Chapter 21
Alice
“You should have called me!” Whitney launches into my arms. She pulls back with her hands on my shoulders. Worried eyes meet mine. “I would have come get you.”
My muscles release some of the lingering tension. “I was too spooked, Whit. I didn’t want to stand there waiting in case whoever that was came back.”
Her recoil reveals the thought didn’t occur to her. “Why didn’t you tell me someone was bothering you in Arizona?”
“You think I wanted to bring all that history up for you?” I say quietly, unable to keep the shame from my voice. “What if that podcaster starts harassing you? Or worse, your kids?”
Determination fills her eyes. “He won’t. Jack would never let him get that close.”
“I thought it would go away. I didn’t mean to hide it from you.”
My best friend pulls me in for another hug. “I understand. I’m just glad Sutton was close.”
My eyes slide to where he’s busy greeting Jack and the kids in the foyer. Lucy and Bennett run through to find Nellie. Sutton picks up Soren’s hand and speaks to the one-year-old. The little boy kicks his feet happily in his dad’s arms.
Beneath the tough, grumpy exterior is what amounts to a gooey marshmallow. At least when it comes to kids.
“I’m pretty sure I scared the hell out of him.”
“Was it bad?” She grimaces, eyes tracing the bruises on my face.
I huff. “I think so. I didn’t have a mirror. I’ll have to see if Sutton’ll share the video footage from the security cam. I’m pretty sure I looked like Carrie covered in blood.”
“Sutton’s T-shirt makes much more sense.” Her lips quirk.
I changed from the sweatshirt to a tee after Sutton’s mom left to get breakfast in an attempt to be less conspicuous.
An endeavor that failed by the way his clothes swallow me.
I pluck the soft oversized cotton from the center of my chest and let it drop.
“We’re going to head to my place this afternoon for some clothes. ”
“What do you mean?”
“This is officially a live-in position. I’ve effectively been kidnapped by my boss.”
Her lips press into a thin, flat line. “That didn’t take long,” she mutters.
“Oh no. Don’t you even go there,” I whisper, wagging my finger at her. “This isn’t like you getting trapped with Jack in a blizzard. Nothing is keeping me here.”
“Except a six-foot-one police officer who’s concerned for your safety.”
My eyes slide to the side as a flush hits my cheeks. The concept of Sutton keeping me here warms my belly. It’s a nice thought. But in the spirit of self-preservation, it’s not one I’ll readily accept. If life has taught me anything, it’s that people never stick around.
“He is not concerned for me. He’s just doing his job,” I quietly rebuke.
Sutton’s icy blue eyes meet mine for a beat as he passes by. A flutter stirs in my stomach.
Jack stops beside the table and drops a heavy hand on my shoulder. With a squeeze, he shakes his head. “Never fuckin’ again. Next time, I’m driving you home myself.”
I raise both of my hands. “Don’t worry. That’s the last time I argue about a free ride home.”
“Good. I’m glad you’re okay.” With baby Soren on his hip, he moves deeper into the house.
“How are you? Really?” Whitney picks up my lukewarm coffee cup.
I pluck it from her hands and cross the kitchen to top it off. I pull down a clean mug from the cabinet for her. “I’m good. Fighting a low this morning, but that’s not unusual after a night of drinking.”
She joins me at the coffee pot. “Gosh, I’m sorry, girl. I suppose this might be a good time to warn you that the cavalry is coming.”
The cavalry? I jerk my head around mid-pour. “Who exactly would that be?”
“Pretty much everyone who was at the bar last night.”
“You’re joking.”
“I’m absolutely not. The Powells always get together on Sundays for dinner anyway, so when the texts and calls went out last night, everyone agreed to just meet here a day early.”
The news stuns me. No wonder Sutton didn’t seem surprised by Whitney’s arrival. The fact that my ordeal made it into the family group chat feels unfamiliar. “The texts and calls?”
“Are you sure you’re okay? Do you really think we heard what happened to you last night and didn’t immediately want to come check on you? The only thing that kept us away was Sutton threatening to shoot anyone who showed up on his doorstep while you were trying to get some rest.”
