Mischief & Magnolias (Magnolia Branch Book 2)

by Kristi Cook

  “Sure,” I say with a nod. “Is Tanner coming?” My cousin is jackass, but I’ve missed him. I’ve missed them all.

  “Yup, Tanner, Mason, Ben. I assume that means Rosie’s coming, too. Oh, and Ryder, of course.” Lucy winks at me. “In case you were wondering.”

  “I wasn’t,” I say, then sigh. “I guess he’s probably waiting for me to apologize.”

  Lucy pulls a face. “Wait, you’re going to apologize because he got his panties in a twist over some guy posting pictures of you?”

  “Let me see the picture in question,” Morgan says, sitting up and reaching for my phone.

  I snatch it back from her. “Okay, hold on. Let me find it.” It only takes me a few taps to open Stefan’s page, and there it is—me grinning up from what looks like Stefan’s lap as he ties my shoe.

  “Well….” Morgan fiddles with the hem of her sleeve. “I mean, it does look awfully cozy. How would you feel if the situation were reversed—you saw a picture of some girl sitting on Ryder’s lap?”

  I hold up a finger. “First off, I was not sitting on his lap. I know it looks like I am, but I promise I’m not. Well, not exactly. And secondly…well, isn’t that enough?”

  Morgan gives me a pointed look. “You’d be mad. Especially if the girl sent you a friend request right after posting it.”

  “Maybe,” I mutter.

  “It’s not like you two are married,” Lucy argues—the exact same phrasing that Ryder had used the day before. “You’re free to sit in whoever’s lap you want. I say you wait for him to apologize.”

  “Hey, do you ever check his page?” Morgan asks, scooting closer to me.

  I look at her with raised brows. “No. I try not to stalk.”

  “Seriously, you never check his page? Not even occasionally? Here, give that to me.” Morgan snatches my phone out of my hands and starts typing in the search bar. “There it is—Ryder Marsden, student at Columbia University. Not much here, just a post from yesterday—some girl named Madeleine saying the news about his shoulder sucks, it’s too bad he won’t be able to play next year, and she hopes he has a great Christmas.” She looks up at me with a questioning look.

  My heart accelerates, my breath coming faster now. He told some girl—someone named Madeleine who I’ve never even met—that he can’t play next year? Something he only told me two days ago. What the hell?

  “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have read his page,” Morgan says, clearly noticing my stricken look. She closes the window and hands me back my phone. “That was so stupid of me.”

  “No, it’s a—a public page,” I stammer. “You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s not…it’s just…” I trail off, shaking my head. “It’s just that they don’t think he’ll be able to play next fall. Actually, he might be done for good.” I mean, hell—if this girl is posting about it on his page, I guess it’s okay for me to tell my friends. Our friends.

  “Seriously?” Lucy says. “I had no idea. I thought it was getting better.”

  “Yeah, that’s awful,” Morgan adds, but I’m barely listening. “What’s he going to do?”

  I reach for my phone and open a text to Ryder.

  Who’s Madeleine? I type and hit send. Immediately, I regret it. I sound jealous and needy.

  He answers almost immediately. Madeleine who?

  Check your Facebook page, I reply. No point in backpedaling now.

  Oh, that’s Maddy, he answers. From my physics study group.

  I wait for more, but there’s nothing—no explanation beyond that. Nothing that would explain why he would have told her something so personal before telling me.

  “Hey, Earth to Jemma!” Lucy pokes me in the arm. “What’s going on?”

  I shake my head. “Nothing. Sorry. Y’all want to go get something to eat? My mom made a ton of Christmas cookies last night.”

  Lucy hops off the bed, making it swing precariously. “Hey, I won’t say no to cookies. Did she make divinity, too?”

  “Um, this is my mom we’re talking about. Of course she did.” I reach for my phone, but then decide to leave it. If Ryder has anything more to say, I’m not in the mood to hear it.

  “Let’s go,” Morgan says, already halfway to the door. Sulu jumps off the bed and darts past her, meowing loudly.

  “Last one out’s a loser,” Lucy shouts, racing past Morgan who squeals loudly, bracing herself against the doorjamb.

  Nothing like hanging with these two to make me feel ten again, I realize, shaking my head.

