16. Chapter 16
Chapter 16
Maci
W hen I wake in the morning, I don’t feel like crawling out my own skin and my incision isn’t as tender. Following doctor’s orders isn’t my forte, but at least my body is healing appropriately.
After a steaming shower, I turn on the bathroom fan to remove the humidity as usual. Today, the noise is overwhelming. I flip the switch off and open both doors to the Jack and Jill bathroom to let the air circulate.
A gun case in the corner of the office catches my eye as I swing the bathroom door open on that side. I haven’t spent much time in here. Aside from the desk and some seating, there’s a mini fridge and the spectacular map of Texas on the wall that I noticed the first time I came over.
Several rifles and shotguns are on display through the glass door of the gun case, though it’s not full. A small handgun sits on one of the wooden shelves inside, alongside some medals in velvet cases and other memorabilia.
My own handgun is now locked away in the Bull Creek Police Department, assuming that’s where they house evidence. I don’t anticipate ever getting it back, not that I asked about procedure.
I pad into the office, the wood floors cool underfoot. Compulsively, my fingers trace the dark mahogany before I try the door. It’s unlocked and opens with a loud click into the room. With a sure grip, I pull the gun out and examine it. It’s a similar size to mine, a little heavier, and unloaded. I slip it into the holster in my jeans before opening a low drawer to find the magazine.
Even with the new weapon in my possession, I don’t feel any better. I should. With or without it, my villain is gone. Right?
It wasn’t supposed to be this way.
When I started carrying a few years ago, I hoped it would help me feel protected. Maybe falsely for a while, I did. Now I feel stuck in a deeper, darker place than I did back then.
I never wanted to be a killer. I just wanted to be safe. Aside from being tucked into Sutton’s arms, I don’t know if I’ll ever feel that way again.
I close the door on the case and make a mental note to tell Sutton I have the gun for now.
The sun hasn’t fully risen as I make my way inside The Big House. It’s oddly quiet when I enter. The usual kitchen noise is missing.
“Oh, Maci.” Andi greets me with a signature smile. “I didn’t expect to see you so soon.”
My cheeks flush. “I don’t think I’d like to get a reputation as a late riser around here.”
She laughs. “Nonsense. You sleep as long as you want.” She’s busy cleaning up from breakfast and I check the dining table for anything else that needs to be washed or put away. Her voice follows me. “If you’re looking for some of the muffins you made, I’m afraid you’re out of luck. The hands finished them off right quick and in a hurry.”
A breathy laugh leaves me. “I wasn’t, but I’m glad they enjoyed them.”
“They were singing your praises,” she tells me with a smile when I re-enter the kitchen.
My brow furrows. “I hope you didn’t give me all the credit. All I did was follow instructions.”
“I didn’t say anything. Actually, they were talking about your photos.”
“My photos?” I haven’t held a camera in too many days, which creates a different kind of ache.
“Yep. I didn’t hear it all, but sounds like they saw your work from the Fall Festival.”
For what feels like the first time in too long, pride races through my body. Photography is important to me, and documenting special times for families genuinely makes me feel good. I love sharing in those special moments with them. So hearing that people I don’t really know enjoy my work, versus my biased friends, is a welcome form of flattery.
“Speaking of that…” Andi looks at me where I’m washing a casserole dish in the sink. “The Jingle Bell Bash is coming up soon. Are you interested in an appearance?”
“Is your other photographer unavailable again?”
She grabs a towel and takes the dish to dry it. “I haven’t checked, to be honest. We didn’t book her in advance for this event and she hasn’t reached out since she had to pull out of the Fall Festival.”
“As long as you don’t think it will cause drama, I’m happy to do it.” The last thing I need right now is more small-town drama. “Maybe my window won’t get bashed in this time.”
It’s an ill-timed joke and Andi looks at me with a sad smile.
“Actually, the ranch hands asked after you, too.” She looks at me from the corner of her eye. “I think you and Sutton have more in common than you think.”
I’m unsure what she means and turn fully to face her, shutting off the water.
“I don’t know why, but you two both seem content to take care of others without letting them in. The ranch hands respect Sutton, and I think they’d like to think of him as a friend, but he keeps them at arm’s length.” She mulls over her words. “But maybe that’s changing. They’ve shown concern over you, and that may be enough to set him on the right course.”
I cock my head. “Why are they worried about me?”
She raises an eyebrow at me, in a way I suspect she looks at her own children. “You two sure are cut from the same cloth.” She breathes a laugh and shakes her head. “They’re aware something happened last weekend. This ranch is home to them, and we take care of our own around here.”
Once again, I’m struck by being surrounded by people who are genuine in their care for me. People I barely know who worry about me, while my own mother kept the Great Wall between us.
I sigh. “I have close friends. Not many, but I do.”
“I’m not judging you, sweetheart,” she promises. “Sutton has friends, too. The fact remains that you two could stand to let some others into your circle. Or let your circle in more, for that matter.” She’s not the first person to say something similar.
She scrubs the long counter close to the dining room and starts pulling out ingredients.
“What are you working on?”
“I’m going to make some pasta. I haven’t made homemade pasta in a while, and I’m in the mood for some.” The smile on her face is serene, just for her.
“Sounds delicious.”
