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“Brooks, your weekends are the hardest. Send me some dates, and we’ll plan something.”
“What about Jordyn?”
“We’ll make it happen. Hopefully, she’s living in Willow River full-time before we get this planned.”
Where she belongs.
Maverick calls out, “Cannonball,” and the conversation shifts. We spend the next hour laughing, cutting up, and taking turns on the rope swing. It’s a great night and I realize I’ve missed this. Missed my brothers, and our time, but I’m just as excited for the ladies and kids to join us.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Jordyn
As I sit here at the kitchen table, trying to force myself to eat, my heart is heavy. It’s been two weeks since I’ve seen Ryder. He was camping with his brothers and dad last weekend, and I miss him. We had plans to get together tonight, meeting at the movie theater again, but a big storm rolled through last night and knocked out the power. We, of course, have a home generator system, so it hasn’t affected us, but half of Atlanta is still without power, which means Ryder is going to be working well into the night. As a lineman, he can work crazy hours when storms wreak havoc.
So, yeah, I’m missing him, but I understand. I’m proud of him and the hard labor that he does. Ryder has busted his ass for everything he has, and he loves his job. It’s dangerous, and I worry constantly, especially on nights like last night when he was out in the mess of a storm. I slept with my phone, and he kept me updated, which made knowing he was out there in the thick of things easier to swallow.
What’s worse is that I had to leave my phone, the extra one, upstairs because I couldn’t risk my mother finding out about it. Speaking of my mother, she strolls into the kitchen and curls her lip at me.
“Really, Jordyn? I thought I told the staff to clear out all of that junk?”
The staff… does she even know their names? Probably not. Something like that is beneath her.
I shrug. “I went to the store yesterday.” Luckily, I was able to get there and back before the worst of the storm hit.
“That stuff is going to go straight to your hips. Can you at least hold off until I get you married off to a decent man at your father’s firm?”
“Nope,” I say, picking up my bowl and slurping the milk to piss her off. I don’t normally do that, to be honest, I’m not a huge fan of milk unless it’s chocolate, but I can eat it with my cereal. Drinking it from the bowl after finishing my cereal is not my jam, but from the horrified look on my mother’s face… totally worth it.
“What on earth has gotten into you?”
“This is me.” I shrug. I’m not going to pretend to be her perfect clone for one more day. I’ve been looking for jobs close to Willow River. Not that I can actually start, but I want to know what’s out there that might interest me. Fashion design is not it. I love clothes, but I know that I don’t want to be involved in designing them. Before I left for Paris, I thought I’d like to open my own boutique. Maybe, if this all works out, if I get to stay in Willow River with Ryder, I can do that. A small shop that I’d be able to bring my kids to work with me. I have to bite down on the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling at the idea.
“This is not the daughter I raised.”
“No, it’s the person I am on my own. Can you really say you raised me? I spent more time with my nanny and then holed up in my room than with you or Father.”
“That’s enough.” She raises her voice, and her face turns as red as a tomato. “I will not let you talk to me like that. You’re on thin ice, little girl.”
I ignore her. I can take her threats and hateful stares as long as they are only trained on me. I finish slurping my milk and decide to go for gold by wiping my mouth on the back of my arm.
“Use a damn napkin.” She tosses a cloth napkin at me.
“I’m all set. Thanks.” I smile at her. I can practically see the smoke coming out of her ears.
“I’m going out of town for the weekend. What will you be doing?”
I shrug. “I’ll probably call Gianna and see if she wants to hang out.”
“Fine.” Mother nods. She’s not Gianna’s biggest fan, but she doesn’t see her as a threat, either. “I’ll be home Sunday night.”
“Father?”
“I’m not his keeper, Jordyn. Your father is a busy man.”
Translation in Margaret Astor language: I don’t give a fuck where your father will be. I’m only worried about myself.
