15. Chaos
CHAOS
“So wait.” Drie laughed. “Let me get this straight. Your cousins’ names are Sawyer, Connor, Thatcher, Ranger, Archer, Cooper, Walker, Parker, and Trapper?”
Fisher nodded. “And Shepherd.”
“Shepherd doesn’t end with an R, though.”
“Yeah.” He grimaced, flicking on the blinker as they turned down a side street into a quiet little neighborhood with thick sycamores casting shade over the road. “It’s a whole thing.”
Drie snorted. “Please, do tell.”
He sighed, shooting her an amused side glance as he parked in front of a simple one-story house with a yard full of kid toys and a sidewalk so covered in chalk that the base grey was no longer visible.
Fisher unbuckled and twisted, stretching an arm to grip the back of her seat as he explained.
“My Uncle Don, the oldest of my father’s brothers, had his kids first. Shepherd, and then Sawyer.
Connor and I were born two years after Sawyer.
Brea, too, of course, but she’s not relevant to this story.
Anyways, so with us three—Sawyer, Connor, and Fisher—you can imagine the jokes.
But what’s funny is that it wasn’t intentional.
Until Uncle Terry’s wife got pregnant and he lost a bet with four-year-old Sawyer, so Sawyer got to name the kid. ”
“No.” Drie slapped a hand over her mouth.
“Yes. Aunt Marlee was pissed because baby Sawyer was obsessed with The Fox and the Hound. He wanted to name the baby Copper, but Auntie put her foot down, and they settled on Cooper, though everybody pretends to forget that fact. Then Uncle Simon’s son was born a few weeks later, and he wanted in on the joke, so he named his kid Thatcher.
And I guess, by that point, the convention just stuck. ”
Despite her best efforts, she couldn’t quite smother the smile that threatened to rise. “You sound like a bunch of medieval blue-collar townsfolk.”
“Hey now, save the roasts for when you get inside. Besides, I doubt you’ll be able to think of anything we haven’t already heard.”
“Now that sounds like a challenge,” she said as she stepped from the car, turning to look at him over the front hood.
“Do your worst.”
“She already is, hanging around with the likes of you,” a woman’s voice called out. Drie turned, brows raised as a fun-sized, feminine version of Fisher approached, zig-zagging around the abandoned slide and trike and bowling set littering the freshly-mowed grass.
“You must be Brea,” she said, holding out a hand to shake. “I’m—”
“Drie Raven. Yes, I’ve finally been caught up,” Brea sighed, throwing a stink eye in Fisher’s direction before she took the proffered hand and shook it firmly.
But when she let go, she twisted on the spot, throwing an arm over Drie’s shoulders as she guided her up onto the porch, leaving him to trail behind them.
Drie was surprised to find that once they passed under the shaded awning of the porch, there was a group of five teenage boys sitting around a rectangular glass table.
All but one had a variation of the popular swoopy bangs.
The one closest to the wall—the youngest-looking one of the group—had his hair trimmed nearly to his scalp.
“Archie, Walker, Ranger, Parker, Trap, say hello to Drie, Fisher’s girlfriend.”
“We’re just—”
“She’s not—”
Drie and Fisher exchanged a glance as their voices overlapped, but before either could clarify, the kid with the buzzcut spoke up. “If you’re not dating anyone, I’m available.” He finished the offer with an exaggerated wink.
“Pipe down, Ranger. She’s not looking for jail bait,” Brea said, making the others “Ooooooh” in response.
“I’m legal.” The one closest to the edge of the table shrugged, his blue eyes striking beneath his mop of dark curls. He flashed her a crooked smile.
Brea dunked her fingers in the nearest drink and flicked the liquid in the boy’s face. “Down, Cujo.”
“On that note, how about I take you inside?” Fisher said, guiding her away from the porch as the boys continued arguing with Brea.
“Teenagers,” he said, shaking his head as if the two of them weren’t just twenty-one themselves.
They passed through the house, and he murmured the names of everyone they spotted, pausing occasionally to introduce her to a new cousin or aunt or extended relative.
It was never-ending, just a perpetual stream of people—primarily male—with the same shade of silver-blue eyes and loud, cheerful voices.
“Is this Drie?” a voice cried out from across the room as they passed through the living space, causing a hush to befall the crowd. Which was no small feat for a room filled with seats that had been reduced to standing-room only.
“Oh, hell,” Fisher moaned, freezing in place. Drie giggled as she watched him plaster on a fake smile before turning, angling his body in front of hers. “Hey, Aunt Kris, how are you?”