  Which is definitely a good thing, right about now. I head toward the kitchen with a smile, happy to leave my worries behind.

  Chapter 6

  Ryder spots me the minute I step inside Ward’s. His head snaps up and our eyes meet across the crowded restaurant, but he immediately averts his gaze. My cheeks heat, and I’m not even sure why. I’ve lost track—at this point, who’s mad at whom? Then I remember the whole, “Oh, that’s just Maddy” thing, and suddenly I’m angry again.

  “Jemma!” Ben calls out, and soon I’m surrounded by the guys—Ben, Mason, Tanner. Ryder hangs back, fiddling with the napkin dispenser. I hug them all. “Oh, my God, I’ve missed y’all so much!” I say.

  “I can’t believe you two didn’t come home for Thanksgiving,” Mason says, squeezing me tightly. “So lame.”

  “Sorry,” I say with a shrug. Our parents came up to New York, instead. Somehow they managed to squeeze in two Broadway shows, four museums, the New York City Ballet’s Nutcracker, and the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade, all in five days’ time. Plus, the shopping. So much shopping. And not just my mom and Laura Grace—my dad had never been inside an REI before, and let’s just say he found his new heaven on earth.

  “You look great,” Ben offers cheerfully.

  I look him over from head to toe. “You, too. I swear, you’re taller than you were the last time I saw you.”

  He shrugs. “Maybe.”

  I glance around the restaurant. “Where’s Rosie?”

  Ben’s cheeks pinken. “She left to go to her grandparents’ house this morning. Said to tell you ‘hi’.”

  “Well, ‘hi’ back,” I say. I’m actually kind of disappointed that she’s not here.

  “Where’d Ryder go?” Tanner asks, seemingly oblivious to the fact that he and I are keeping our distance from each other. Everyone else, it seems, has been clued in. I have no idea what Ryder told them—it doesn’t matter, really.

  “He’s…um…getting a drink, I think,” Ben says. “Are you girls gonna order something?”

  Ten minutes later, we all crowd around two tables that have been pushed together—Ryder at one end, me at the other—eating fries and burgers. It’s impossible not to be distracted by him, sitting directly across from me, watching me when he thinks I’m not looking. But it’s so nice, all of us back together again, that I can’t help but smile as I drag a French fry through ketchup and pop it into my mouth. I don’t even notice Ryder get up until he’s standing right behind me.

  “Can I talk to you for a second, Jemma? Outside?”

  “Somebody’s in trouble,” Mason says in a singsong voice—a movie reference, maybe, that I just can’t place.

  “Oooh!” Tanner taunts, looking way too pleased. “Fight, fight.”

  Lucy punches his arm. “Shut up, douchebag.”

  “Do we have to do this right now?” I ask, looking up at Ryder with a scowl.

  He folds his arms across his chest. “I think now’s as good a time as any.”

  “Ugh, fine.” I scrape my chair back, rising to follow him out. Ever After. The movie reference hits me as I’m walking out to the parking lot. Which is weird, because, well…it’s Mason, who does not strike me as an Ever After type. I’m still puzzling this out as Ryder stops at his Durango and leans against it. I take a few steps toward him, naturally drawn into his arms, but then I stop short, remembering that we’re in a fight—or something like that.

  “So, how long are we going to do this?” he asks, peering do
wn at me with drawn brows.

  “I don’t know, you tell me. And while you’re at it, you can tell me why some random girl in your physics class heard about your shoulder before I did.”

  He shakes his head. “She’s not some random girl.”

  “Oh, really? Please, tell me more,” I snap. “This just keeps getting better and better.” I turn on my heel, ready to flounce back to the restaurant.

  Ryder reaches for my arm and pulls me back toward him. “I didn’t mean it like that, Jemma. She’s in my study group—there’s about six of us, and we meet in the library twice a week.”

  “And?” I prompt, because that doesn’t explain jack shit.

