Page 34 of Worth the Rush
“Let’s get you back to your daddy before he has an aneurysm. Okay, Hazey baby?”
“Okay, Muncle Aldie!” She lights up and slaps a tiny hand on each side of his scruffy face, tiny cup forgotten. Muncle Aldie? So he’s her uncle. And looks to be a good one. That’s…not something I want to find attractive. But I do. I really do. I look at his face. He’s chuckling when he leans in to rub his face into her neck and make growling noises. My throat goes tight.
Turning his head to me he asks, “You coming, Stormcloud?”
“Yeah.” My voice is thick with emotion I’m trying to hide. I clear my throat before continuing, “Lead the way.” I wave my arm. He gives me a funny look but walks down the sidewalk in the direction of Thistle and Sage, tickling Hazel's side every so often. I’m giggling right along with her by the time we make it to the entrance. I’m getting the feeling that it’s hard to resist Muncle Aldie.
As soon as we clear the door and hear the bell chime, a stern voice has my head turning.
“Alder, you said five minutes. It’s been twenty.” The man with the authoritative voice is sitting at a table with Rhett but stands when we come in. Oh my. Tall, dark, and handsome personified. What gene pool lottery did this family win?
“Hazey wanted to get a better look at the tree after we got her some delicious, citrusy wassail, and how am I supposed to keep being the favorite uncle if I don’t do everything she wants me to?” Alder asks, and I snort. Then smooth my face when everyone turns to look at me. I want the ground to swallow me whole. My face flames, and Alder’s sporting an absolutely winning grin.Damn it.I’m saved by a woman with a kind voice and graying hair coming over to take Hazel from Alder.
“Hi, baby girl. Let’s get you a treat to go with your drink,”she whispers conspiratorially. Then sends me a wink. “Hello, I’m Mary, Alder’s mom. It’s lovely to meet you,” she tells me.
“Hello, it’s nice to meet you as well. I’m Ivy,” I tell her, and I mean it. I’mhappyto meet her.
“Mom, the last thing she needs is more sugar. Rhett let her eat half of his cinnamon roll earlier.” He cuts a look to his brother, and Rhett doesn’t look the least bit chastised.
“She wanted some. I’m not above fighting dirty,” he says, like it’s an obvious answer. I am enthralled by this very unique family dynamic. Well, new to me. Foreign, actually.
“Knox, I raised four children, and you’ve all grown up to be decent humans, didn’t you?” she asks pointedly.
“Yes, ma’am,” he replies.
“Well then, I think a little treat on a special occasion will be alright. Don’t you?” she asks him again in a sweet voice that makes me straighten my back slightly.
“Yes, ma’am,” he answers again. I smile because I already really like Mary.
“And Alder? Rhett?” She eyes them both. “Check with your brother every now and then when spoiling your niece.”
“Yes, ma’am,” they say in unison. I am thoroughly enjoying this.
“I have some orange cranberry scones and cinnamon bread,” Winnie calls from the swinging door she’s backing through.
“Rhett…” Knox says with some warning in his voice. Weird. Then Rhett launches for Winnie just in time to catch one of the trays and steady her.
“Easy, darlin’. I got it.”
“Thank you,” she says sweetly, blushing. “I appreciate you heading off any potentialclumsiness.”
I look at Alder and find him smiling at them. I don’t think this evening is going to be good for my plan to stay in control of the feelings bubbling up in me.
It’s been two hours, and I have sampled four chili recipes, all A+, five ciders, also all A+, and I’ve had too many baked goods to feel healthy. I’m settling in to watch the tree light up. I broke off from the Holloway crew half an hour ago. I needed a little space and alone time. I laughed so hard my stomach hurt when Winnie’s Uncle Buck told the story of Colt jumping off their shed roof with a sheet, thinking it would act as a parachute. I’ve laughed a lot tonight and smiled even more.
Now, when I’m alone again, I’m reminded of how devoid of love and humor my childhood was. I was alone in a house full of people. Nannies and house staff that cared for me, but not about me. No one will be telling stories of little Ivy. I scoff. How pathetic. Sad. I detest being sad. I think that’s why I’ve turned to things in the past that helped me not be so sad. Buying things, going on trips, sleeping with strangers. It’s shallow and vapid, but it worked—for a while.
After Noah, I felt like I had so much life to catch up on. It’s funny when people ask me about my loss. They assume it’s Noah that I grieve. They don’t know about the deeper wounds. I never truly loved my husband, and maybe that’s a horrible thing to say, but I am an honest bitch. I didn’t want to be Mrs. Noah James, though, ever. I did want to be a mom, and I didwant stability for my child. The air is sucked from my lungs, and I feel like I’ve been punched in the gut. Blinding pain consumes me as I try to will myself to breathe.
“Ivy?” Oh god. Please no. Anyone but him. “Hey…it’s alright. I need you to breathe, princess.” His hands are on my shoulders, and he’s smiling softly, small lines etching his forehead are the only sign of worry. I hate that he’s being so nice to me. He takes my hand in his and places it over his broad chest. I can feel the steady thumping there. “Feel that?” he asks me quietly, turning his head to look down the street. “Now look over there,” he instructs, and I turn my head, still fighting with my burning lungs. The tree is slowly starting to brighten with each strand of lights coming to life. “Let’s count with them,” he suggests. “One. Two.” He looks back at me. “Come on, Ivy. I know you can do this. Three. Four.” He moves his hand from my shoulder up to my cheek, swiping at the wetness leaving tracks on my face.
“F-f-f-ive,” I croak, looking back at him. He grins. Wide enough to pop that dimple.
“That’s so good, Ivy.” His voice is like a balm that speaks directly to unhealed wounds. My breath catches on an inhale. My chest warms at his words. “Six,” he says, looking at me expectantly.
“Sev-seven,” I finish, and when I look to the side again, the tree is lit up, and it’s beautiful—and I’m breathing.
“How’d you…do that?” I ask Alder, my voice raspier than normal.
