The unusual necklace and bracelets he’s wearing really bring it all together. The necklace is probably hemp, and a small, dark, polished-wood box with rounded edges hangs from it. I stole a closer look when I was gluing his cut together. It’s so interesting. I’ve never seen anything like it.
His bracelets are similar to the paracord style I’ve seen plenty of times, but his are different. First, they’re made with the much smaller 95 paracord, not the usual 550, and the weaves are tight, with metal objects woven in between the braids. Everything about him is so interesting.
The overall look works, but I’d love to clean it up. That could be fun. When he’s not looking, maybe I’ll try to get a few pics. That way I can play around with some ideas if I ever want to. Making something other than dresses would be a nice change. Besides that, some pics could come in handy for future bubble baths.
CHAPTER 11
Riggs
“Hey, it’s not funny. Elsie is no joke.”
I check my watch. I can’t believe we’ve been talking for an hour now. It seems like we just sat down. And where the hell is my brother?
She was just making fun of me for being afraid of my baby sister. I can’t remember ever enjoying myself this much with a woman, and all we’re doing is laughing and joking with each other. Our waitress cleared our table a while ago, so I’ve been ordering dumb stuff, like chili-cheese fries and sampler platters, as an excuse to make this last a little longer. What’s the harm in that?
“It’s kind of funny,” she says with a smirk. Then she throws herself back in her chair with a deep sigh. “I have two older brothers who don’t care what I think about anything.” Suddenly she shoots forward and leans in with a serious look in her eyes. “What makes you and Ash so afraid of her?”
I love how animated she is. Twirling a carrot stick in a cup of ranch dressing from yet another appetizerplatter, I’m wondering what to order next. I could do this all day. “Where to begin?” I say meeting her gaze. “Don’t get me wrong—we love her to death. Everything we’re able to do is because of her so she deserves our respect… and our gratitude.”
“Yeah, but you don’t just respect her. You’re afraid of her.” Her eyes fall to my biceps. “How is that possible?”
“I guess you’d have to meet her. She may be small, but there’s a thousand-pound Kodiak bear inside that tiny frame, and you don’t want it coming out.”
She takes a carrot stick, dips it in the ranch dressing and plops it in her mouth considering what I just said. “Like on the phone call yesterday?”
I bite back a laugh. “That was nothing. You should see what happens when the mama bear comes out. Best to find a safe place to hide.”
“I like her already. She sounds like a real badass.”
She likes her already? For a minute there, I was worried I was making Elsie sound like a real bitch. Interesting that Blondie would see her as a badass. I wonder if her interest in my sister has something to do with her own family. “You say your brothers don’t respect you?”
“Hmph! They don’t respect themselves, let alone me.”
“How often do you see them?”
She rolls her eyes like she just bit into a lemon. “Every day. We live together.”
That surprises me. “You live with your brothers?”
“Yeah. We still live at home with my parents. I’m only there to take care of my mother. I moved back when she was diagnosed with breast cancer.”
Her gaze drops and I can tell we’re venturing into delicate territory. I give her some space as she takes anothercarrot from the platter and stirs it mindlessly in the dressing as if lost in thought.
The revelation that her mother has cancer hits home. “I’m sorry about your mom. My mother had cancer too.” It used to be too painful to talk about, but it’s gotten easier with time.
Her back stiffens as her gaze burrows into me. “What kind?”
I don’t want to tell her, not when her mother is still fighting it. She looks so hopeful, and I think I may have made a mistake when I said my motherhadcancer. She probably thinks my mom was a survivor. I remember what it was like to grasp for anything that could give you hope, but what happened with our mother won’t give anyone hope. “Um… it was also breast cancer.”
“And she’s… Did she…”
Man, I hate to tell her. I shouldn’t have brought it up. “She…”
“Oh,” she exhales with slumped shoulders. “I’m sorry. How long ago?”
I see the sadness in her eyes, and it brings back so many memories. “Three years. We still miss her, but it does get easier with time.” I search for something, anything that might give her comfort. “But she was stage four when they found it, so she had a lot going against her. Other women make full recoveries all the—”
“My mom has stage four.” She turns toward the tall windows that showcase the impressive mountain landscape. Around us, daily life continues with the sounds of dinnerware clanking somewhere in the kitchen, people talking, and servers taking orders. After a moment she turns back. “But she’s going to make it, I know it.” Her tone doesn’t carry the confidence herwords were meant to convey, which means she’s not sure of anything.