Drie felt her mouth twisting in a smile despite her efforts to suppress it.
Krazy Kris. Fisher had warned her plenty about that woman during the drive.
Particularly about how she enjoyed picking fights that made no sense and then talking her opponent in circles until she managed to break their will.
“Out of my way, child. I want to see her.”
“I was looking for Mom…”
“She’s out back with Ted. Now scoot so I can meet your little lady.”
“I was taking her with me—”
“Fisher Bree, I know you ain’t hiding that girl from me!”
“Best move, kid,” a man called from the La-Z-Boy chair across the room, watching the scene play out beneath the brim of his trucker hat.
“Thanks, Uncle Mark,” Fisher grumbled as he stepped to the side, flashing Drie an apologetic grimace.
“Oh, well, aren’t you just pretty as a peach?” Kris crooned, fluttering her hands around Drie’s face.
She huffed a laugh, smiling up at the woman with the flushed cheeks and artfully styled bob. “Thank you, ma’am.”
“Oh, and sweet as can be to boot. You gotta hang on to this one,” she said, smacking an arm against Fisher, who threw his hands in the air.
“Kinda hard when everybody keeps stealing her away.”
“Sounds like you gotta be quicker,” Drie teased, causing Kris to cackle loudly.
“Oh, my stars! You’re like whiskey in a teacup. C’mon. Let me introduce you to his Mama,” she said, pulling her from the room. “She’s just gonna love you.”
Drie shook her head ruefully, smiling back at Fisher as she allowed herself to be dragged along, though…
her eyes snagged on one person she didn’t recognize across the room, sitting on the far end of the couch.
A young woman with long, almost pitch-black hair and bold red lipstick.
She hadn’t been in the latest family picture he had shown her before they’d driven down, Drie would’ve remembered.
Maybe she’s a new girlfriend of one of the cousins?
It struck her as odd, however, how the woman kept her eyes trained so closely on Fisher over the rim of the beer cooler in her hand.
Especially considering the tall, ferocious-looking man in a five-piece suit glaring daggers at the girl from where he stood in the shadows, leaning against the hall doorframe.
He’d not been in the picture either. Who are these people?
But then she was walking through a glass door, and there was a whole new crowd before her. How big is his family? Drie thought as she eyed the size of the group scattered throughout the yard and pool.
It was the couple standing by the grill, however, that Kris dragged her toward.
“Linda, Linda!” Kris huffed, pulling to a stop by the little lady with pale brown eyes and shoulder-length auburn hair. “You gotta meet—”
“Drie,” Linda supplied, smiling warmly as she stepped forward and folded her into a hug. “It is so lovely to finally meet you. Here”—she nudged them toward a bench seat along the edge of the patio—“let’s sit.”
“Hi, Mom,” Fisher called out, his tone dry as he remained standing aimlessly by the back door.
“Hi, dear.” Linda fluttered a hand in the direction of the man by the grill.
“Go help your father. We’ve got a lot of ground to cover with your…
friend.” She smiled cheerily again, wide enough to make dimples pop in her cheeks, though Drie felt a touch of apprehension as she found herself being settled securely between the two tiny, boisterous women.
“So, Drie Raven…I was told that you were born up near East Valley. Is that right?”
“Uh…yes?” She blinked, wondering where the line of questioning was possibly going as she watched Fisher lift a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose.
“Great start.” Linda nodded encouragingly. “Then what happened?”
Drie leaned forward over the sink, doing a quick check of her makeup in the bathroom mirror. She’d been sitting outside in the humid autumn weather, being quizzed on her life story by a steadily growing crowd of Fisher’s family for nearly two hours.
Her lips twisted into a smile at the thought.
She’d loved every second of it.
She had been hesitant at first, but those women put her at ease in a matter of seconds with their easy humor and direct questions. They wanted information, and they were hell-bent on getting it.
Fisher tried to rescue her multiple times, even staging a dramatic fall into the pool at one point that made her giggle, and all the women surrounding her snickered.
But by that point, even a few of the uncles had pulled up chairs to listen in on her interrogation, and there was little hope of rescue to be found.
Every time she thought it was over, they would open a new line of questioning. It was exhausting. And it was heartwarming, how interested they were. It made Drie wonder, more than once, what Fisher must’ve been telling them about her.
But every time she tried to remind them that they weren’t technically dating, his mother would just brush it aside.
“Meh, neither are me and Ted.”
Drie had frowned. “Isn’t Ted your husband?”
“Semantics.”