Page 55 of No Rhyme or Roughing
Sullivan studied me, his brow creased, that slight smile of his disappearing for just a moment. He opened his mouth to say something, but the doorbell saved us.
Teddy shot me a panicked look. “I may have done something bad.”
I looked back over my shoulder to where Sullivanheaded toward the door. “Who is going to be on the other side, Ted?”
“My mother.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah.”
“Double shit.”
When Sullivan returned, he didn’t just have Mrs. Valentine at his side—there were two others. The first to notice me was my mother. She shoved the pie she’d been holding at Sullivan and rushed toward me.
“Baby, I missed you.” Her arms came around me, and I relaxed for the first time in days.
Life hadn’t been easy growing up. My dad was dead, money was tight, but Mom was always there—ready to tell me it was okay to be more stoic than the gregarious Sullivan, more serious. It was okay to be me, to want what I wanted.
Then, I saw the third newcomer.
He was leaner than I remembered, grimmer. Exhaustion lined his features, but Mr. Valentine was still the imposing figure who’d once yelled at us boys for letting Sydney ride the ATV with us and lectured us about keeping her safe. He’d always protected her—until he hadn’t.
“Triple shit,” I said, not meaning to. Both Valentine parents here at the same time.
Mr. Valentine coughed. “Hello. My daughter said it would be okay if I…” He seemed lost for words.
Mom, once good friends with Sydney and Teddy’s parents, took over. “Of course it’s okay, Grant. You’re both very welcome in my son’s home. I see you brought some wine—how thoughtful. Ryder, dear, take the winefrom Grant. Sullie, you relieve Mina of that delicious-smelling casserole.”
“It’s candied yams.” Mina Valentine lifted her chin. I never heard if she changed her last name after the divorce, but I couldn’t think of her as anything other than Teddy’s mom. Same sour expression, same judgmental gaze.
I set the wine on the counter.Shit. Sydney.“I need to use the restroom.”
I hurried from the kitchen, walking straight into the living room where Frankie and Sam were debating the offsides recall rule while Sydney looked like she wanted to melt into the couch. I stopped as close to her as I could get and lightly grabbed her arm. “Come with me.”
She didn’t protest as I pulled her to her feet, led her to the back porch, and shut the door behind us.
“What’s wrong?” she finally asked.
I turned to face her, ready to ruin her Thanksgiving with this news, but then stopped. She looked so trusting, so perfect at that moment. A full, round face, wide eyes, luscious red lips. God, I wanted to kiss her.
Stepping back, I drew in a breath. “Both of your parents are here.”
She froze for a moment before breath re-entered her lungs. “No,” she hissed. “I only invited Dad, and I never thought he’d come.”
“Teddy invited your mother.”
She flattened herself against the screen door, letting it press in. “They’re inside right now. At the same time? Like… the same room?”
“Yes.”
Her breaths came fast, shallow. She shook her head. “I can’t…”
“Hey, come here.” I pulled her against me, wrapping my arms around her. Pressing my lips to her temple, I whispered, “You can do this, Syd. If anyone can face them, it’s you.”
“No. You don’t understand.”
I did. Or I was beginning to.
