Chapter 31
YOU’RE ABOUT TWO WORDS AWAY FROM NEEDIN’ AN ESCORT BACK TO YOUR CAR!
Scottie
The air outside shifts so fast it feels like we’re trapped in a bubble.
One minute I’m full body laughing with Tucker, and the next my breath catches like I just ran into a wall. The paint roller goes heavy in my hand while the smile dies on my lips.
Because standing a foot away from me are my parents.
What the hell are they doing here?
“Well…” my mom says with displeasure in her voice. “This is…interesting.”
Her eyes scan me up and down, noting my paint stained overalls.
She’s seen them before, but there’s definitely more on them now that we’re nearly done with the house.
Then she looks at the paint on my skin before she looks at Tucker, speckled with teal paint.
My stomach drops, and a thousand versions of myself filter through my brain.
Me in high school, fighting to be perfect.
Me in college, overachieving on something I didn’t want until I couldn’t breathe.
Me on camera, smiling until my cheeks hurt.
Me on FaceTime mid-project, trying not to look exhausted to avoid a lecture.
And now…me standing here on the porch laughing too loud—too freely with two large cameras pointed at me with teal paint on my cheeks.
“Are we interrupting something?” she continues, because I’m stunned silent.
I feel my body stiffen, and I still don’t know what to say. I feel as if the cameras are actually zooming in on me without even moving. The crew is quiet, waiting and holding their breath.
“No,” I manage to get out with a wide smile.
My mom takes off her sunglasses, tucking them into her purse before turning to take in the house. I literally hold my breath. I stand here, trying to hide the fact that my fingers are trembling because I already hear it coming.
“I thought you would do more with it,” she says.
And there it is.
I clear my throat, knowing the producers are not cutting this. “The possibilities were endless. I could have gone a dozen different routes with the project. Ultimately, I wanted to preserve what was. I wanted to keep the bones of the house alive and make it shine again.”
“Shine again?” she asks.
My eyes fly to my dad who’s looking anywhere but at the two of us. Does my mom not know what he told me about this place? I wish he never hung up on me that day I called him so I can understand any of this—understand what she knows and what I don’t.
I look back at my mom and nod, feeling like I’m going to throw up. “The house was very weathered and needed some serious work, but not everything was a complete gut job. We were able to maintain everything I wanted.”
“And this is what you wanted?” She scoffs, extending an arm toward the house. “I thought you were supposed to be proving this isn’t just a hobby. You wanted people to take you seriously. This…this is just a sentimental fixer-upper instead of something professional.”
The words hit like a slap to the face.
Not because they’re true, but because the house looks incredible now. I love the things we’ve done with it because it was my vision and my project.
“But,” she draws out, turning to face me again. “I can see why you chose to do the bare minimum.” She looks from Tucker to me and leans in. “You were too busy goofing around instead of working.”
I don’t dare look at Tucker.
I have never felt so embarrassed, and I don’t need to see the look in his eyes.
My familiar reflex kicks in. I straighten my spine, smile properly, and nod my head. The performance is muscle memory at this point, but the moment I snap it in place, I feel Tucker’s hand on the small of my back.
I still don’t look at him, but I know what he’s silently telling me.
I know he’s telling me that I’m stronger than this.
“Scottie, you look…” my dad starts, sympathy on his face because I know he hates when my mom is this way.
“Tired. Exhausted. Definitely not put together,” she rattles off.
“That’s enough, Laura,” my dad says under his breath, so hopefully the cameras won’t hear.
Tucker shifts behind me, and I feel him inhale like he’s holding back and trying not to jump in. His hand presses more firmly on my back, and I know he’s urging me to stand up for myself. Just his presence is enough to feel strong enough to do it.
My dad extends a hand to Tucker, a warm smile on his face. “Hi. I’m Billy. And you must be…”
“Tucker,” he answers flatly, returning his greeting before his hand is back on my back.
“It’s nice to meet you. I’m guessing by the tool belt you helped?”
Tucker nods. “I did, but she did most of the work.”
“He’s the head contractor. And…” I pause, looking from my mom to my dad. “He’s important to me.”
My mother’s expression freezes.
My dad just smiles.
“But you aren’t staying here,” my mom says like it’s a fact when she never even asked me. “And you need to think about how this”—she gestures between Tucker and I—“will look on the show. Everyone is going to be watching.”