  “And I’d just left the doctor’s office after hearing the news—they flat-out told me I’d probably never play again. Just imagine how messed up I was, Jemma. I didn’t have time to go back to the dorm before study group, so I headed straight to the library. I was a little early and Maddy was the only one there and she was just trying to make polite conversation, and…” He trails off, raking a hand through his hair. “And, I don’t know, I just wanted to tell someone, I guess. Someone who didn’t matter, who wouldn’t be affected by the news. So she said ‘are you okay?’ and I told her the truth—that I was feeling pretty shitty and sorry for myself. And that’s it, the extent of our relationship.”

  I take a deep breath, processing that. “And you didn’t tell me right away because…?”

  “I told you—I wasn’t ready to deal with it yet. I knew you’d be upset, worried about me. I didn’t want you thinking about it before finals. I figured we could talk about it over break, and we did.”

  “Yeah, for all of five minutes.”

  “What more is there to say?” He shrugs. “It sucks, I’m disappointed, but life goes on, right? C’mon, Jem, Christmas is in two days and I’d rather not fight. We’ve got enough to deal with, what with our parents and all. Can’t we call a truce?” He holds out his arms to me, and I only hesitate a moment before I walk into them.

  “For the record, you got mad at me first,” I mumble against his chest, breathing in his familiar scent. “Stupid Stefan Marini.”

  “Yeah, well, I still want to kick his ass.”

  “He’s actually a pretty nice guy,” I say. “At least, I thought he was.”

  “Passive-aggressive prick.” He kisses the top of my head. “I unfriended him yesterday, and he sent me another request ten minutes later.”

  “We really should get rid of social media altogether. I mean, who needs it?” I ask with a shrug.

  “Don’t you Snapchat Morgan and Lucy, like, fifty times a day?”

  “Okay, maybe I do need it,” I concede. “Whatever.”

  “So, you realize this was our first big fight? In, what’s it been? Fourteen months? That’s gotta be a record or something.”

  “Yeah, well, most of the time I like you.” I rise up on tiptoe and kiss his scruffy cheek. “You need to shave, by the way.”

  He rubs his beard with his palm. “I thought it makes me look distinguished.”

  “Nah.” I shake my head. “Just makes you look like you need to shave.”

  He tips his head toward the restaurant. “We should go back inside. They probably ate all our fries.”

  “Then you’re buying me more.”

  “Deal.” He sighs deeply, reaching for my hand. “What are we going to do about our parents?”

  “We’ll figure it out,” I say, sounding way more confident than I feel.

  “I suppose we’ll have to.” He puts his arms around me and lifts me off the ground, bringing his mouth to mine for a quick, tender kiss. “Otherwise, we might just have to elope. Like Romeo and Juliet.”

  Which is ironic, because we’re supposed to be the opposite of Romeo and Juliet, right? Go figure.

  * * *

  When I get home, I head out to the barn and take Delilah—my beloved Ruger Mark III—out of the gun safe. My indoor shooting range is gone now, destroyed along with the old barn, but my dad has set up a new range outside, just behind the wooden structure, with some easels and sand bags. He’s out there now, and he nods when I join him and slip my headset over my ears. The gun feels cool and heavy in my hands, slightly unfamiliar now. It’s been way too long, I realize.

  I slip my goggles on and move to stand in front of my target, my hands gripping Delilah tightly as I line up my sights and squeeze the trigger. My first shot is nowhere near the center of the target. Focus, I tell myself, taking two deep breaths—in and out—before I try again. This time, my shot hits dead center. I pop off three more in quick succession, smiling now as they hit their marks.

  Yeah, I’ve got this.

  My dad sets down his own pistol and watches me as I reload the cartridge, slide it in, and take aim once more. I can sense his approval, his quiet appreciation as my bullets tear up the paper target pinned to the sand bag. Ah, how I’ve missed this.

  A half-hour later, I pull off my goggles, remove my headset, and reluctantly put Delilah away. Already, my right hand is aching. My dad brings me a Coke in a sweaty glass bottle, and we sit side-by-side on a wooden bench drinking in companionable silence for a few minutes.

  “So, your mom’s pretty mad,” he says at last. “About the whole Ryder thing.”

  “What about you?” I ask. “Are you mad, too.”

