LYING IN BED, STARING AT the ceiling, with Jose by my side—the dog and the booze—I play over the events of yesterday. Things were going so well. Deacon actually talked to me. Dani was happy, enjoying her first big Christmas. My mama was in her element. Carter was reminding us what Christmas is all about.
Then Alex showed up, and everything went in the shitter.
I swear, when I invited her, I didn’t think she’d show and even if she did, I didn’t think it would bring down the wrath of the house. But I should have. I should’ve thought it through. I should’ve anticipated that her presence wouldn’t just be unwelcome, it would be despised.
Regrets aren’t something I have in life. I do things when it feels right. I take risks, but I always try to follow my gut. But lying here, in my dark cottage, without Dani, I wonder if I made a mistake. Not just inviting Alex to Christmas, but accepting her offer period. Maybe I was being selfish. Maybe I let my dreams cloud my judgement.
It seemed like such perfect timing. Pockets had burned. Deacon and I were down to running one restaurant. Alex shows up with an offer I couldn’t refuse.
Now, I wonder if it was too good to be true.
I still believe in Lagniappe. I believe in my dreams. But maybe I should’ve waited. Maybe I should’ve given it time, listened to Deacon—helped him get Pockets back up and running—and then, together, we could’ve found a way to make a new restaurant happen.
But I couldn’t wait. Something deep down inside me had to do it alone—needed to do it alone. Maybe after all this time, I’m still a kid trying to impress his big brother.
And in the meantime, I’m losing my girl.
Jose moans at my side, nuzzling my arm. He’s eating this up, being inside the cottage instead of sleeping in the barn or up at the big house.
“I know, buddy. It’s not the same without her here.”
When I first walked down the path, he kept running back to see if Dani was following me, but she wasn’t.
I thought about calling her, but I didn’t. Cami sent me a text earlier to let me know she made it home safely, but that she just needed time.
How much time?
Tossing back the last of my drink, I slam the glass down on the nightstand, causing Jose to jerk his head up. He looks at the glass and then back at me, silently asking what the hell it did wrong.
“I’m no good at this,” I confess, rubbing his ears as he eases back down on the bed. “I should’ve known I’d fuck it all up.”
As if on cue, Jose licks my arm.
With my thoughts on Dani, letting everything from the last few months play over in my head, I begin to drift off. A knock at the door has me practically falling out of bed.
Dani.
Maybe she found a way to come back? Maybe Deacon drove her?
Flinging the door open, I feel like a balloon that someone just let the air out of as I see my dad standing there with the bottle of Crown in his hand.
“Don’t look so happy to see me.”
“Sorry,” I mutter, opening the door wider so he can come inside.
“You look like shit.”
“I feel like shit.”
“As you should,” he says, pulling out a kitchen chair, letting the legs scrape against the wood floor. “You’ll learn that when you piss them off, it’s better to stay away until the smoke clears. But you should always feel like shit about it, because it’s definitely your fault.”
I laugh, shaking my head and pulling out the chair across from him. Leaning back, I make myself comfortable, my arms behind my head.
Jose finds himself a spot under the table and my dad passes me the bottle.
“I fucked up,” I tell him, uncorking the bottle and letting the whisky burn away my sins.
“We all do from time to time.”
“I think I fucked up more than just my relationship with Dani,” I admit. “Alex is bad news. Deacon was right. I should’ve listened.”
The alcohol flowing through my veins is loosening my pride and making me vulnerable. But this is my dad. If I can tell anyone in the world what’s been hammering around in my brain, it’s him.
“Hindsight and all that,” he says, waving a hand, motioning for me to pass the bottle.
“I don’t know how to fix it.”
“Well, you’re in too deep to back out now. So, you gotta make the best of the situation.”
“You’re a good lawyer,” I tell him, swiping the bottle. “You could find a loophole and get me out of that contract.”
“I could,” he says confidently. “But I won’t.”
We have a stare off for a minute. My dad gives me his signature stare, steely eyes, the same ones he uses on people in the courtroom to make them shit their pants. But it doesn’t scare me. Okay, it might’ve put the fear of Jesus in me over the years, but now that I’m older, it garners more respect than fear.
“Okay, say I do find you a loophole. We won’t get into the fact that I’ve never let you quit anything in your life or that you’ve put too much of your hard-earned money on the line. But say, you’re strolling the streets of New Orleans in a month or two, and you come across the building you’ve put all your sweat, blood, and tears into—literally—but it’s vacant. Closed up shop. All the chairs are on top of the tables, dust collecting on that gorgeous bar you had installed. Lifeless. Nothing. How would you feel?”
I shake my head, trying to wrap my brain around the image he’s painted.
“Horrible. Sick to my stomach.”
“Right. Because even though you’re in this mess with Alex and she’s wreaking havoc, you’ve earned all of the success that’s going to come your way. This is your dream, your vision. You deserve this.”
“I guess so,” I say quietly, taking another drink of the Crown to keep the emotions from spilling over.
“I know so. You’ve lived in your brother’s shadow your whole life. Sure, you’ve made a life for yourself. And I know Pockets and Grinders are just as much yours as they are his, but Deacon started those places. He’s having so much trouble with this, because he’s not used to you going against him. Trust me, it’s bad now, but when the two of you make it through this, you’ll be stronger for it. And you will make it through.”