Something inside me snaps like a cord that’s been fraying for years and on its last string.
Fuck this.
Just as I open my mouth to speak, the sound of an angry golf cart comes barreling down the driveway. I say angry because it sounds like the engine is on its last leg. One putt away from exploding.
And driving it like a banshee is Nan.
She skids to a stop, a grin on her face, before she reaches into the row behind her and pulls out a giant pot filled with assorted flowers.
She stumbles over to us, barely able to hold it herself.
“I brought you something to fix the vibes of the porch.” She drops it to the ground with a thud, dusting her hands before taking in her surroundings. “This feels like a situation.”
Tucker laughs from behind me but tries to hide it.
“Thank you so much for the flowers, Nan. You can bring them to the porch if you’d like,” I say, trying to remove her from this conversation to avoid any more embarrassment.
She eyes my mom for a moment before nodding in my direction. “You got it,” she says before walking away with the potted flower.
“She hasn’t changed a bit.” My dad laughs, shaking his head.
“No, but your daughter has,” Mom huffs.
I take a step closer to my mom, which forces me out of Tucker’s grounding hand.
I angle myself so that it looks as if we’re just two people looking at the house.
I smile, leaning to my side just enough so I can keep my voice low.
This time I don’t bother covering the mic with my hand. “You were right.”
“Usually I am. But entertain me.”
“I do need to think about how this looks. Because it looks like I’ve spent my entire life trying to earn your approval.
” I face her completely now, cameras be damned.
“It looks like I’ve been smiling through exhaustion and swallowing my feelings and performing perfection because I thought that was the only way to be loved. ”
“Scottlyn,” she whispers, her eyes wide.
“I’m not done.”
“Scottie, maybe when the cameras—” Dad starts.
I shake my head, cutting him off. “This is exactly the right time.” My chest is heaving as the truth pours out before I can stop it.
“I’m so damn tired of being the version of myself you can brag about.
I’m tired of building a life that looks perfect but feels empty.
” My words grow louder with every one that slips free.
“I’m so damn tired of chasing validation that always moves the second I get close.
I’m done doing what you want me to do because it’s never going to be enough! ”
My mom looks offended. “I’ve only ever wanted what’s best for you.”
“No. You want what looks best for you,” I nearly shout.
I feel something settle in me as the sentence spills from my mouth.
Almost like the calm after a storm. My parents don’t say anything back.
My mom looks hurt by the truth, while my dad is torn between being proud of me for standing up for myself, and sticking by her.
But either way, they both look at me like they don’t recognize the person standing in front of them.
And maybe they don’t.
Because I don’t recognize her either.
But I fucking like her.
“I heard raised voices behind me and assumed someone was trying to ruin a perfectly good day,” Nan says, coming to stand between us.
“Nan,” Tucker says. “Not your fight.”
Nan looks to him. “If it’s in Bluestone Lakes and involves people I care about, you bet your ass it’s my fight.”
She turns to face my mom, scanning her up and down.
“Nan, it’s okay,” I say, placing a hand on her shoulder.
My mom faces my dad. “Now I remember why we stopped coming here. This town makes mediocrity feel like magic.”
Nan straightens slowly, rolling her shoulders back. “Careful,” she says evenly. “You’re about two words away from needin’ an escort back to your car.”
“Nan,” Tucker warns.
My mom huffs in response. “Oh, please. All I’m saying is I didn’t want my daughter growing up thinking this was enough.”
“Enough?” Nan repeats. “Millie’s house wasn’t enough?”
Mom shrugs. “She should have sold this after Pop died. She refused to, and then refused help. The house was falling apart, and I wasn’t going to keep dragging Scottlyn back and forth to a house like that.”
My stomach twists.
Nan’s jaw hardens. “Lies.”
“Nan,” Tucker warns again, with more growl to his voice as if trying to force her to but out. But I hold a hand out in front of him, needing to hear what she’s about to say.
Nan steps forward, pointing a finger in my mom’s chest. “You’re the reason Scottie never came back here.
It’s not because of the house falling apart.
It’s because you couldn’t stand how free Millie lived her life.
” I hold my breath and Nan doesn’t hold back.
She pokes her again. “You never failed to judge her for the way she acted around Scottie. Allowing her to be a kid and playin’ in the dirt.
How she would run around the fields laughing and dancing. You hated it.”