I WATCH DANI AS WE make the drive from Baton Rouge to French Settlement. She’s pensive and quiet, something that’s become the norm lately and I don’t like it.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, not being able to take the silence any longer.
“Nothing.” It’s a lie. I can see it in the way her eyebrows are drawn and how she won’t make eye contact with me.
“Bullshit.”
She sighs, her head turned toward the window, and I give her two seconds to start talking before I pull this truck over.
“I just hate that everything is so messed up right now.” Her confession is soft and hesitant, with a hint of sadness that hits me in my chest. “I was really looking forward to the holidays. This will be my first with a big family. It’s something I’ve missed over the years. And I hate that you and Deacon are still fighting.”
My chest literally aches as I try to find the right words to say. I feel like I’m constantly fixing shit these days. I want to fix this. But I don’t know how.
“I’m sorry.” I decide to start there, because I am. I hadn’t even thought about this being Dani’s first holiday with family around and, of course, it’s something she’s looked forward to. She’s been without family for so long and over the short period she’s known mine, they’ve become her own.
And fuck me if I don’t hate fighting with my brother just as much as everyone else hates it, but I’m not going to apologize for shit that’s not my fault. It’s not my fault Deacon is being an asshole. That’s all on him. As much as I want things to go back to the way they used to be, I’m not giving in to him. Besides, it’s too late, because the only way to fix it would be to not be in business with Alex, but that ship has sailed. I’m in this thing with Alex for the long haul.
Dani reaches across the seat and takes my hand in hers, rubbing her thumb against mine. “You don’t have to be sorry. I’m not trying to make you feel bad. But you asked what’s wrong and that’s it. I just want to be honest with you. I feel like something is missing, like we’ve lost . . . something.”
“What?” I ask, my heart starting to beat a little faster in my chest. I know I’m new to this whole relationship thing, and I know Dani and I haven’t seen as much of each other as we’d like to, but I thought we were doing okay.
“That might be the wrong word. I don’t know what I’m trying to say,” she huffs out in frustration.
“Just fucking say it,” I tell her, losing my composure, because lost and Dani can never go in the same sentence or breath.
“I know you have to be in New Orleans. I know the restaurant needs your attention. I know with you and Deacon not being on good terms that means you aren’t going to be at Grinders any more than you have to right now. I know all of that so, I guess this is just me missing you. That’s all. I miss all the time we got to spend together when I first moved here. Just ignore me. I’m being an over-emotional girl this morning.” She laughs lightly and wipes at moisture under her eye, but gives me a small smile from across the cab of the truck.
“Promise me we’re okay,” I plead, needing to know she’s still hanging in there with me.
“We’re okay.”
“And you’ll enjoy Thanksgiving as much as possible?” I ask, needing to lift the mood a little and get back on track before we pull in the drive at my parents’ house. “You’re gonna eat so much pumpkin pie and turkey that you’re in a food coma by the time the first football game comes on.”
She chuckles, loosening the grip she had on my hand. “Yes, I’ll eat my fair share of pumpkin pie and turkey.”
“And laugh at my dad’s lame jokes.”
“Yes.”
“And rub my belly later when I’m too full.”
“No!” She shoves me and laughs harder. “You rub your own belly.”
I glance at her out of the corner of my eye. The genuine, happy Dani is back and I sigh in relief. Lifting her hand off the seat, I kiss it.
We’re gonna be okay.
“Cami’s car,” Dani mumbles as we pull into the circle drive in front of the big house.
“Yep, I bet Carter was beggin’ to come early. He loves helpin’ Mama in the kitchen.”
“Yeah.”
We get out of the truck and head up the front steps. Walking through the front door, an abundance of aromas hit me all at once and I groan. “Fuck, I love Thanksgiving.”
“Watch your language,” my mama says as she breezes through the foyer and into the kitchen. I don’t even know where she came from, I’m guessing the garage. “Where’s Piper? I thought she was comin’ with y’all?”
“She’ll be here shortly. She rented a car and stayed at a hotel in Baton Rouge last night. She said something about needing to go Black Friday shopping.” Dani shrugs out of her jacket and hangs it on the hook in the hallway.
“Well, Cami will be happy to hear someone else is interested in that shit show.” Mama leans over for a kiss on her cheek and I give it to her, chuckling at her double standards. “Dani, sweetie, I need your help with the gravy and mashed potatoes.”
“Duty calls,” Dani says with an excited gleam in her eyes. Bouncing up on her tiptoes, she plants a kiss on my cheek and runs off to help my mama.
“Micah, go make sure your daddy doesn’t blow the place up,” mama calls over her shoulder. “He’s out back frying a turkey.”
I groan, making my way through the kitchen. If my dad’s frying a turkey, that means Deacon isn’t here. I see the small smile from Cami as she pops a pan of rolls in the oven. Leaning over, I kiss her cheek and can’t help laughing a little. “Buns in the oven,” I say gesturing to her stomach that’s still relatively flat.
“Oh, you’ve got jokes.”
“Uncle Micah,” Carter calls from the opposite side of the kitchen. He’s got an apron on and is layering up a pie crust with slices of apples. “I’m bakin’ apple pie.”
“I see that, dude. You’re doin’ an awesome job.”
He beams and continues on his way.
When I get outside, I see my dad fanning smoke from the fryer. “Need some help?”
