Chapter 14
Taking the girls to the ranch.
Left you a little something extra
in your lunch. Let me know
what you think!
The note in my hand is wrinkled from how hard I’m gripping it. I came home for lunch, like always, and was disappointed to find the apartment empty. Thought that since it’s fall break for the kids, they might be around.
It’s only Harper I was looking forward to seeing. Not Mia. I’m not obsessively watching the clock hoping to catch her smile. Naw, just want to see my kid happily playing with the kid of the woman I’m tipping into madness over.
I’m starving and have punished myself enough with self-loathing over my pathetic need to see her. My lunch is in the same spot as always, where Mia leaves it for me. I’m both expectant and surprised every time I find it waiting for me.
The fact that she left me something extra has my stomach flipping—from hunger, not from the extra care she put in for me—and salivating, because her cooking is addicting. I’ve never eaten so good in my life, and my jeans are letting me know it.
Today she’s plated leftover pot roast, fingerling potatoes, and carrots. The meat fell apart in the perfect way, tender as all get out, the root vegetables perfectly tender, seasoned like a best-selling restaurant dish.
But that’s not what’s got my attention. Beside the pot roast is a small container staring at me. I pop the plate into the microwave and stand at the counter with her crinkled note, fingers itching to open the surprise container.
There’s no way…it’s November. How did she pull this off?
Filled to the brim is peach cobbler.
Peach season ended two months ago, and I’ve been mourning the loss of her creations. I’ve always loved peach cobbler, but her love of peaches is next level.
She’s spoiled us with peach pie, turnovers, upside-down cake, smoothies, and parfaits.
The girls have delighted in the peach ice cream, popsicles, and jam.
Despite being a Colorado native, I’ve never been inclined to try peach salsa, but dear god. I could eat my weight in chips and Mia’s peach salsa. Hell, she made a peach barbeque sauce we slathered on grilled chicken I’d fight someone over.
She joked that by the end of peach season, we’d be sick and tired of the stone fruit, but I’m looking forward to next August when the Palisade peaches come back around to see what she comes up with.
Mia canned several mason jars of peach jam and salsa, but cobbler? Clever thing must’ve canned halved peaches too.
As soon as the microwave beeps with the pot roast, I pop the cobbler in for thirty seconds, painstakingly waiting as the timer counts down second by second.
My fork digs into the cobbler because I’m a grown man; if I want dessert first, I’m gonna eat dessert first.
Nirvana. No exaggeration.
Her husband’s a damn fool for treating her like anything less than the angel she is. Does he have any idea the kind of woman he fumbled?
No matter. He’ll get what’s coming to him in due time. I’ll make sure of it.
“Are you sure this is okay?” Mia hesitates at the bottom of the porch stairs at the main house at Lucky Spurs Ranch.
“Am I sure what’s okay?”
“Us being here for the family Thanksgiving…”
This, again. She’s been fretting all week, letting someone else do the shopping, prep, cooking, serving, and cleaning for turkey day.
She said if they celebrated growing up, it was something pre-made from the deli. The piece of shit she married wanted a full spread, and from the sound of it, nothing she ever did was good enough.
I don’t like admitting we talked behind her back, but the whole crew agreed she deserves a break and should celebrate as part of the family.
Cecelia extended the invitation in person, hoping to assure Mia the gesture was genuine, and not a pity invite. We all want her and Everly with us. Some of us more than others.
“Yes, I’m sure.” I try to keep my tone soft, because grumbling like I normally do will negate what I’m trying to express.
“Mama, can we pleeeeease go in?” Everly tugs on Mia’s hand, jerking one side of her body up the porch steps.
We follow Everly in without knocking like she owns the place. Suppose she does as much as Harper does. Cecelia and Walter don’t have any biological grandchildren and have adopted the girls as their own.
For as long as Mia stays, Everly will never want for anything.
The house is bustling with activity. I like my peace and quiet, but there’s nothing as comforting as being at the ranch. I spent as much time here as possible growing up, even more so after Dad died.
Meredith lost herself in her grief, which I wouldn’t blame her for, had she not neglected me. She may have lost her husband, but I lost my dad and had to start raising myself.
It’s like one day she woke up from her mourning-fog and became a different woman. Meredith wanted a second chance at life and happiness, it just happened to exclude her fucking son. She remarried within a year of Dad’s passing.