That explains why my texts to her from the emergency room were uncharacteristically short. Sutton was able to clean the blood of my cell and get it working again, but by her responses, I assumed she was half asleep.
The carafe of coffee hits the counter with an audible thunk. “I think I’m going to hyperventilate.”
She gently pries my grip from the handle. “What’s the big deal?”
“These aren’t my people,” I murmur.
“What are you talking about? Of course, they are.”
“No, you don’t get it. These are your people. From the beautiful life you’ve made here. My people were my Chihuahua, Pepe, god rest his soul, an eighty-year-old named Archie, and a cactus from home that I’ve named Bert and grown weirdly attached to.”
“Only one of those things is a people.”
“I’ve been alone for a long time. It’s been years since you moved away and my brother went to jail. I don’t know how to just be”—I windmill my arms wildly—“taken in like a stray dog.”
Whitney smirks around the rim of her coffee mug. “Fortunately for you, that’s their specialty.”
She doesn’t get it. She’s so easy to love. I’m the outsider here. And when things go wrong, even more wrong than they already have, and it’s Sutton’s word against mine, I’m the one who’s going to lose every single time.
She pulls me into a side hug. “Just keep being yourself, Alice. These people already adore you.”
I want to believe her. Truly. But experience has told me time and again that people always leave me behind.
A knock on the front door announces more arrivals.
People just keep coming in. I’ve spent enough time around the girls teaching them dance steps to know them by face, but last night at The Line & Lariat was my first time seeing all the guys together.
Based on who arrives with who, I piece together the couples.
Bree walks in holding her daughter Charlotte’s hand, followed by a man with dark curly hair and glasses, who must be Corjan.
He holds their young son, Weston, on his hip.
Isla arrives next with her husband, Aiden.
He’s the only guy in the group with reddish-blond hair.
Baby John sleeps with his head buried in his dad’s neck.
Juniper trails in the open door with her husband, Lee.
He’s holding a glass container with what looks like chocolate chip cookies.
Everyone exchanges brief greetings with each other, and I’m passed around for hugs from the girls when the door opens again.
Cortney comes in next, her long black hair tied into a high ponytail.
Spencer, her partner, is Sutton’s brother.
He carries a large cooler. Silas bounds in after them, slapping Spencer’s back and kissing Cortney on the temple.
Spencer scowls, and the two men walk off in search of their oldest brother.
The girls settle in like they own the place. Coolers of meats, cheeses, and fruits are unpacked. Bottles of wine appear from somewhere. Bree and Juniper work on arranging a massive charcuterie spread on Sutton’s counter.
Whitney leads me to a kitchen chair, plunking me down with my coffee cup like an unruly toddler. She secures the seat to my left, Cortney settles in on my right, and Isla sits beside her.
I nudge Whitney with my knee beneath the table. “You really weren’t kidding.”
“No.” She fights a smile. The sight of it causes my lips to twitch too.
The usually quiet home is filled with an electric hum. Adults converse in all common areas of the main floor and kids squeal as they run back and forth from Nellie’s playroom to her basement bedroom. Outside of a public setting, I’ve never experienced so many people in one room.
“This is normal for you?” I ask the table.
“Every Sunday,” Isla answers.
“Nancy and Terrance started it,” Cortney adds.
“Who are Nancy and Terrance?”
“My adoptive parents. They took in each of us Powells,” Cortney replies.
From my understanding, that includes Cortney, Lee, Jack, Jude, Aiden, and Corjan.
She continues, “Though it didn’t become a tradition until after Dad died.
Lee and I were adults and Corjan and Aiden were new to our family.
We wanted a way to all stay connected to each other. ”
My throat feels tight. “That’s really beautiful.”
Cortney flicks her gaze through the room before resting it on mine. “Each year we seem to grow a little bit bigger.”
“Who wants wine?” Juniper appears beside me with a bottle in each hand.
“Yes, please,” Whitney says. “Coffee isn’t strong enough this morning.”
