by Ava Miles
“Rye, you know she wants to give you and Tory room to have your own family.”
“Shit. We might need to cut more wood,” Rye mumbled.
John Parker took a sip from his longneck, but it was already lukewarm from the heat and humidity. “Let’s join the others. Looks like Clayton’s given up playing with the dogs.”
Rye had invited their friend to stay around since a slew of business issues were coming in by the hour. Most Clayton handled, but Rye had helped with some.
Tory had finished slathering giant slabs of meat with BBQ sauce and was now topping them off with what looked like chili powder. John Parker wished he had the stomach for those ribs, but given the way he was feeling, he was going to choke on a bone.
“Need any help, honey?” Rye asked, kissing her on the back of her neck.
“No, I’m good. Go sit a spell.”
“You’re sounding like a right Southerner,” John Parker observed.
“Hard not to around Rye,” Tory said. “Plus I like some of the sayings down here.”
Since no one was occupying the red-cushioned sofa, Rye and John Parker sat there, joining Clayton, Amelia Ann, and Hampton, who looked comfortably situated in the cluster of matching chairs that fanned out in front of it. Part of him wanted to go over to Tammy, but he’d pressed her pretty hard today, and he didn’t want to overdo it.
“What are y’all talking about?” Rye said unceremoniously.
“Belle retiring after this tour,” Hampton told them.
“Yes, she’s threatening to move to Florida.” Rye playfully shuddered. “Can’t imagine it. She’s lived in Nashville most of her life.”
John Parker was happy Belle was finally getting off the road.
“Well, she’s been on tour for how long now?” Hampton asked
Clayton’s smile softened. “Since before I was born.”
Amelia Ann shot Clayton a look. “So, are you taking over as Rye’s manager if Belle retires, or will you be finding a new job?”
There was vinegar in her voice, and even Rye’s brow rose in surprise.
He shrugged amiably. “That’s Rye’s decision, but I’m hoping he’ll agree with me taking Mama’s place.”
“Can’t think of anyone more qualified,” Rye drawled, “but I’ll still have to check your references.”
They shared an easy laugh, and for a moment, it was like everything was back to normal again.
“Rye,” Tory called out. “The ribs are ready to go on the smoker.”
He elbowed John Parker before standing. “Come on, bubba. You’re on grill duty with me.”
Amelia Ann stood as well. “I’ll help too.”
She and her brother shared a look, and they all went off to the smoker together, Rye holding the cookie sheet with the ribs. John Parker arranged the ribs on the grill, pausing a moment to inhale that earthy mesquite smoke before shutting the lid. When he was through, Amelia Ann handed him a paper towel to wipe his hands.
“What’s on your mind, sugar?” Rye asked his sister, cutting right to the point.
“I want to know exactly what happened,” she demanded. “And don’t coddle me. I see how the kids are. They’re shadows of themselves. What do the police know?”
He was quiet a moment, like he was mulling over what to say. “Okay, honey, if you want to know…”
Rye proceeded to tell her everything, and the way her face turned chalk-white made John Parker want to rip something apart again.
“I’ll stay with them, Rye,” she said once he’d finished.
“No, sugar. You have your life, and Tammy was very plain about wanting to be left alone. I’m not giving up, though—I still want John Parker to stay here. We just need to convince her it’s a good idea.”
“You care about my sister, don’t you?” Amelia Ann asked, giving John Parker her full attention.
“Yes,” he answered. “Very much.”
“I’m glad. She deserves someone nice after Sterling. I’ll talk to her.”
He and his sisters tag-teamed each other all the time, so he didn’t see any harm in it. “Maybe your sister will listen to you.”
“She thinks we’re a bunch of Neanderthals,” Rye muttered.
“Well, you are sometimes, but in this case, it’s just good sense.”
“Exactly!” Rye exclaimed.
John Parker couldn’t agree with them more.
