10. Chapter 10
Chapter ten
Warlock
After I pick up my dad on Sunday, we make our way to Tallahassee’s. As we drive into her neighborhood, I check the address again, convinced I must’ve made a wrong turn somewhere. When I pull into the driveway, I have to stop outside a pair of massive iron gates.
Both Dad and I lean forward, staring through the windshield at the house looming in the distance.
Dad cranes his neck my way. “Are you sure this is the right place?”
“It’s the address she gave me.”
“That’s a really nice house.”
Nice isn’t the word for it. It’s a gazillion-dollar mansion.
I push the gate buzzer. A few seconds later, Tallahassee’s voice comes through the speaker. Until I heard it, I still wasn’t convinced I had the right address.
“Come on up,” she says as the gate begins to open.
I follow the long, winding driveway to the house and park.
When she answers the door, Tallahassee is dressed casually in low-slung jeans, sneakers, and a t-shirt.
I reach out, brushing my hand over her arm, pleased when she doesn’t pull away. “You look great,” I say with a smile.
“I’m not quite ready.” She swings the door wider and invites me in. “I need to pack up the pies, then I’m good to go.”
“Pies?” I follow her into the kitchen, seeing two pies sitting on the counter. “You made these?”
“Why do you sound so surprised?”
“No. I think it’s great you can cook. I’m not surprised, I’m…”
She grins at me. “Surprised?”
Sensing I might be about to step on a landmine, I change the subject. “So this is your house?”
She chuckles and shakes her head. “No. It’s Nash’s.”
I’m hit with a wave of jealousy again. If something’s going on between them, I need to know. “Nash McQueen?”
She nods. “He’s my brother.”
That’s great news.
“Your brother?”
“Well, not biologically, but still. I didn’t mention that?”
“No. It must’ve slipped your mind,” I respond with dry sarcasm.
“From kindergarten on, Nash and I were best friends. His dad drank and wasn’t a nice man, and his mom…well, let’s just say she was overly religious. Nash spent a lot of time at our house because his wasn’t a great place to be.”
Storm clouds brew over her features. “He always knew he was gay. When he came out to his family at fourteen, his dad beat him, and they threw Nash out with nothing but the clothes on his back. They told him he was going to hell. That he wasn’t their son, and he was dead to them.”
“That’s fucked up.”
“Yeah, it is. He escaped to our house, and we ended up keeping him. My parents helped him get emancipated and raised him as their own. As far as we’re concerned, he’s family.”
“I’m sorry he went through that. But it sounds like it was the best thing that could’ve happened to all of you.”
She nods her agreement. “After he won gold at the Olympics, was drafted to the NHL, and made a lot of money, his parents showed up out of nowhere. Calling him ‘son’ like none of the horrible things they’d said and done ever happened.”
“I hope he told them where they could shove it.”
She grins. “Let’s just say it didn’t go well for them.” She glances up at me. “Ready to go?” she asks, picking up the double-decker carrier containing the two pies.
“Yeah. Here, let me carry that.” I take the container from her while she grabs a sweatshirt and slings it over her arm.
“Nash being gay isn’t public knowledge. I’d appreciate it if you kept it to yourself.” I’m elated that she trusts me enough to open up about her family. “Understood. The secret’s safe with me.”
She studies me for a beat, then sets the alarm and pulls the door closed. “Last chance to back out,” she warns.
“Not happening. I wouldn’t miss this for the world. So, you live here with Nash?”
“No. Well, sort of.”
“What does that mean?”
She points across the front yard to a big ass RV parked along the edge of the property. “That’s my house.”
I like it better than her living in a mansion. But there’s embarrassment in her tone.
“It suits you.” I turn to face her, making sure I have her attention. “Did you think I’d judge you for that?”
She responds with a subtle shrug. “Some people do.”
“Well, I’m not one of them.”
My admission earns me one of those rare smiles I crave so badly.
“We’re here!” Tallahassee calls as soon as we cross the threshold of her parents’ split-level ranch house.
A feminine screech comes from the back of the house somewhere. Then chaos erupts. Three barking dogs—two big ones and a little one—come charging into the room, sending a couple of cats I hadn’t noticed scrambling.
My dad, who’s always been a big dog lover, kneels and starts doling out head scratches. “Aren’t you a handsome boy?” he tells the little one, who wags his tail in response.
“That’s Napoleon,” Tallahassee informs him. “He’s a corgi-lab mix. Cleopatra’s the dark grey Pitbull, and the mutt is Daphne.”
Two women emerge from the back of the house. Both are dressed casually and appear to be in their early fifties.
“Oh, there’s our girl!” one says with a huge smile, pulling Tallahassee into a tight hug.
“Hi, Mama.”