Jack Dalton isn’t a bad man, it’s not his fault Meredith wanted nothing to do with her “first” life anymore, or anything associated with my dad. She was relentlessly vocal about her disapproval of the family “information business.”
She couldn’t give up on the hardware store faster.
Thankfully, it’s been held in an irrevocable trust for generations, so a distant relative kept the store running until I turned fourteen when I could legally work.
I took over far more than a young teen should’ve, but it was my dad’s legacy and was my responsibility to keep it alive.
On my eighteenth birthday, I took over Clark’s Hardware, moved into the upstairs apartment, and have made every effort to never see Meredith again.
The only good thing to come from Meredith’s choices is Olivia.
I was horrified when Meredith got pregnant after marrying Jack.
I sulked and raged all nine months. But when that little red-haired baby was placed in my arms, I was a goner.
I love my little sister, and I knew even then I’d protect her with my life.
“You doing okay?” James asks, coming to stand beside me as I stare aimlessly out the front windows.
“Yep.”
“You know, your chattiness is my favorite thing about you,” he teases.
I don’t give him the satisfaction of responding.
“Where’s, uh, Liv?”
“Celebrating with her family.”
I don’t claim them as my mom and stepdad. They aren’t my family. My family is comprised of Harper, Olivia, the Andersen clan, and now Mia and Everly.
He nods repeatedly. I know why he’s asking, and I don’t like it one bit.
My best friend and my little sister have always been close; she tagged along with us as soon as she could walk and talk. He’s always been like a second older brother to her, Reid and Sam too. She had four guardians and protectors—now three without Sam.
Olivia had a silly crush on James as a teenager, but every young person has inappropriate crushes every now and then.
I’d hoped she’d grow out of it when she left for college.
She didn’t.
Every time I turn around, she’s hanging off him, or they’re laughing, standing too close, or romping around like children.
I have to chalk it up to him being the class-clown, life of the party, playful kind of guy he’s always been—and my sister being relentless or trying to kill me from stress. Either option is quintessential Olivia.
If I allow my mind to wander to the alternative, I devolve into a murderous rage. There’s no way James would ever cross the line and do that to me.
“Yea, wasn’t asking for any particular reason, just used to seeing her around.” James claps his hands in front of him. “Where’s your nanny?”
Fucker.
“Harper’s nanny is here with her kid, and they’ve probably been abducted by the other women, and we won’t see them until dinner.”
“Maybe I’ll go find her and give her some adult attention. Mom can handle the girls.”
The fuck he will.
“Cool your jets, Clark.” James chuckles; my face must be giving off murderer vibes.
“Who’s all here?” I change the subject.
“Mom and Dad, Reid and Iz, your crew, and me.” My brows drop.
“That’s it? Where’s the Hayes family?” Connor, his wife Delilah, and his sister Quincy are eternally woven into the Andersen family, the same way Harper and I are.
“Delilah and Connor are teaming up with Quincy to cook a small Thanksgiving for their parents.”
Living on the ranch, James knows far more about the goings-on than I do. He’s also a dirty gossip and a wealth of information.
Nora and Elliott are Quincy and Connor’s parents.
Elliott’s essentially homebound due to his medical condition.
Alzheimer’s disease is a cruel mistress.
Nora cares for him full-time. Until last year they came to holiday dinners at the ranch, but the frequency dwindled to where they don’t attend at all.
“That’s really great of them. Should be less stressful for Elliott—a quiet family Thanksgiving.”
“Yea, nothing like the chaos here, right?” James adds.
The kitchen is bustling, joyous chatter bounces off the wall, and tinkling laughter comes from deeper in the house from my daughter and her new best friend.
“Dinner’s ready!” Reid hollers to me and James through the house.
“Did you wear your turkey pants?” James asks, elbowing me in the gut.
“Shut the hell up.”
Because yes, I did.
“That was amazing, Cecelia. Thank you so much for inviting us,” Mia says sweetly. Her pure gratitude tugs on my heart, having received so few kindnesses in her life.
Reid and Izzy are tangled in a heap on a chair only big enough for one person, all loved up like newlyweds should be.
“Sweetheart, I keep tryin’ to tell you, you’re family. Now, can I send y’all home with some to-go plates?” Cecelia offers, the queen of feeding her kids.
