Chapter 4
Addison
I’m standing on the dock, looking out over the pond.
Wesley, Chase, and I have been fishing for the last few hours.
I spent the morning making tomato sauce with my mom.
We canned about sixty jars, and next weekend we’ll probably do sixty more, depending on how well our garden continues to grow this week.
“What time is it?” Wesley asks, slowly reeling in his line.
I check my phone. “Almost three.” I’m glad he asked, I didn’t think we’d been here that long. I need to be at Blake and Sierra’s by four thirty to babysit.
“It’s been so hot this week,” Chase says, standing on the bank, casting his line out again.
“It has,” Wesley agrees. “It’s funny though because Blake doesn’t think so. He said summers in Georgia are ninety degrees with 100 percent humidity this time of year.”
“I can’t even imagine that,” I say.
Chase shakes his head. “Yeah, when we went to Florida a few years ago it was too hot for me…and we went in May.”
Wes sets his rod down at his feet. “I’m definitely not one for hot weather.” He pulls his shirt over his head and tosses it down onto the dock beside his phone. I should’ve worn a bikini top. A black T-shirt was not the way to go today.
I flash my mischievous eyes at Chase. He starts smiling and shaking his head, already knowing exactly what I’m going to do. I set my rod down, and when Wesley bends down to pick his up, I push him in.
“Careful!” I yell as I watch him splash into the water headfirst, having no time to react.
Chase and I laugh hysterically, and Wesley resurfaces just a second later.
“Addison!” he scolds, wiping the water off his face and pushing his hair back. He splashes water up at me with a playful grin. “You’re done!” he warns, pointing a finger and chuckling.
“I got you, Wes,” Chase says.
I turn around to find him running towards me. “No! No!” I yell. “Do not!” I hold my hand out to try and stop him.
“Don’t, Chase. Don’t,” Wesley insists just before Chase is able to get ahold of me.
Chase holds his hands up in surrender and backs away. “Fine. I tried,” he mutters.
Wesley swims his way over to the bank and gets out of the water. “See.” He huffs, looking at me. “I’m actually nice.” He’s dripping wet, running his hand through the damp tendrils of his hair. He reaches his arms out and comes closer to me. “Come give me a hug now.”
“No.” I laugh and move away. It strikes me that he might actually pick me up and throw me in. It wouldn’t be the first time.
“Why?” he teases. My heart beating faster, I continue to walk backwards. “Come on,” he says with a laugh, insisting.
“Wesley, stop,” I warn, keeping my eyes on Chase too, but he doesn’t seem to be a threat. I look back to Wes. “I’m serious, I have to babysit. I don’t want to have to shower.”
He stops and rolls his eyes. “Oh fine. You win.” He groans.
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.” He breathes a quick laugh and turns back to the dock.
He strips out of his wet jeans, exposing his blue plaid boxers to Chase and me before picking his rod back up.
He turns to see I haven’t moved and chuckles. “Addie, I’m not gonna throw you in. Promise.”
His voice sounds genuine, so I walk back over.
“You’re better than me,” Chase starts. “I’d have thrown you in whether you liked it or not.”
I tilt my head at him. “That’s why I didn’t push you.”
“One of these days I’ll get her,” Wesley teases, and I squint at him. His cheeks become fuller with a playful smile and he nudges me with his elbow.
“So, where’s Brantley?” Chase randomly asks as he cracks open another beer from the cooler he brought.
Wesley and I don’t drink, we’re not even twenty-one, not that I think it would change anything. I hope not at least. I think the taste of beer is disgusting. He doesn’t think it’s that bad but doesn’t necessarily desire to have it.
Being drunk scares me, even though I’ve never actually experienced it.
Being around drunk people makes me anxious too—mostly because I can’t handle vomit.
If someone drinks too much, I’ll start worrying they’ll get sick.
Which will automatically trigger my anxiety, which means I feel sick.
So, it’s basically just this vicious cycle.
Chase doesn’t get out of hand or anything, so he doesn’t bother me.
He’ll have his two beers and be fine. Wesley’s one other friend, Cole, on the other hand…
no. I want no part of him. He thinks getting drunk is fun.
Thankfully, Wesley has sorta set a boundary with him.
He didn’t want to be around it either, but if I’m being honest, I think I had more to do with it.
He knows if Cole’s around I won’t even come close, and I think Wesley values our friendship over Cole’s.
“Brantley’s getting ready for the rodeo,” I tell him.
He sips his beer and sets it down. “Nice. Is it a weekend thing or…?”
“He just rides Saturday.”
“Gotcha.” He clears his throat. “You going?” he asks.
“Yeah. Mason offered to take me.”
“Good. Where is it?”
“Like three hours away.” I groan with an eye roll.
Wesley interjects, “I didn’t know it was that far.”
I sigh. “Yeah, well, I’ll be okay with Mason.” I shrug like it’s not a big deal, but it kinda is.
Car rides are not my friend. Sometimes I get nauseous, which feeds my anxiety. But then sometimes I get anxious first, which feeds into nausea. It’s just a whole thing that I can’t ever seem to win, so I just pray the Dramamine does its thing and I’ll be able to keep my food down.
* * *
“I made plenty of chicken tetrazzini, so please don’t be shy,” Sierra says, gathering her purse while Blake’s pulling on his boots.
“Sorry in advance if he throws anything at your head. He thinks everything classifies as a baseball now,” Blake tells me.
I laugh. “Uh-oh.”
Sierra rolls her eyes. “Yeah, you can thank Blake for that.”
Caden’s a year and a half now and growing like a weed.
His features have stayed the same since he was just a baby though.