Chapter 21
The enticing scent of grilled meat and BBQ hovered over the dinner table, and just like all of Tory’s heavenly cooking, even in the worst moments, her food called forth an appetite. Tammy couldn’t help herself from biting into the succulent meat with enjoyment.
Tory had a gift with food, one she’d used to gentle Rye, and to comfort the broken Hollins family when they’d all sat down to dinner together nearly a year ago, their relationships in tatters like towels torn up for rags.
The others at the table couldn’t help but respond to the magic in Tory’s food too, groaning and closing their eyes as they took one bite after another. The men passed the massive china blue platters around for seconds. Amelia Ann dished up another heaping of potato salad, and Annabelle and Rory asked if they could have a little more of Tory’s famous baked beans chock full of smoked bacon.
No one said much as they ate, and everything seemed okay for a while. Like nothing was wrong. Like the house hadn’t been invaded in the night.
Tory enlisted everyone to help with the cleanup, likely recognizing that simple chores go a long way toward occupying busy minds. But when the last dish was stowed in the dishwasher, the food’s magic started to wear off. As darkness descended, even all the lights on in the house couldn’t diminish the primal fear Tammy felt in her gut. She could tell the kids, who seemed to be jumping at the slightest noise, felt it too.
How were they supposed to sleep tonight?
The whole group retired to the den, and Rye brought out some board games. Clayton and John Parker, both of whom Tory had asked to stay over, watched from the sidelines while the rest of them played Candy Land with the kids.
Annabelle took the lead at one point, and she clapped her hands in glee when she landed on Gum Drop Mountain, showing a spark of her usual childhood delight. When the game ended with Rory winning, Tammy announced it was time for baths. Rory ignored her and walked over to his uncle, who was returning the game to the bookshelf, Tory at his side.
“Uncle Rye?” He waited until he had his full attention. “I want you to teach me how to shoot a gun.”
Everyone froze, and silence descended like an unwelcome relative. Rory’s serious blue eyes made Tammy want to scoop him up and never put him down.
“Why do you need me to teach you that, son?” Rye said, crouching down to his level.
“I need to protect Mama and Annabelle.”
He’d always been her little champion, and it hurt to see him asking such a question at his tender age. A gun? Dear God.
“Son, it’s a special thing, wanting to protect your mama and sister, but I’m afraid we’ll have to wait for those lessons until you’re older.”
Rory put his hand on his hips, his chin firmed with determination. “I’m serious, Uncle Rye. I’ve thought about it a lot today. I want to be ready if the bad man comes back. He hurt Bandit, so he might hurt Mama and Annabelle too. I can stop him if you teach me.”
Tammy could hardly breathe as she watched Rye pluck her son into his arms. “Ah, son, now look, I’ve hired men to watch the house and keep you and your mama and Annabelle safe. Nothing’s gonna happen. I promise.”
Rory struggled away and stomped his foot, something he’d never done before. “But he could still come back. Annabelle and I talked about it. Uncle Rye, you have to teach me!”
Tammy ran over and fell to her knees beside him. “Rory, honey, Mama will take care of you and Annabelle. Do you trust me?”
His eyes locked in on her face. “He’s bigger than you are, Mama, and he hurt Bandit.”
When she tried to r
ub his arm in comfort, he pushed her away. Oh, how that hurt. “I know, honey, but that’s not going to happen again.”
Her son’s head turned from her as if she hadn’t spoken.
“Mr. McGuiness, do you have a gun?” he asked.
John Parker crossed his arms over his chest, his mouth tight. “Yes, son, I do.”
Rory nodded, his whole body shaking now. “Okay, then we can stay at your house.”
Tammy’s mouth opened in shock. “Honey, no, we’re going to be fine here. Like your uncle said, there will be guards and—”
“No, Mama!” he shouted.
The force of his voice rooted her to the ground.
“We can’t stay here. The bad man knows how to find us. If we go to Mr. McGuiness’ house, he won’t know where we are.”
Her son’s logic rendered her mute.