“Nah, I got this,” he says, choking on a cloud of smoke. Then looks up at me and admits defeat. “I was hopin’ you’d be here soon. There was no way in hell I was goin’ in there and tellin’ your mama I practically burned my test turkey to bits.”
“Test turkey?” I ask, laughing as I walk over and look into the pot of boiling hot oil.
“Yeah, figured I should test it out before I commit.”
“That’s always wise.”
“Deke usually does this.”
“Yeah,” I tell him, not making eye contact. I’m not ready for the third degree from my dad. He’s stayed pretty quiet about the whole deal, always the one to let us work out our own differences. But I know he’s chomping at the bit to say something. “Well, I think I see your problem,” I tell him, avoiding the elephant in the room, so to speak. “Your heat is up way too high. I’m surprised this baby didn’t blow.”
I turn the temperature down to a suitable level and we wait to get a good read on the thermometer before dropping in the real bird.
“Where is he, anyway?” I finally ask, not being able to stand it any longer. There’s no way in hell Deacon will miss Thanksgiving. That fucker lives for food.
My dad takes a sip of his beer before answering. “Cami said he’s sulking like a big baby.” He laughs, shaking his head. “Her words, not mine.”
“What does that mean? He’s not comin’?” I ask incredulously. “That’s suicide. He knows that, right? Mama will kill him.”
“Yep,” he says with a nod and tips his bottle back, emptying the contents.
“Surely, he’ll show.”
“How long’s this thing between y’all gonna go on? You know if your feud interrupts Christmas, heads will roll.” He says each of those last words with precision. “Your mama ain’t playin’ when it comes to Jesus’ birthday.”
“I know.”
“Fix it,” he says with a curt nod.
“I’ll try,” I tell him, making no promises, because I’m sticking to my guns on this one. I’m not in the wrong. Deacon is. So, I won’t be groveling or apologizing.
My dad’s hand comes down on my shoulder and I brace myself for some sort of life lecture or advice, but about that same time arguing erupts from the side of the house. We both pause, looking at each other.
“Tucker?” my dad asks, quirking his head to try to hear the hushed yelling.
I frown in confusion, wondering who the hell he could be fighting with this early in the day. And on Thanksgiving to boot. Then a female voice becomes more distinct and I wonder no more.
“That fucker,” I mutter, handing a pair of tongs to my dad as I stomp my way around the side of the house. “Can you two not get along for one day? Shit, y’all haven’t seen each other in months. What the hell do you have to argue about already?”
Both of their heads snap up in surprise and something else, panic? I don’t know. I don’t get them. They’re polar opposites. But also the same in weird ways, like being overly protective of people they’re close to and their shitty taste in music. From the get go, they’ve been like oil and water . . . better yet, hydrogen and oxygen. They’re some atomic bomb bullshit.
Piper glares at Tucker, smoothing her hair over her shoulder.
The differences are even more glaring—her perfectly coiffed dark hair and his shaggy blonde; her prim and proper attire and his I’m in a band and don’t give a fuck look; her professional career and his go where the four winds take him lifestyle.
“Your best friend,” Piper sneers, brushing past me, delivering the line like it’s an insult.
Tucker chuckles, pulling his hair back into a ponytail to get it off his face. I watch him as he watches her, shaking his head in disbelief.
“What am I missing here?” I ask, feeling truly confused.
“Piper and the stick up her ass.”
“Fuck you, Tucker,” she hisses, stomping up the stairs of the porch.
“You better not let Mama A hear you say that,” he teases. But I agree with him, nodding my head, because I’ve already been busted for that today.
She growls her displeasure before walking through the front door.
“What was that all about?” I ask, turning to Tucker, pointing over my shoulder.
He puts on a face of indifference and shrugs his shoulders. “Fuck if I know, man. Women.”
I squint my eyes at him, trying to see through the bullshit, but I don’t know what I’m looking for. I have no idea what’s going on with Tucker. He’s been acting weird since he got home.
We go about the rest of the afternoon without incident. My dad and I successfully fry the turkey without burning anything down and we dispose of the charred carcass of the test turkey so he doesn’t have to hear shit from anybody.
My mama, Dani, and Cami take over in the kitchen, whipping up the best looking side dishes I’ve ever seen. Carter is super proud of his apple pie. Mama helped him cut out a “C” for the center. He’s trying to claim it for himself, but I got news for the kid, at least a slice of that is going in my belly. Tucker and Piper manage to not kill each other but that didn’t keep them from exchanging death glares every time they crossed paths.
After Clay and Kay show up, we all start taking our seats at the long table. It’s dressed to the nines and full of the best food this side of the Mississippi. The only thing missing is Deacon. His seat between Cami and Kay is empty. I can’t help looking around to see if anyone’s going to say anything. Kay gives Cami a questioning look, but not a word is said. Not coming to a family dinner is one thing, but not showing up to a holiday is a federal offense. Strangely, everyone else goes about their business like nothing’s amiss.
When we’re all in our places, Mama stretches out her hand and I take it, offering mine to Dani, and so on, until we’re all holding hands, ready to say grace. Just as everyone bows their heads, the front door opens and we hear footsteps in the foyer. There’s only one person it could be, but nobody says a word. A few seconds later, Deacon slides into his spot by Cami. I chance a glance up at him, but he doesn’t look over at me. He just takes Cami’s hand and kisses her cheek.
My mama doesn’t miss a beat as she begins to say grace, thanking God for all of her blessings. She makes sure to mention all of her children being in attendance, which is Deacon’s notice that he better be glad he showed up.