Chapter 2 #2
A pang of sadness hits me for the time I’ve missed with my nieces. They’re growing up without me, and all the presents and quality time in the world can’t make up for the milestones I’ve missed. My schedule is hectic. The sporadic visits, video calls, and text messages aren’t enough for me anymore.
“It’s good to have all of my babies back together.” Mama reaches out a hand to both Wilder and I, squeezing gently.
I give her a soft smile and stand. “I’ll get the dishes.”
Rylin glances at me hopefully. “Can I help, Auntie Ruby?”
“Sure, you can! Do you want to dry while I wash?”
“Yes!” She pumps her fist in the air and follows me into the house, where I set her on the kitchen counter with a dish towel. We have a dishwasher, but something about doing it by hand is soothing. It gives me time to think.
We settle into an easy routine, washing and drying in tandem—except for the sharper objects, which I set in a drying rack away from tiny hands. I hum a new melody as the hot water soaks into my skin.
“That’s pretty.” Mama takes a set of salad tongs from Rylin and helps her off the counter. “Is it new?”
“Just something I’ve been playing around with.” I drain the sink, drying my hands off on a dish towel.
She cups my cheek and kisses my forehead. “I’m glad you’re home, my girl.”
“Me too.” I stifle a yawn. “Think I’m gonna call it an early night.”
“Your old room is all made up for you. We’d give you the guest cabin, but there’s a plumbing problem and we haven’t gotten around to fixing it yet.”
“That’s fine. I don’t need much. See you in the morning?”
“You best believe Daddy’s going to want you up and at ‘em bright and early, so get your beauty sleep, Ruby girl. You’ve got farm chores.”
Fucking farm chores.
I thought I’d be collecting eggs, maybe feeding the pigs, but apparently it’s Torture Ruby Day and I’m in the barn with my brothers mucking out stalls.
“If only your fans could see you now, knee deep in a pile of shit with a smear of something questionable on your forehead,” Griffin says, grinning.
“Shut up. I do not have shit on my face.”
“‘Fraid so, baby sis.” Jaxon props his elbows on the half wall between the stalls, his tattooed forearms hanging over the side.
Wilder strides in from the tack room with a set of ropes in hand, his eyebrow raised. “She hasn’t even been home for a full day, and you’re already being assholes? Knock it off.”
“That’s why you’re my favorite brother,” I say. “You two”—I point two fingers back and forth between Jax and Griff— “can choke on a dick.”
“Do we have to share one? I’m not into sloppy seconds,” Griffin replies.
Wilder pulls me in for a side hug. “Still happy to be home?”
I roll my eyes. “Starting to question my decisions. Wanna make it up to me?”
A deep chuckle rumbles from his chest. It’s good to see him laughing and smiling again. “What did you have in mind?”
I give him my best puppy dog eyes. “Girl time with my nieces.”
“I think that can be arranged.”
I cock my head at the other two, plastering on an exaggerated smile. “See. Favorite.”
“Auntie Ruby!” Emmy squeals, rushing into my arms as soon as I walk through the door of my brother’s farmhouse.
“Emmy girl! Where are Mama and Gracie?”
She scrunches up her nose and points down the hallway. “Sissy’s got a stinky butt.”
My shoulders shake with unrestrained laughter. “Got it. Then we should definitely avoid them, huh? Let’s hide.”
Emmy bounces on her feet and grasps my hand, tugging me behind the recliner in the corner of the living room. “This is where me and Uncle Jaxy likes to scare Daddy.”
I tap her nose and smile. “Shhh. I think I hear them coming.”
“Emmy?” Liv calls. “Where’d you go? No more stinky diapers, you can come back now.”
Emmy lets out a soft giggle.
“Hmmm. Gracie girl, I can't find your sissy. Where do you think she went?”
My youngest niece coos in response, not yet able to speak at barely eight months old. I can tell Liv’s figured us out, but Emmy’s oblivious, and her eyes widen as footsteps grow closer.
“Emmy. Where are you?” Liv singsongs.
“Ready?” I whisper. “On three, we jump out. One… two… three.”
“Boo!” Emmy yells as we emerge from our hiding spot in tandem.
Liv stumbles back, clutching Gracie against her chest with a feigned look of abject terror on her face.
“We got her good, Em.” I offer my hand for a high five.
Emmy dissolves into a fit of giggles on the floor, and I wink at Liv.
Liv raises her eyebrows at me. “Suppose you’re here for some more Gracie cuddles?”
“Girl time, but you know I never turn down the chance to love on my Gracie girl. Give her here.”
I sink onto the oversized grey sectional with the baby on my lap, bouncing her on my knees.
Liv takes a seat beside me and sighs.
“Rough day?” I ask.
“Long night. Gracie’s teething again, and I slept like shit.”