Annabelle joined her brother and took his hand, her lip wobbling. “There are monsters here, Mama,” she whispered. “I want to go to Mr. McGuiness’ house too.” Then she started to cry, and Rory released her hand to wrap an arm around her.
“Please let us stay at your house, Mr. McGuiness,” Rory pleaded. “We’ll be good. I promise.”
Tammy’s face bunched as she struggled not to cry. Oh, what could she say to them? Warm masculine hands settled on her shoulders, and she instantly knew they were John Parker’s.
“You can stay at my house, Rory. As long as you need. And I swear to you the bad man will never find you again.”
Tammy’s hands dug into her palms at the resolve in his voice. “John Parker—”
“Good,” her son said and knuckled tears away. He and Annabelle shared a glance, as if communicating an unspoken agreement. “Mama, please let us stay at Mr. McGuiness’ house.”
Like being swept away at sea, Tammy watched helplessly as Rory rushed forward and grabbed John Parker’s leg, burying his face against it, and Annabelle did the same. John Parker ruffled their hair, and when he raised his eyes to her, she saw tears in them.
Even though her throat was coated with nails, she finally found her voice. “John Parker—”
“It will be easier this way,” John Parker interrupted. “You won’t have to shuttle back and forth, working on my gardens, and Rory and Annabelle can help us.”
“I like helping,” Annabelle said in a small voice. She raised her arms to John Parker, who picked her up. “Can I bring my dolls, Kitty and Beth?”
Her kids seemed calmer now, and she took some solace in that, even while anger simmered on a back burner. Just like before, he’d taken over without asking for her opinion.
“Yes, bring your dolls and anything else you love,” John Parker told her. “Do you like having tea parties?”
She nodded her head quickly.
“Good, then you bring your tea set too. You can have one in your mama’s garden when it’s done.”
Satisfied, she ducked her face into his neck, sucking on her thumb.
“It’s for the best, Mama,” Rory said as if he were the adult, and she bit her tongue to hold in her emotions.
“Okay, then we’ll stay with him,” she said, like it hadn’t already been decided.
Amelia Ann stood and crossed over to the children. “Let’s go upstairs and take a bath, Annabelle.” Her sister gave her a pointed look, and Tammy could tell she was clearing the way for her to have that private talk with John Parker.
“I’ll help you,” Tory volunteered.
Annabelle reached for Amelia Ann after John Parker kissed her hair, the action so gentle it helped ease the sting of his slight.
Rory looked over at Rye. “Will you help me with my bath? I want to talk to you some more.”
“Sure thing, son.” He swung her boy into his arms and followed the others out of the room.
Once they’d left the room, John Parker put his hands on her shoulders and kissed the top of her head. She stood stiffly in his arms and then stepped away.
Sensing the way the wind was blowing, Daddy turned to Clayton and said, “Why don’t you join me in Rye’s study for another drink? I find my mouth has gone bone dry.”
Clayton inclined his head. “Funny, I was just thinking the same.” He put his arm around her daddy’s shoulders and led him from the room.
And just like that, they were alone.
The room was quiet, and Tammy and John Parker stood looking at each other until he broke the silence with a sigh.
“I know you’re upset right now, but what was I supposed to do, Tammy? Tell them they couldn’t come and stay at my house after they pleaded with me? You might as well shoot me right now with your brother’s gun.”
“That’s not the point, and you know it. How could you do this after what we talked about earlier? I thought you understood how I felt.” And that was the biggest betrayal. It was like he hadn’t heard her after all.
He shut his eyes and took a breath, like he was trying to calm himself. “I do, but did you see the fear in their eyes? Your son pleaded with me. Pleaded! I couldn’t refuse that, and if you’re worried people will talk about us living in the same house—”
“I don’t give a fig what people think, not if it’s what’s best for all of us.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“I told you. I’ve let other people make decisions for me all my life. It has to stop, or I’ll never amount to anything.”