She dumps an ample amount of flour onto the counter, creating a large dome. It reminds me a bit of making a volcano in school. She spreads a hole in the middle. “Have you ever made homemade pasta?”
I shake my head, even though she hasn’t looked away from her new creation. “No. Nana taught me her chicken noodle recipe, but we never made pasta from scratch. Just bagged egg noodles.”
Andi smirks at me. “I know she knew how to make pasta from scratch.” She’s steadily cracking eggs.
“I’m sure. We were teenagers during the lesson, so as special as it was, she probably took a shortcut on that step.” I smile, thinking about my best friends and me in Nana’s homey kitchen; the distinct scents of fresh vegetables and chicken stock are almost close enough to be real again. “Actually, I’d love to make a large batch for everyone. Whenever it would be helpful to you.”
Andi beams over her shoulder. The flour puffs and kisses her cheek as she turns. “That would be lovely!”
A shrill ringing fills the air and I jump. Andi, elbow-deep in the dough she’s creating, peeks over her shoulder again. “Would you mind grabbing that, dear?” She nods at the aging phone hanging on the wall.
“Uh, sure.” The phone trills again before I can remove it from the cradle. “Hello?”
“Uh…hi? Did I—” A young female voice hesitates on the other line.
“Are you trying to reach the Strickland residence?”
“Yes.” Her statement is almost a question, and her tone changes from confused to suspicious. “Who is this?”
“This is Maci.” Eyeing Andi from where I stand, she hums as she presses the dough. I shift on my feet.
“Maci? This is Sammi. You’re Sutton’s girlfriend.” Excitement sneaks in at the end, and a blush coats my skin. My heart rate picks up and I smile stupidly.
“Yes. Hi, Sammi.”
“Hi, honey!” Andi yells from her place but doesn’t clean her hands. Apparently, she’s not in a hurry to chat.
“My parents are the only people I know who have a landline; I’m not used to hearing a different voice on the line. Sorry.”
“No apologies necessary. I should’ve announced the house name.”
Sammi chuckles. “Don’t worry about it. What are y’all up to today?”
Is this small talk? Shouldn’t she be asking for Andi? “Um, well, your mom is currently elbow-deep in pasta dough.” Gripping the dangling cord in one hand, I twirl my pointer finger in and out of the permanent ringlets.
“I’m so jealous. Mama’s pasta is to die for.”
“I haven’t had anything that’s less than amazing,” I agree. “Did she teach you, too?”
“Oh, no,” Sammi laughs. “I’m helpless in the kitchen.”
That’s a twist I didn’t expect. In my head, Sammi would’ve naturally followed in her mother’s love for the kitchen, but it’s an outdated assumption. “Oh.”
“Are Daddy and Sutton out?”
Daddy. It’s sweet. I didn’t have the opportunity to be a daddy’s girl, but I wonder what that would’ve been like. “Yes. They started early this morning.”
“I know that’s the truth.” There’s a note of sarcasm in her voice. “They’re always up before the rooster crows. I never had it in me. I’d be in so much trouble if I had to stay on the ranch.”
I laugh knowingly. “I’ve never been a morning person either, until now.”
“Oh no! Did Sutton rope you into ranch life? You tell my brother he can’t make you get up if you don’t want to. You’re an independent woman and he can’t force you into cow manure and forced baby-making.”
“Are we still talking about the cows?” The playful question tumbles off my lips as I take in her short rant.
“Ohmygod!” That sets her into a fit of laughter, going until she can’t breathe. I check on Andi at the counter, but she doesn’t seem to care what’s happening on the phone as she makes a neat ball of dough, wrapping it in plastic wrap. Sammi manages to compose herself. “Yes, I was referring to the cows being forced to breed.” Her words are almost breathless.
I chuckle. “Well, no worries. Sutton has never asked me to get up with him. In fact, he’s really quiet in the morning. He always leaves me coffee, though.”
“Coffee?” She contemplates this for a moment as I hum affirmation. “He doesn’t even like coffee.”
A wide smile splits my face. “I know. He prefers water. Or juice, sometimes.”
“Wow.”
Andi sets the dough away and I gesture the phone in an offering. She waves me away and works on cleaning up the counter. I decide, without a doubt, this was a setup. She quietly hums a song I don’t know.
“So, when are you two coming up here?” Sammi’s words come out in a rush.
“Um, I’m not sure. We’ve had…”
“It’s ok,” Sammi says, softly. “You don’t have to explain…I kind of heard.”
That doesn’t really come as a surprise. “Yeah.” I inhale deeply. “Well, Sutton mentioned coming up soon, so it’s a definite. I’m sorry we haven’t scheduled something already, but I am looking forward to meeting you and your family.”
“I am, too.” A baby cries. “That’s Vivi. I have to run. Tell everyone I love them. Nice talking to you, Maci.”
“You, too. Bye.” I wait for her to hang up, standing with the phone against my ear for longer than necessary. A new ache infiltrates my chest.
I assume most only-children always want a sibling. Someone to play with. I didn’t. I did want that connection, though. More so since my dad was out of the picture and Stephanie was so distant.
My best friends filled that for me in many ways. Still, I can’t help but hope that Sammi and I could form a strong bond someday.