As soon as she’s accessible, the other woman takes a turn, hugging her close. “Hi, Mom.”
She releases Tallahassee and turns to face us. “You must be Ralph and Darren.” She grabs our hands. “Welcome. We’re so glad you’re here. I’m Patty, and this is Gloria. We’re Tallahassee’s moms.”
“Nice to meet you.”
“Thank you for having us,” Dad responds, handing Patty the two bottles of wine he brought.
“Fabulous,” Patty says with a smile, taking the bottles. “You didn’t need to do that, Ralph.” She gives him a cheeky grin. “But I’m not unhappy you did.”
“Everyone’s out on the deck, c’mon back,” Gloria tells us.
With the dogs on our heels, the three of us follow Patty and Gloria out a pair of French doors and onto a large deck, complete with a firepit and barbecue. The oversized backyard boasts a big garden, and the fence is lined with different fruit trees.
There’s plenty of seating, including outdoor couches, chairs, and several large picnic tables. It’s cozy, warm, and inviting. Tallahassee relieves me of the pies, setting them on the table, and Patty drops off the wine.
“This is our friend, Cynthia. She’s single,” Patty says, pinning her unwavering gaze on my dad. I swear, both Dad and Cynthia blush. I can’t resist grinning at the spectacle unfolding in front of me. “Cynthia, this is Ralph. He’s also single, and this is his son, Darren.”
The only way Patty could’ve known Dad is single is if Tallahassee told her. Which means either Patty and Gloria questioned her, or Tallahassee volunteered the detail. Either way, I’m happy Tallahassee’s been talking about me and smirk at the implication.
Patty’s eyes sweep the yard. “And Nash. Where’s Nash?”
Grinning, Nash strolls out of the house. When he sees her, he picks Tallahassee up and spins her around.
He shakes my offered hand when Tallahassee introduces us. “Good to meet you.”
“You too.” When I introduce him to my dad, they also share a handshake.
“I’m sure you hear it a lot, but I’m a big fan,” Dad tells him, pumping his hand enthusiastically.
Nash accepts the praise graciously. “Never get tired of hearing it, Ralph.”
Using the corkscrew he found on the table, Dad opens one of the bottles of wine while Tallahassee leads me toward a cooler near the barbecue. Opening it, she asks if I want something to drink. “We’ve got beer, water, soda…”
“A beer would be great.”
She hands me the bottle, grabbing a grape soda for herself.
“Thanks, baby.”
Did I just call her baby?
I never use pet names with women. Why would I? I didn’t mean to say it, it just slipped out.
Luckily, Tallahassee doesn’t seem to notice my slip-up, or if she does, she doesn’t let it show. Nash, however, fights a smile and gives me a look that says he heard it too.
Tallahassee and I stand around chatting with Nash while he mans the grill, cooking burgers, until Patty enlists our help ferrying food from the kitchen out to the table.
By the time we’re done, there’s enough food to feed an army.
The table is laden with salads, fruit, mac and cheese, potato salad, and Tallahassee’s pies.
“All the veggies came from the garden,” Patty says proudly. Then with an over-exaggerated look of distress, she presses a hand to her chest. “Oh. Oh my, I’ve forgotten the tomatoes. Cynthia, could you go pick some for me?”
“Of course.”
Patty pushes a basket into my dad’s chest. “Ralph will help you, won’t you, Ralph?” she says with a sly grin.
Looking more than a little dazed, the two of them stroll toward the garden. When Cynthia leans her head toward him and says something, Dad throws his head back and laughs. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen him act like this with a woman.
Patty catches me watching them. “I’m very good at matchmaking.”
“Mom,” Tallahassee warns. “I’m sure Ralph is perfectly capable of finding his own dates.”
“That may be true, but sometimes people need a gentle push. Isn’t that right, Darren?”
No one is ever going to accuse Patty of being subtle. But watching my dad and Cynthia chatting and laughing, she may have a point. I can’t help grinning at her. “Yes, ma’am.”
Tallahassee looks up at me. “Don’t encourage her.”
“Darren, there’s a platter in the fridge with onions, lettuce, pickles, and tomatoes for the hamburgers. Could you grab it for me, please?” Patty asks.
“Tomatoes?” I raise a suspicious eyebrow. “You’ve got a devious streak, Patty.”
I shake my head when she winks and innocently tells me, “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
When Nash brings a platter of burgers to the table, we dig in. The food is good, the conversation lively as we get to know each other. We take turns sharing tales told to gales of laughter and amusement. The best way I can describe the mood is chaotic happiness.
After we’ve stuffed ourselves and demolished most of the feast, I excuse myself to use the bathroom. On my way back, I linger over some of the photographs lining the wall.