“Bad word, Mama,” Emmy says. “You gotsta put money in the jar.”
I snort. “Whose idea was the swear jar?”
“Ugh. Me. And the little snitch never fails to call me out on my bullsh—poop.”
I laugh. “Nice save. Emmy’s gonna have a fat college fund with my brothers around.”
“Silver linings,” she says.
Gracie yawns, and I lay her against my shoulder, sliding a hand up and down her back. “It’s crazy how much she looks like Wilder.”
“Tell me about it. Seems unfair that I did all that work just to pop out his doppelganger after nine months of sharing my body with another person.”
“At least she has your eyes.”
Her lips tip into a tired smile. “Yeah, at least there’s that.”
There’s a lull in conversation as I soak up every bit of cuddle time I can get.
The last leg of my tour really took it out of me, and it’s nice to slow down and enjoy time with my family.
Emmy climbs onto the couch between us with a blanket and a stuffed cow, laying her head in Liv’s lap and her feet in mine.
Witnessing the bond between Liv and Emmy makes my heart give a little squeeze. Liv isn’t Emmy’s biological mom—her mom passed away when Emmy was only six months old. I never thought I’d see the day when Wilder would open his heart again, but he couldn’t have found a more perfect match.
Liv unties Emmy’s braids and runs her fingers through her hair, coaxing her eyes closed. It’s not long before both of my nieces are fast asleep.
“So… wanna talk about it?” Liv asks, keeping her voice low.
The ‘it’ in question is, of course, the drama with my label. I’ve kept off social media since the news broke. The last thing I need is a barrage of bullshit coming at me from all sides.
It’s my turn to sigh. “Not much to say, honestly. I’m happy to be out. Ready to spend some time at home and reset. Write music that feeds my soul.” The words seem hollow, almost rehearsed. Maybe I’m lying to myself. Maybe there’s more to it than that, but I’m too tired to dwell.
Liv reaches over and squeezes my hand. “As long as you’re happy, that’s what matters. Everything else is just background noise. And for what it’s worth, we’re glad you’re back.”
“Me too. It’s nice to be with people who actually give a shit about me.” I press my nose to Gracie’s head, inhaling her lavender lotion. “I hate how much I miss when I’m away. Emmy and Gracie have changed so much since my last visit.”
She looks down at Emmy with a sad smile. “I feel like it’s flying by already. Gracie’s almost nine months old, and Emmy just turned four. It’s all happening so fast. I wish I could stop time for a little while.”
“Something tells me you could use a drink. Come on, I’ll help you get them to bed, then we can have a glass of wine and fill up the swear jar.”
“Oh, heck yes!’
“There’s a song here, I can feel it. We could call it Wine Drunk on a Wednesday Night.
” I tip up my glass and finish the rest of my white zin—the pink kind that comes from a box, obviously.
“Except, does it really come from a box? Because there’s a bag in the box.
So why do we call it boxed wine? Shouldn’t it be bagged wine? ”
Olivia snorts, the last of her wine sloshing in her glass. “Do you know you just said all of that out loud?”
I shrug. “Dunno. I need another drink.”
“I think you’ve had enough.” The deep timbre of my brother’s voice comes from somewhere behind me. They lock eyes over my head, and Olivia’s face turns from amusement to desire.
That’s all she wrote for girls’ night.
“Yep. I think that’s my cue to leave. Try not to get her pregnant again. I like girls’ night.” I raise my empty glass in a toast. “Toast. Hehe. I’m toast-ed.”
“It appears her internal monologue is external right now,” Olivia says. “She should probably stay the night.”
“Wait, why aren’t you drunk?” I ask, eyeing her suspiciously.
“I’m still on my first glass. You”—she pokes my nose— “had the rest of the box.”
“Bag. I had the rest of the bag,” I singsong the last words, drawing out the final note into an off-key run.
“Right,” Wilder says. “Let me get you a pillow and some blankets. You can take the couch tonight.”
Liv plucks the empty glass from my hand and sets it down on the coffee table. Wilder comes back and they work together to tuck me in on the couch.
A half-hearted giggle escapes. “You’re such a dad.” I glance up at my brother from my prone position. “Gonna read me a bedtime story and kiss my forehead before you go?”
He shakes his head, and Olivia crouches and does just that. “Get some sleep,” she says.
“Thanks, Mom,” I murmur in what I hope is a mocking tone.
“Say goodnight, Ruby,” Wilder says.
“Goodnight, Ruby,” I echo the words back in a sleepy voice.
Olivia laughs. When she stands, Wilder instantly pulls her into his arms, kissing her thoroughly. “Where do you think you’re going, Pretty Girl?”
They’re so in love, it’s disgusting. What’s that like? I’ll probably never find out. Even if I could find someone to date, my heart already has another name scrawled across it in permanent ink. Signed, sealed, delivered.