“I was thinking earlier, before you knocked on the door, that maybe I’m still trying to earn Deke’s respect. I want him to be proud of me, of himself, for teaching me everything I know. It’s crazy, because most people don’t see the Deacon I see. They see the goofy, easy-go-lucky Deacon. But I know the one who’s incredibly dedicated and hard-working. I’ve thought a million times over the past couple of months how I wish he was beside me. I wish I could ask his advice. I wish he could tell me what to do.”
“But he’s not. And you’re doing just fine on your own,” he says, leaning across the table, tenting his fingers under his chin like he does when he’s listening to a trial.
“I don’t know about that.”
“You are. It just looks bad today, but give it time. Trust me, everything will work itself out.”
I’m not sure how, but if my dad says to trust him, I trust him.
Rolling over in bed, I look out the window and instantly feel the residing pain in my chest. The one that’s been there since Christmas.
Eight days.
Yesterday was New Year’s Day, but completely uneventful, especially in Landry terms.
Normally, we have a big shindig, inviting half the parish. But after the excitement of Christmas, my mama opted for low-key. And by low-key, I mean, Cami and Deacon stayed home. Dani was working on a project for Piper. My parents drank wine out by the fire until they deserted me and headed upstairs for God only knows what. And I drank alone, then called it an early night with Jose tucked in by my side.
That’s how it’s been.
I called Dani the day after Christmas and she picked up on the fourth ring. She wasn’t hostile. She didn’t sound sad. She didn’t yell at me, though I wish she would’ve, because at least then I would’ve known what she was feeling. The only way I can describe her mood lately is reserved and resolved.
She says we’re fine, but I can tell we’re not.
I slept at the apartment one night, but she stayed up late in the living room working on some proofs for a shoot she did last week. When I woke up the next morning, I could tell she’d never come to bed. I can’t take it. And being the inexperienced, dumbass I am, I don’t know what to say or do, so I’ve just been giving her the space she requested.
This is just one more thing I wish I could talk to Deacon about, but he’s back to pretending I don’t exist. Our schedules for Grinders are back to resembling a revolving door—I come in, he goes out. We don’t cross paths. We hardly even leave notes for each other anymore.
And since my days are mostly spent at Lagniappe, nailing down the final menu and training the staff, I hardly see anyone. With the plantation being closer to Nola, I’ve just been stopping here and crashing.
Commotion outside forces me out of bed. Someone is moving shit around . . . or tearing something down.
“For the love of . . .” I mutter, flinging open the door. “Shit, Tucker. What the hell are you doin’?” I ask, pulling a T-shirt over my head.
He grins, closing the door on my shed outside. “I was just lookin’ for this.” He holds up a chainsaw and waggles his eyebrows.
“What are you gonna do with that?” I ask, rubbing at my eyes and wishing I’d had coffee before I had to interact with him this early in the morning. “Do you even know how to use it?”
He pushes a button and then pulls the handle, making it roar to life.
Jose comes running out the front door, barking his head off and I don’t even call him down.
“Easy, Jose. It’s just me, your ol’ buddy, Tucker.”
The traitor waltzes over to Tucker, laying down and rolling over so he can rub his belly.
“Seriously, what are you gonna do with that?”
“I just need to borrow it to cut down a few trees over at Dad’s place. His is broken.”
“He has trees he needs cut down?” I ask, trying to think of where and why.
“Nah, just a few trees he said I could cut down,” Tucker says, like it’s completely normal.
“Okay,” I drawl.
“What are you doin’ here, anyway?” he asks. “You and Dani finally fixin’ this place up and movin’ in?”
“No, I’ve just been stayin’ here on nights I work late. It’s closer.” I close the front door and sit down on the porch, enjoying the morning breeze and the unseasonably warm weather, even for Louisiana.
“And Dani is . . .” he says, wanting more information, because under that shaggy blond hair and scruffy beard he’s sporting these days, he’s a nosey old lady.
“In Baton Rouge at the apartment,” I tell him, picking at the wood on the arm of the rocking chair.
“So, she’s still pissed about Alex crashin’ Christmas?”
“Yep.” I nod, looking up the lane and wondering if my mama has a pot of coffee made yet. “I’m actually getting ready to leave and head there now. Hoping I can catch her before she’s out the door for work.”
“You’ve been stayin’ pretty busy, huh?” he asks, sitting down in the other chair.
We rock for a minute, like an old couple, and I wonder if Dani and I will ever get to that point.
“Yeah, openin’ a restaurant is no joke.”
“For sure,” he says with a nod.
“How about you?” I ask. “Have you been keepin’ busy? I haven’t seen you much. I’m surprised you haven’t hit the road again. Never seen you home this long.”
“I’m home indefinitely,” he mutters, looking off into the distance, like he’s deep in thought.
“Is everything alright with you?” I’ve been kind of worried about him for a while. And as much as he likes to meddle in other people’s business, he’s relatively tight lipped when it comes to his own.
“It’s gettin’ better.” He turns toward me and gives me a winning smile. “But this isn’t about me, this is about you. What are you gonna do to fix things with Dani?” He grows serious, completely un-Tucker like. “You can’t mess this up with her.”
“I’m tryin’ not to,” I admit.
“Don’t.”
“Okay.” I laugh, oddly encouraged by this early morning intervention.
“You won’t find another Sheridan Reed,” he says with conviction.
That’s for damn sure.