“Hair of the dog for me,” Bree groans, flopping into the seat beside Whitney.
“I’ll take some. A small glass.” I shouldn’t drink again, but the sugar in the white might help level me out. I’ve been dipping low all morning.
“If I were you, I’d be taking down the entire bottle.” Cortney’s eyes skim my face.
“I’d love to, but…” I tap my CGM on the back of my arm. “I need to be responsible.”
“Isla? Anything for you?” Juniper starts doling out glasses.
“Well, speaking of things growing a bit bigger…” Isla stands and rubs her hand over her lower stomach. “I’m going to have to pass.”
“What!” Juniper screeches, setting down the bottle in her hand a little too hard. The others join in with celebratory screams. “I didn’t even notice you not drinking last night!”
“Aiden kept me well stocked on sparkling waters with lime.” Isla beams as she’s pulled into Juniper’s embrace.
“Why’s everybody screaming?” A man’s voice enters the fray.
Heads turn toward the door as Frankie, Jude, and an older woman I haven’t met yet enter the noisy kitchen.
“She just told everyone she’s having my baby,” Aiden says proudly, moving beside his wife. He grips her chin in one hand, turning her face to kiss her lips softly.
“That’s wonderful news!” The woman moves to the two and exchanges hugs.
“Mom, you already knew.” Aiden’s words solve the mystery for me. This must be Nancy Powell.
“Yes, but that doesn’t mean I can’t celebrate with the group.” She kisses him on the cheek and squeezes Isla’s hand. “It was hard keeping the secret.”
Aiden looks at his brothers. “She knew for a whole three days.”
A round of rumbling laughter follows.
Congratulations are passed around as the men meander over to the cooler in search of brews. Suddenly, this gathering takes on a whole new meaning. I breathe a sigh of relief knowing the attention is off me. At least for a while.
“To the newest little Powell.” Corjan holds out his beer, and the others follow suit.
My cheeks hurt as I raise my glass of white wine with the others.
“And to the safety and health of everyone.” Whitney winks.
A blush turns my cheeks scarlet. I kick her shin beneath the table, wincing as I only manage to stub my toe. She laughs behind her palm and raises her glass higher.
“I’ll get you back for that.” I hide my mutter behind the rim of my glass.
A knock rings out against the screen door.
“Now who the hell is that?” says Aiden. For a beat, nobody moves. I sense the mental headcount taking place in the span of a few breaths.
Sutton is first to move. “I’ve got it.” Plunking his beer beside me at the table, he moves to check the window beside the door. The muscles beneath his T-shirt relax as he yanks the door open.
“Thanks, son. I’d have gotten it myself, but there was this box on the front porch.” Bea enters, both arms weighed down by heavy-looking white bags. “I brought enough breakfast for everyone!”
“I’ll take that.” Silas relieves his mom of the bags. Sutton follows with the massive cardboard box from the porch in his arms.
They both begin unloading in the kitchen. The white bags yield multiple aluminum tins. One each of bacon, eggs, pancakes, and sausage. Silas adds them to the spread, turning around as he dusts off his hands.
“Dude, was there a wholesale discount I didn’t know about?”
“Nellie must really love her juice,” Spencer remarks.
Sutton shreds the plastic packaging of a forty-count pack of apple juice. “It’s not for Nellie. Alice needs it for her blood sugar.”
I turn stiffly in my chair in time to see Sutton unload two massive boxes of fruit snacks. He reaches back in, only to come away with a three-pound container of Skittles in one hand and a one-hundred-pack box of gummy bears in the other.
Wait, he’s stocking snacks for my lows?
“When did you decide to do that?” I ask, forgetting that we’re in a room full of people.
“A few days ago. Got tired of you lugging that cooler around.”
“You realize I still need the cooler for my insulin?”
He slaps the refrigerator. “Got plenty of room in here.”
My stomach feels like I just stepped off a twirly ride at the fair. Twisty and a little nauseous. The action is considerate, I’ll give him that. Dare I even say sweet? Certainly doesn’t jive with the version of Sutton I get most days, and I’m not sure what to make of it.