With Sierra’s blonde hair, and Blake’s green eyes, he’s the cutest little man.
Smart too. He’s starting to talk more and more.
He finally started saying my name. Though “Addie” is pretty similar to “Daddy,” I still take pride in it.
Blake and Sierra head out while Caden and I wave from the window.
Sierra already had everything for dinner set out for us. She’s on it. I aspire to be the mom she is one day.
The whole house is always clean and put together. Aside from toys, of course, and sometimes a few dishes in the sink, she keeps up with it all.
After we eat, I spend a good ten minutes cleaning the high chair. Caden’s got food all over the place. Even the wall.
The sound of a tractor rumbles from outside. Caden’s little feet patter across the floor, and I turn to see him drop his toy and run to the front window. Babbling “tractor” over and over again as he bangs on the window.
“Is there a tractor? Who’s on the tractor?” I ask him.
“Essie,” he says.
“Wesley? Yeah, Wesley’s working.” I walk over and pick him up so he can see better. He continues banging on the window as we watch Wes back the tractor into the barn. “Should we go say hi?”
“Yeah!” he screeches with a determined nod.
I head to the door, slip on my shoes, then slide Caden’s feet into his little Crocs. He reaches for my hand before I even get the door open and we step out.
As we approach the barn, I hear Wesley mutter a curse to himself and a metal tool hits the concrete floor. Maybe now isn’t a good time to bother him, but it’s a little too late to turn around. Caden’s going to rip my fingers off if I don’t start walking faster.
“Wes! Ready or not, little ears are coming through!” I announce, crossing the threshold. He looks over his shoulder at us, his face of frustration lightening almost instantly.
“There’s my buddy.” Wes stands and wipes his hands on his jeans before walking over. Kneeling in front of Caden, he says, “Are you being good for Addie?”
Gosh, I don’t care what anyone says, a man talking to a little kid like this will always be so attractive. Even if it’s my best friend. The way he got down on his level to see his little face…instant swoon.
Caden lets go of my hand and snatches Wesley’s sunglasses from his head, only pulling a little of his hair in the process.
“On,” he babbles, shoving them back in his face.
“You wanna wear them?” Wes asks, and Caden nods.
I watch him carefully put them on for him, making sure he doesn’t poke him in the eyes. Caden’s big smile lights up the entire room, easily painting one on Wesley’s face as well.
We watch him toddle off into the barn, sunglasses and all. He looks up at the lights and stops to see himself in the reflection of the chrome truck bumper.
Wesley stands back up. “How long you watching him for?”
“Like, two hours. They just went for dinner.”
Wesley nods and we watch Caden walk around the barn like he owns the place. His curious hands touch everything along the way, his cute little voice chattering away to himself.
* * *
As I stack my pillows behind me in bed, I settle back against them and feel my body decompress.
“You look tired, babe,” Brantley says over the phone. He adjusts the screen in his hand and lies back in his bed. He’s not wrong. I did a lot more than I usually care to fill my schedule with, but it was all a lot of fun.
Brantley and I usually Facetime once a week, sometimes more often, it just depends. He lives forty-five minutes away, and given it’s the summer, he’s pretty busy with rodeos.
“I was up early,” I remind him, fighting a yawn from escaping. “I barely had my eyes open before Mom had me help can tomato sauce.”
He laughs. “That and you played mom to Caden for a few hours.”
“That too.” I smile. “Sometime I want you to come with.”
His brows knit. “Why?”
“Because I’ve never seen you with a baby,” I say, like it’s obvious.
“So?”
“So? I want to.” Like I said earlier, men with babies is very attractive to me, and if Brantley is my future, I want a sneak peek.
“I’m not very good with them.” He laughs.
“What do you mean?”
“They scare me.”
“Brantley.” I cock my head. What does he mean he’s scared of babies? They’re babies, they’re cute and fun. Total opposite of scary.
“They’re just…little. And they don’t talk,” he says as an explanation.
“Caden talks. He says all kinds of things.”
“But you can’t understand it.”
“I can.”
He just shrugs and adjusts himself on the bed, like he wants to end the conversation.
“Do you want kids?” I ask.
“Not for a while,” he sputters.
“But eventually?”
“Yeah.” He sighs. But it doesn’t come across very promising. Like maybe he’s just saying that to keep me from prying?
“I’ll see you this weekend, right?” he says, changing the subject.
“Mm-hmm,” I hum. I’m not looking forward to it, but I don’t want him to know that.
“Good. I’ll be there early, so come whenever. Text me when you get there and I’ll come out and find you. If I can.”
“I will. Mason’s coming with.”
“Good. Maybe you can find him a girlfriend.”
“That’s my plan,” I joke.
Mason’s never had a girlfriend, but it’s by choice. He’s just wired differently; he’s not into flings or wasting anyone’s time. He’s the kind of guy who wants to meet someone and know immediately that she’s the one for him. No games, no “let’s see where this goes.” He’s always been like that.
Mason’s unique in that he’s the perfect mix of Cody’s and Jesse’s personalities .
He’s got a little of Cody’s cockiness and a little of Jesse’s stoic and mysterious side.
He’s solid though. He shows up. He’ll listen when you’re falling apart, tell you what you need to hear, and do whatever he has to do to fix the problem.
He’s not flashy about it, but you’ll always know he’s in your corner, and honestly, that’s probably one of the best qualities someone could have.
When I see it’s almost 11 p.m., I tell Brantley I have to get some sleep or I’ll have a headache tomorrow.
He tells me he loves me and hopes I sleep well before hanging up.
The silence of my room settles over me, the peace and calm I couldn’t wait for.
I close my eyes and drift off to sleep in seconds.