  He steeples his hands beneath his chin. “I’m not going to lie, I’m a little disappointed.” I start to speak but he holds up a hand, stopping me. “Hear me out. I’m not mad that you and Ryder…well, that you two are doing whatever it is you’re doing. That’s your business—yours and his—and hell, it was pretty much inevitable, right? Plus, he’s a good kid. A great kid, actually. I love him like my own.” He shoots me a side look. “But, Half-Pint, you kids lied to us. You snuck around behind our backs. I really wish you hadn’t done that.”

  I let out my breath in a rush. “I know it was wrong, Daddy. I do. It’s just…Mom and Laura Grace have been driving us nuts about this for so many years. Since forever, really. And..I don’t know, we just wanted this for us, at least for a little while. Until we got it all figured out, I guess.”

  My dad nods. “I can understand that. Still...fourteen months is a long time to keep it under wraps. I suspect you two have long since figured it out.”

  “I guess it just became habit, not telling. And honestly, we didn’t want to make a big deal out of it. Correction—we didn’t want y’all to make a big deal out if it.”

  He looks at me thoughtfully. “But it is kind of a big deal, isn’t it?”

  I shake my head. “I don’t know. I mean, yeah. I guess it is.”

  “And I’m assuming Nan knew from the get-go?”

  “Yeah.” My cheeks burn guiltily at the admission.

  He pats my knee. “Good. I’m glad you had your sister to talk to. That’s important. Okay, I’m going to go wash up. I’ll see what I can do to smooth things over with your mom, okay?”

  I throw my arms around his shoulders. “Thank you, Daddy. You’re awesome.”

  “That’s what all the ladies say.” With a wink in my direction, he heads off toward the house.

  I let out a sigh of relief, feeling as if a heavy weight has been lifted from my shoulders. I hadn’t realized until that very moment how badly I wanted my dad’s approval, but now that I have it—his blessing, so to speak—I feel better. More settled.

  I pull out my phone to text Ryder and tell him, but then I remember there’s still my mom to convince. His mom, too. Nope, we’re not in the clear yet. Not even close.

  Chapter 7

  It’s Christmas Eve, and Ryder and I are sitting side-by-side on the Marsdens’ couch, our mothers opposite us, grilling us. We’d reluctantly agreed to this—a condition of getting their ‘approval’—but hadn’t realized it would be this uncomfortable. Still, it’s worth it if it means we’ll be able to enjoy the rest of our break in peace, able to see each other freely without making excuses or sneaking around after everyone else goe
s to bed.

  “Prom last year?” my mom asks.

  “We didn’t really go as a group. Well, we did, but yeah…Ryder was my date.”

  My mom looks over at Laura Grace, and they share a scowl. I can tell exactly what they’re thinking—mourning those lost photo opps. We’d all gathered at Morgan’s house pre-prom, and taken photos there. And yeah, there were plenty of cute prom pics of me and Ryder stored safely away on a flash drive. I’d had prints made of several of them, which were now framed and scattered about my dorm room. I’d taken them down and hidden them in a drawer when our parents had come up to New York.

  “I can send you the pictures,” I offer with a weak smile, overcome with guilt.

  “That spring break trip to Florida?” Laura Grace asks, and I swear she’s looking at a list in her lap. Yes, apparently our mothers have made a list.

  I clear my throat, stalling, not quite sure what they’re asking.

  Ryder jumps in. “We went to Ft. Walton Beach, just like we said.”

  My mom looks from me to Ryder, and back to me again. “All of you?”

  I nod. “All of us.” It was the truth. It was our senior year, our last hurrah. Of course we’d all gone together. I was not, however, going to go into the sleeping arrangements on said trip. “I’m pretty sure you saw the pictures, Mom,” I add.

  “Obviously not all of them,” she says sourly.

  True. She’d seen the carefully curated version, but whatever. “What else?” I ask.

  Laura Grace consults her list again. “Summer. The kayaking trip.”

  “Again, that was all of us,” I say. “New Orleans, too.”

  Laura Grace looks slightly puzzled. “But on these trips, you were…together? A couple?”

  “I guess so,” I say, not quite sure what she’s asking.

  “So what you’re saying is, everyone else knew?” my mom asks.

  Ryder nods. “Our friends knew, yes.”

  I swear, I think my mom’s going to cry. “I am so sorry, Mom. We just didn’t think it was that big a deal.”