“That’s not necess—” Mia starts to decline, but I cut her off.
“Yes, please, ma’am. You know I’ll never turn down your cookin’. I’m counting on stuffing my face with leftovers for at least two days.” I pat my stomach.
My abs are covered by a layer of…leftovers—I’ve got a dad-bod, and it’s only filled out since Mia started feeding me.
“Oh sweetheart, your bag’s already good to go.”
Everyone laughs, knowing damn well what a sucker I am for her cooking. Maybe I have mommy issues, considering mine stopped raising me when I was a child. I’m eternally grateful to Cecelia and Walter for taking me in.
Cecelia points a look at Mia, repeating her question with those motherly eyes.
“Everly loved your rolls, and I couldn’t say no to a small smattering of everything,” Mia admits sheepishly, and Cecelia’s tickled pink getting to mama-bird two more ducklings.
She shuffles off to build another to-go plate as the front door opens, blowing cold autumn air into the family room.
“Oh, good! You’re still here!” Delilah heads straight for Mia, arms open and ready to embrace her.
Mia flinches from the hug, imperceptible to most, but not to me. I know Mia’s body language, every facial expression and tone of voice. I dig my fingernails into my palms to stop from pulling Delilah off her, but she lets Mia go.
“Did we miss dessert?” Connor asks.
“Yep,” Reid calls from behind a curtain of Izzy’s hair.
“Damnit,” Connor says under his breath.
“I saved a piece of everything for you to share,” Izzy says from her place on Reid’s lap.
“Yes!” Connor pumps his fist and makes a bee line for the kitchen.
The kids have grown tired of the boring adult conversation and have taken to a giggly game of hide-and-seek. I’m so thankful Mia and Everly wandered into our lives. I’ve never seen my daughter happier.
“How was dinner?” Delilah asks.
“It was good, better than last year,” I reply.
I know what she’s asking. She’s not asking how the food was, she’s asking how the family held up on Sam’s favorite holiday, without him.
“More laughter than tears, more memories shared,” I say.
I look to Mia, who’s gotta be missing her sister today, but hasn’t said a word.
“How about at the Hayes’s?” Izzy asks from across the room, softly rubbing her husband’s back. Reid and James have taken to examining specks of dust in the air, and shadows on the walls, shoulders bowing heavy from the weight of their grief.
Delilah sighs heavily, sadness painting her face.
“It was okay. Elliott ate well, but went to bed early, and Nora never came back out to sit with us. Quincy doesn’t look good.
She’s struggling, but I don’t know how to help her.
Connor says all we can do is be there if she ever wants to lean on us.
She left when we did, and I could tell she was trying to hide her tears from us.
I can’t fathom how difficult it must be for her to celebrate today without him. ”
Surprising us all, Mia moves to comfort Delilah, taking her hand and interlacing their fingers.
“Grief isn’t logical. It isn’t linear or predictable. Some days it weighs so heavy on your chest you can’t breathe. Other days it floats like a fog in the back of your mind,” Mia says softly, every set of eyes trained on her.
“I lost my sister”—Mia looks between Reid and James, giving them each a tight smile—“and it took a lot of years before I felt semi-normal celebrating holidays and life events without her. You’re all very lucky to have each other.”
Her voice grows tight holding back her emotions. She releases Delilah and turns into me, a breath away from my chest, whispering, “Can we please leave?”
I’m gathering kids, food, and belongings the second after she asks. I never want Mia to be uncomfortable. Somehow, I’ve made it my job to take care of her, and I take my job dead serious.
Hugs are exchanged in a circle with some repeats. Just as we’re loading into my truck, Delilah pulls Mia to the side. I don’t mean to eavesdrop—that’s a lie, I need to know anything to do with Mia.
“The offer still stands, okay?” Delilah whispers. Mia nods away from her and buckles herself in the truck, closing the door on the night air.
The girls are out cold as soon as the truck rumbles down the dirt road. Mia and I sit in silence for a mile or two before I can’t take it anymore.
“What offer was Delilah talking about?” I ask.
Mia’s cheeks color. I can see the flush even in the dimly lit truck cab.
“Equine therapy,” is all she says, and I don’t pry. People seek help when they’re ready to be helped.
Maybe someday, she’ll come to me when she needs help. And I’ll be there to give her anything she needs.