eyes close, as if not seeing my surroundings will somehow erase this moment from time.
“Nothing really, Mama. Just been spending some time out here with Reece and getting ready to devour some Alfredo, but overall life’s a peach.”
The beat of total silence and Reece rubbing the back of his neck clues me in to my biggest mistake of the evening.
“Jennette, honey,” Mama prods gently, like she is coddling a toddler. “Reece only makes that dish when you’re having a rough go. What’s happened?”
I groan audibly, looking at Reece for help.
“Don’t try that just because I can’t see you, Jett. You are too old to let your brother do the talking for you. What is going on that has your brother stressed enough to cook chicken Alfredo?” Of course, the woman who raised us knows when I try to deflect situations to my brother even when she can’t see us.
My knee bounces of its own free will. Just like when I lived under her roof, my muscles draw tight, tension building between my shoulder blades. The flat-out refusal to answer her question is on the tip of my tongue, but my lungs squeeze a breath out.
I’m trying to become a better version of me. A stronger version. One that doesn’t cower from conversations with people who love her.
“Joey left. I got stuck in an elevator, I changed therapists, and I’m moving. Sorry. Gotta go. Love you, Mom.” Before Reece can sense what I am about to do, I slam my thumb against the end button, cutting off the call and staring at the device on the counter while my breathing turns ragged.
I can’t take in enough oxygen. The familiar sting of tears sits behind my eyes, but I shut it down. I refuse to shed one more tear over this nightmare of a month. And maybe it wasn’t a great first try at being strong, but it’s more than I have done in recent months.
Reece tries to wrap a comforting arm around my shoulders, but I push back. I can’t handle being touched right now. Even the material of my favorite sweatshirt feels like too much contact, the fibers scratching against my skin.
“I’m going for a walk. Please don’t follow.” I push away from the counter and rush to the entryway, grabbing my lined raincoat on the way. The rain stopped a few hours ago, but this time of year, you just never can quite trust the weatherman in Georgia.
I don’t have a destination in mind, since I’ve never taken the time to explore Havenwood. Reece moved here a few years ago, but the only thing we ever do when I come to visit is stay in at his house. On the rare occasion that I travel anywhere here, I find myself at the little bar and diner owned by Jace Riley. I’ll add it to my to-do list to explore the town so many people love.
And that’s the thing. Loving this town is a requirement for living here. Outsiders know almost nothing about it. It’s like stepping into a small town romance novel, complete with a bar and grill, coffee shop, bed-and-breakfast, and a town square where constant community activities take place. Old cattle properties make up the outer border of the town, and the Flynn family ranch—River Haven Ranch—makes up the south part of town.
I wander around the square, taking in the leftover Christmas decorations—twinkling lights in the trees and wreaths on the lampposts—all around me as my mind runs through too many thoughts and scenarios for me to fully grasp any of them.
The beauty of the small town perfection isn’t enough to keep me in the here and now. My mind is stuck on replay. I walked away from Reece and Mama. Again. Just like I did with Joey. Just like I always do when I get overwhelmed.
Against better judgment, I make my way to Riley’s. I slip through the door unnoticed and take a seat at the far end of the bar. My head falls into my hands while I try to drown out the multiple voices and trains of thought flitting through my mind.
Maybe a few shots of whiskey will quiet things for me. Lord knows it’s been a hell of a day.