Beauty and the Mustache

This left Jackson with three choices: stand, sit on the floor, or leave.

He tapped me on the shoulder, told me to call him later, and left.

When Jackson shut the front door, I turned and found Drew looking me. His expression was still stoic, not quite irritated, but definitely withdrawn. Then, Drew also left—the room, not the house. He disappeared down the hall in the direction of the den, leaving me with my brothers and my friends in Chicago.

The rest of the hour passed in companionable conversation except at one point when Jethro shocked the butter off our biscuits by pulling out his own knitting work in progress. He was knitting himself a hat and using a gorgeous merino wool/alpaca blend, a homespun he must’ve picked up from a small shop or artisan spinner. It was brown and while four-ply worsted. I had to restrain my hands from yarn fondling.

My siblings and I all stared at him. He ignored us, instead asking Marie a question about her work as a freelance writer, and the conversation moved on.

Billy’s comment earlier stuck with me, about how they’d all been doing fine before I showed up again. I knew we had some words unsaid between us. Of my brothers, he was the only one who appeared to be bitter about my leaving eight years ago. At some point, he and I were going to have to talk about it.

About two hours into the Skype call, the meet-up was wrapping up, so I stood to stretch and check in on Momma, leaving my brothers with my friends to say goodbye and feeling strangely fine about it. Although, when I reflected on it, it wasn’t strange for me to feel fine about it.

The fact that my brothers and my friends got along so well would have been unthinkable to me a few months ago. But now that I actually knew them—or, at least, was starting to know them—it struck me as completely natural.

My chosen family in Chicago and my biological family in Tennessee were the same kinds of people. In fact, if I reflected on it, I’d actually surrounded myself with replacement brothers in the form of women who knit.

Fiona was Billy—logical and level headed, but hiding a sensitive side. Marie was Jethro—shrewd yet big hearted. Janie was Cletus—sweet and often oblivious. Sandra was Roscoe—a rascal. Elizabeth and Kat were the twins, with Elizabeth bolder like Beau and Kat shyer like Duane.

The personalities weren’t a perfect fit, but they were pretty close. This thought made me smile since I felt a bit like the monkey in the middle in both groups.

When I opened the door to the den, I found Drew sitting in his wooden chair writing in his leather notebook, Joe putting away the chessboard, and Cletus straightening up the room.

Momma didn’t appear to be awake, but I approached the bed just to make sure. When I did, Drew glanced up and our gazes snagged. Unsure of proper etiquette, I gave him a brief smile and looked away before I could register a change in his expression. In the best of circumstances, I wouldn’t know how to act around Drew after our kiss to end all kisses.

As it was, my Drew-distress was dialed back a bit since I was concerned that Momma was still asleep.

“Is she up?” I asked the room.

Joe came to stand next to me. “No. She’s not. I saw your note about her not eating.”

I nodded and looked her over. She was paler than usual, but that was probably because she needed to eat something. I’d washed her hair earlier in the day during the short time she was awake and had given her a bath with Marissa’s help.

I turned to Joe. “Hey, would you mind sitting with her? Just for a half hour or so? We need to have a family meeting, and I don’t want her to be alone.”

“I can stay with her,” Drew offered.

I turned my attention to him, my eyes resting on his face for more than the split seconds I’d rationed thus far. I allowed myself to experience a little burst of something—happiness? Desire? Wistfulness? I didn’t know—when our gazes locked.

“No. You need to be there,” I said.

His brow pulled low and he opened his mouth to question me, but I cut him off by saying, “I need you to be there, Drew. Please.”

He watched me, his eyes inscrutable, but he nodded his unspoken assent. I studied him as he unfolded from the chair and tucked the notebook in one of the side pockets of his pants.

“Should I be there?” Cletus asked me this while balancing several dishes, two towels, a newspaper, and a toolbox.

“Yes, Cletus, you should be there.”

“Okay, I’ll be there.” He nodded once then left the room.

“That boy….” Joe sighed.

