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Jackson arranges for the bags to be loaded in our car as I soak up the warm rays.
“Ready?” he asks after the car has been packed to the brim with all my things.
I never know what I’m going to be in the mood to wear on a trip, so I tend to overpack, something Jackson once again commented on when he saw the number of bags I brought.
“As I’ll ever be.” Time to pull up my big girl panties and go see my parents.
As we drive through the charming streets of downtown Charleston, flashes of my childhood and teenage years run through my mind. Seeing all the little shops and restaurants nestled around beautiful oak trees brings back memories of being in high school with my sister and going to lunch after a day of shopping or getting our hair and nails done. It may sound like we were spoiled little Southern debutantes, which is partly true, but it’s more than that. We had a close relationship and driving through our old stomping grounds is making me nostalgic for our once easy camaraderie.
Jackson puts his hand over mine as he drives us through the streets. “You’re going to make your palms bleed if you squeeze your fists any tighter, Red.”
Huh, I didn’t realize I was doing that. I relax my clenched fist and give him a small smile in thanks then take in a deep breath, letting it out slowly through my mouth.
“I’m more nervous than I thought I’d be. Being here reminds me so much of my old life, you know?”
He puts his hand back on the steering wheel. “Have you been back much since moving to Philadelphia?”
“I only come back once a year if I can help it. I like to visit my dad. He was never a huge fan of my relationship with Davis, but he kind of lets my mom rule the roost. Since she wanted us back together so bad in the beginning, he went along with her. I don’t think he had a hand in trying to get us back together, but he never stopped my mom from inserting herself into my life. My sister and I don’t really talk anymore. She sided with my mom and the Callaways after our breakup. That betrayal was more than I could handle, so I left.”
Jackson squints his eyes, and I practically hear the question on the tip of his tongue. “I never asked, what happened to your best friend? The one you caught with the asshole.”
I laugh and shake my head. “Raelynn, that was her name, ended up marrying the asshole about a year later. She thought she had it made. Snagged herself a Callaway from right under my nose. Joke’s on her, though. From what I hear, Davis was more interested in spending their money at some seedy strip club than paying his bills. When the house went into foreclosure, his dad had to bail them out. Raelynn realized they didn’t have any of their own money. Apparently, lap dances are expensive, and whatever else Davis was spending their money on. She left him and moved back home, disgraced and broke. I’m sure she’s figured out how to bounce back and destroy another relationship by now.” I shrug my shoulders and look out the window, thanking God once again that wasn’t my fate.
Jackson whistles out a breath. “Jesus, Red. Your people picker sure was busted back then.”
I look at him with a smirk on my face. “You think it’s gotten better since?”
He gives me an incredulous look and pretends to clutch his pearls. In a heavy Southern accent, he drawls, “Are you trying to insinuate that I’m no better than those two assholes? Why, I never!” His mock accent really is something.
“Keep your panties on, Hayes. I was joking. I absolutely lucked out when I met Kasey and Lindsey.” I laugh as he reaches over and squeezes my thigh hard, making me jump away from his grip.
“Stop, you’re driving. No horseplay in the car.” The more I try to squirm away from his grip, the more he tickles the inside of my thigh.
“Take it back, Barnes. Admit it. I’m the best thing to happen to you since moving to Philly, and you know it.”
“Fine, fine, I’ll admit it,” I finally cry out breathlessly.
He nods his head in victory and puts his hand back on the wheel.
“You’re not theworstthing that’s ever happened to me.“ Giving him a wide smile, I catch his side-eye glare.
“You’ll pay for that,” he growls out.
Oh jeez, the sinful places my mind goes with that declaration.
Pulling up to my parents’ house on the tree-lined street just outside of Charleston isn’t quite the same experience as seeing the Hayes estate for the first time, but it’s nothing to turn your nose at. My mother is not a fan of less is more, but Southern geniality dictates that she not overtly flaunt their wealth. The perfectly manicured green lawn and thriving flower garden along the walkway and house demonstrates the care she takes in her gardening. Or rather, the care she pays people to take. The house itself is a large white two-story built sometime in the 1800s. From the outside looking in, you would never imagine the chaos that once resided here when my sister and I were younger. Teenage screaming matches, sneaking in after curfew, and I think there was even an incident involving too many wine coolers and my mother’s hydrangeas. But looking at it now, all I see is a house I used to consider a home, but only to those willing to toe the line.
After Jackson parks in the circular driveway, we make our way to the door, and I knock.
“You knock at your childhood home?” What he doesn’t realize is even though his family grew up wealthy with nannies and household staff, there was still love and room to make mistakes and all the shit kids do, without worrying about what people at the country club would think. Not every wealthy family was like that. Mine included.
I give him a tight smile with nerves causing a riot in my gut. “It’s not my house.”
My mother is not one to appreciate people walking into her home unannounced, even her daughter.
The door swings open, and there stands my mother, Loretta Barnes, Loli for short, but I think the only person that has ever dared to refer to her as that other than my grandparents is my father. And if memory serves, he only did so a handful of times and never in public.
A smile stretches across her face, but it’s tight, and for Jackson’s benefit, I’m sure.
