Page 71 of The Ruckup
“Your response definitely could have been better.” I look between them, unsure what to say. “But I appreciate the apology.”
My mother clasps both hands in front of her chest, fingers laced tightly together. “Is she feeling okay? Any morning sickness?”
There’s genuine concern in her question, and for the first time since all this started I have hope my parents and I can rebuild our relationship. “She is sick as a dog.”
My mother’s hands pull apart before coming to rest against the center of her chest. “I remember those days. It’s miserable.” Her expression pinches. “Has she tried ginger? It really helped ease my sickness when I was pregnant with you and Alexis.”
We’ve tried plenty of things to ease Maddie’s nausea, but ginger is something I hadn’t even considered. “Do you just chew on a piece of it?”
Babs seems to bounce a little, looking strangely excited. “You can use it all sorts of ways.” She turns, heading for the kitchen. “Let me show you.”
I spend the next half hour listening to my mother talk about the miseries of pregnancy as she digs through her cabinets, managing to find half a box of ginger tea. When there’s nothingelse on hand that would be useful, she turns to her laptop and starts scrolling. In no time, she’s ordered candied ginger, ginger mouth spray, ginger lozenges, ginger soda.
And shipped all of it to my house, along with some sort of weird pillow she swears will come in handy when Maddie’s belly starts getting big, and a comfortable pajama set that will stretch as our baby grows.
I’m touched at her readiness to take care of Maddie. It gives me hope that while Maddie’s mother might not ever come around to accepting our relationship, mine appears ready and willing to put in the effort to be there for us in a healthy, supportive way.
A way Maddie will be thrilled to discover includes food.
My mom is just scooping out a tray full of extra thick chocolate chip cookies when someone starts banging on the front door. All four of us stare out of the kitchen into the entryway, confused why anyone would knock instead of ringing the doorbell.
My dad stands up from his stool at the counter just as whoever’s on their doorstep amps things up a notch, hitting the wood so hard I can hear it rattling in the frame.
My dad looks through the peephole and his body goes rigid. His jaw is set tight as he opens the door. Another man comes barging in, nearly slamming into my dad as he goes.
“I’m gonna kill your fucking son, Casselini.” Maddie’s dad looks halfway to a heart attack as he screams in my father’s face. “Do you know what he’s done to her?”
“Calm down.” My dad makes an attempt to de-escalate the situation, but Mr. Miller is having none of it.
“Calm down?” His chest puffed out, eyes wild. “He’s not only turned her against us, but now that son of a bitch got her pregnant.”
“Don’t call my son a son of a bitch.” Dan’s tone is deadly and dark. “And if you can’t calm down, I’m going to ask you to leave.”
It’s weird to see my dad being the voice of reason after his initial response to finding out about Maddie and me. Weird, but it goes a long way at showing me he genuinely is sorry for the way he reacted.
I don’t see Mr. Miller having the same sort of epiphany.
“Don’t tell me you’re actually condoning this.” Maddie’s dad scoffs. “I thought you were smarter than that, Da—” his gaze comes into the kitchen for the first time, landing squarely on me.
Shit.
Kicking Drake’s ass is one thing. I will happily do it anytime, anywhere, any day.
I don’t want to have to kick Maddie’s father’s ass. For a multitude of reasons, the least of which being I don’t want my mother to have to clean blood off her kitchen floor. Especially since she’s making me and Maddie cookies.
I can almost watch as Mr. Miller’s blood pressure skyrockets. His eyes narrow, and he Cox and arm even though we’re a room away. “I’m gonna kick your fucking a?—”
The guy tries to come at me, but he doesn’t even make it two steps. My dad’s arm shoots up at the speed of lightning, catching him right across the front of his neck in a wicked clothesline that sends Mr. Miller tipping straight back.
I resist the urge to stand up, because I’m pretty sure it will only make things worse if Mr. Miller believes I’m going to engage in his nonsense. But while I try to keep a neutral position, Babs grabs the closest thing on the counter that could be considered a weapon and gets between me and Mr. Miller.
“You fucking bastard.” I’m shocked at how quick Maddie’s dad manages to get on his feet. This time he is ready, blocking my dad with one arm, bloodshot eyes pinned on where I sit as he makes a second go at getting his hands on me.
And for the second time, one of my parents knocks him right on his ass. My mom is so short, he doesn’t even seem to notice her standing there—or maybe he doesn’t consider her a threat because she’s a woman—so when she swings the baking sheet up and over, smashing it right into his face, Mr. Miller is caught by complete surprise.
I’m not sure if the sound he makes when the metal connects with his nose is funny or sad, but the screeching sort of grunt is gratifying. He’s hurt Maddie so much over her life. Brought her pain and guilt and suffering through his belief in his right to dictate her choices.
My dad bends down, hauling the smaller man up to his feet before shoving him to the door. “Go home and get yourself together, and when you’re ready to discuss this reasonably, you let me know.” He pushes Maddie’s dad out the still open door before closing it behind him and flipping the deadbolt.