Drew walked around my momma’s bed and stood close to me; the backs of his fingers brushing against mine, causing a rush of heat up my arm and around my neck. I glanced from where our fingers touched up to his face and found him looking at me. There was a peacefulness, a stillness about him, and it sucked me in. The room fell away.

“Hey, Ash.” His tone was quiet, gentle.

“Hey, Drew.” I shifted a step closer. I couldn’t help it.

“Did you have a good time tonight with your friends?”

“Yes. Thank you again for making that possible.”

Drew’s expression flattened as he said, “You need to stop thanking me.”

“What if I don’t want to stop?”

The hard angles of his face softened, and I witnessed something I couldn’t identify flare in his eyes. But Joe’s next statement pulled Drew and me from our heated gaze-exchange.

“That boy beat me in chess seven times.”

Joe had taken a seat in my recliner, and he actually looked like he was pouting.

“Who, Cletus?” Drew asked, his tone disbelieving.

“Yep. Cletus. I’m part of a league organized by Mensa, and I’ve never been beaten seven times in a row before. He’s a genius, I figure.”

Drew and I glanced at each other. I imagine we wore similar expressions of wonder and confusion.

Cletus a genius. I couldn’t fathom it.

My family never ceased to stun the butter off my biscuits.

***

I didn’t like having to break the news to my brothers all at once. I’d thought about pulling them each aside and telling them separately, but then that felt wrong. Who would I tell first? What if I didn’t get a chance to explain?

No. It was much better that they all be together and all hear exactly the same thing. They were gathered in the family room when Drew and I emerged from the hall. Drew continued walking when I stopped at the threshold to the room; he crossed to the couch, seemingly keeping his distance.

I was grateful that he didn’t see any reason to advertise the fact that we’d kissed. But why would he? We’d kissed once. Well, technically, if you counted the jam session at the community center and that time in the hallway after the big, fireworks kiss, we’d kissed three times. And what did it really mean, anyway?

I might have been all mixed up about it, but he didn’t seem to be much affected. I honestly didn’t know what he felt about me or the kiss or what would come next, if anything did. He was so reserved at times and so intensely expressive at other times.

Besides, what I was about to say wasn’t going to be easy or simple. I didn’t need my six brothers questioning me about my relationship with Drew, especially since I had no answers about my relationship with Drew other than that I wanted to kiss him again, often, with feeling. I suspected he felt the same way—no, I knew he felt the same way—but beyond kissing I honestly had no idea.

“Is this about that dumbass Jack? I hate that guy.” Beau sneered and took a long pull from his beer before adding, “Always douching things up.”

Beau’s insult succeeded in pulling me out of my own head. Drew came into focus and I realized that I’d been standing there staring at him for about a half minute. His eyebrows were arched in confused expectation, and he was looking at me like I might have lost my marbles in the hallway.

I cleared my throat and looked at the floor, half convinced I might find my marbles on the carpet.

“Why’d he pull you over, Duane?” This question came from Billy.

“He’s an idiot. He said my tail light was out.”

“Is your tail light out?”

“Yes. But he’s still an idiot.”

“Ash, please tell me you’re not going to have sandwiches with him?” Beau gave me a look that clearly conveyed his disapproval of Jackson James.

My eyes flickered to Drew’s and I noted that his eyebrows had descended; he was watching me with a narrowed glare.

I quickly looked away, ignoring Beau’s question, and addressed my brothers. “I didn’t call you all here to talk about Jackson. This is about Darrell Winston.”

The room went quiet; I could tell I’d surprised them. Again, my eyes darted to Drew’s. He was leaning against the arm of the couch, his arms crossed over his chest, a severe frown marring his features. This made him appear quite frightening and even more like a marauding Viking than usual.

Billy was the first to recover. “Has he contacted you? Have you seen him?”

“No. I’ll tell you what’s going on, but you all have to promise me that you’ll listen and not interrupt until I’m finished.”

A few grumbles sounded from various bearded sources, but in the end, they listened and didn’t interrupt. I told them about my conversation with Momma the night before, and I told them I’d already called our father and left a message.

*** Copyright: Novel12.Com