He shook his head in exasperation. “Honey, okay, now I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Me!” She pointed to her chest. “This…person. Tammy Hollins. I want to be someone who makes her own decisions, who’s strong, who’s…oh God…who’s not afraid to take on what needs taking on. I want to be someone my children can learn from and take pride in.”
“But they are proud of you, and they look up to you every day. Don’t you see the way they watch you?”
She shook her head, her mouth clenched shut.
His sigh was long-suffering as he took her hand. “I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you before agreeing. I was only trying to support those little kids. And you, by giving them what they need.”
Part of her knew that. “But it’s too much, staying at your house for heaven knows how long. You’ve never lived with children. They take over everything.” She thought quickly, assessing her financial situation. She didn’t have enough money to rent and furnish the kind of place she wanted, but if she could count on more jobs trickling in at a steady rate, perhaps she could make it work. “Maybe I can quickly find a house to rent. That way, I can ease Rory’s mind about the bad man finding us without inconveniencing you.”
His face darkened. “Is that what you think? That having your kids see my house as a haven is an inconvenience to me?”
And here they were again. “No. It’s like I said, John Parker, I can’t be a good person unless I stand on my own two feet.”
“You think accepting help from the people who care for you makes you less of a good person? That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. You’re already a good person. Only people without families stand alone in times like this.”
She shook her head. “But, John Parker, you’re not family.”
He leaned his head in, his eyes glowing like the deep, blue flame of a blow torch. “No, dammit, I’m not. But I’d like to be.”
His words made her heart gallop in her chest.
He blew out a tortured breath. “Don’t you get it, Tammy? I’m in love with you. And if you think I’m leaving you to face this alone, you’re just plain crazy.”
He loved her? Oh dear God in heaven!
He walked hastily to the French doors leading to the backyard and jerked one open. “If you’re not willing to stay at my house for yourself, do it for the kids. They know I love them enough to keep the monsters away. At any cost.”
Tammy pressed a hand to her chest as he slammed the door, rattling the glass frame. His words kept playing through her head, the music of them an unfamiliar sound.
“Tammy?”
She swung around.
Rye walked over to her and held out a scotch. “Sounded like you could use this.”
“You heard?” she asked, appalled.
“Yes, hard not to. You know, J.P. doesn’t get upset often, but he seems to be on a hair trigger with you.” He pushed the drink into her hand. “Knock it back, honey.”
“But that’ll be my second today.” She’d turn into a drunkard at this rate.
“Well, saints preserve us, the world might end. Do it.”
He was right. The world felt like it had been turned on its ear already; what was the harm? She made a face after downing it and handed him the glass. “It still tastes like melted tires.”
Rye pulled her into a hug, and she settled easily against him.
“He loves me, Rye,” she confessed, the words new and fragile on her tongue.
“Of course he does, honey. He has from the beginning. Why else would he be acting like this?”
She struggled out of his arms. “What do you mean?”
“Sometimes it happens that way, you know. You don’t really see it coming. Don’t even know it’s there until it hits you like a freight train.”
“But—”
Rye pressed her puzzled face back against his chest. “J.P.’s a traditional man. He wanted to give you some time after the divorce, but why do you think he’s been hanging around here so much? I mean, I love him like the brother I’ve never had, but seriously. The man’s never spent so much time here before.”
Tammy shoved away from his chest at that. “But the gardens?” It came out like a gasp.
Oh, God, she was a fool. She should have trusted her suspicions about his motives. What man really cared about flowers? “It was only a ruse to get me to spend time with him.”
“Yes. Do you know why I asked you to design the gardens here? Because I knew you loved it, and I thought it would make you happy when you were so lost and sad, as sad as I was being apart from Tory. I couldn't have cared less about this place looking better. Honey, we’re men. The only plants we know a darn thing about are roses because those are the ones we remember to buy for special occasions or to help us get laid.” He cleared his throat. “Sorry about that last part. The gardens also gave you and me something to work on together, helping us find some common ground. It was my way of fixing things. Hell, J.P. originally gave me the idea. He told me to find out what you liked and help you do it.”