They tell me they don’t care that I’m taking a few days off, but they sure are pissed that I won’t tell them where I am and that I’ve got no security detail with me. But they don’t need to know, and Colt didn’t think it was funny when I told him he was on a need-to-know basis. I guess that concept only works one way in his eyes. If they both used their brains, they should know the only time I don’t take security is when I’m with my family because they have their own. My uncle Ashton has his own security company, and I made sure he already knew before I left LA what my plans were.
So the people who matter know where I am, and I know that nothing from these few days will ever make a social media post or a gossip show.
After a quiet night in the penthouse apartment I keep in Chicago so I will always have somewhere to come home to, I’m about to drive up the gravel driveway of the lake house. This place has changed so much since Dad purchased it, and what was a rundown cottage is now a beautiful, tasteful estate. It’s not over the top and flashy, but you can see the love that Momand Dad poured into it when they renovated it. I spent so many of my summers growing up, here with my family creating core memories that I carry through life with me now.
I’m deliberately, fashionably late, judging by all the cars parked in the field that Dad opens for that purpose when we are all here. I quickly swing through the gate and park at the back so no one sees me yet. I jump out of the car and feel little-kid energy running through me as I make my way toward the back of the house where I can hear everyone in the big entertainment pavilion. There is one thing that is certain—when my extended family is together, it’s loud, and I love it.
Stepping around the corner of the house, I don’t wait to be spotted but announce myself instead.
“The special guest has arrived. Now you can start the party!” I yell at the top of my voice.
A collective chorus of “Jack!” sings out, and my mom and two sisters, Kayla and Remi, are now screaming as they start running toward me.
Opening my arms, I catch Mom first, and my sisters are on either side of her, all in tears. Dad and my brother Gabe are standing behind them, but they know they have to wait in line to greet me.
“Why didn’t you tell us you were coming? Oh my God, look at you, it’s been too long. How long are you here for, let me get you something to eat, where’s your bag?” Mom has my face in her hands looking up at me, now that I’m a head taller than she is.
“Mia, slow down and give JJ room to breathe.” I love hearing my dad call me by his nickname for me. He adopted me when I was four when he met my mom, and then I took his last name, Jefferson. It’s our special thing between us. Never once have I not felt loved as his own son.
“Then it wouldn’t have been a surprise.” I lean forward and give Mom a kiss on the cheek that’s wet from happy tears, alongwith my sisters, who are also firing questions at me. “Okay, okay, hold your horses, I’m here for a few days, so there will be plenty of time to fill you in on everything.” I manage to wrestle a hand free and reach out to grab Gabe’s hand.
“Hey, Bro.” Pulling him to me, Remi steps aside for her twin brother to give me a hug.
“Okay, you’ve all had your turn, now move aside.” Dad’s deep voice has them all moving aside except for Mom. She has tucked herself under my arm and wrapped her arms tightly around me, with no intention of letting go anytime soon.
“Good to have you home, JJ.” I can hear the emotion in his voice, but I’m going to lose my bet with Mase, because there are no tears, although I can see the emotion in his eyes.
“Missed you guys,” I whisper to them both.
I feel their love pouring into the hug, and that’s exactly what I needed because it feels like I’m home when I’m in the arms of my parents and surrounded by my family. I can feel the tension starting to drain from my body.
“Am I the last one to arrive?” I ask as my parents finally start to release me from their grasps.
“Yes, and for the first time in a few years, the whole framily is here,” Dad replies proudly.
“Seriously, that’s awesome. Then let’s get the grill fired up and food on the table, so you can feed me, woman, because you’re right, I’m starving,” I cheekily comment to Mom, and she smiles brightly at the thought of being able to look after me. The funny thing is I can see in her eyes that she’s torn between having to let go of me completely or give in to the sudden urge to mother me to death.
“Don’t go anywhere.” She looks up at me again, nods, and then scurries off toward the kitchen.
“I better go and calm her down, and you can start working yourself through the lineup behind me. I’m surprised youraunties haven’t already swarmed you the moment your mother let you go.” Dad chuckles as he walks toward the back door of the lake house, and I’m swallowed into the hugs of the family crowded in front of me.
I’ve forgotten what it’s like to have peace of mind and just relax. Today has been all about eating, swimming, playing so many games with all my cousins, and then the ultimate showdown of me, Gabe, Jessie, and Dom in a basketball match against Dad and my uncles, Mason, Tate, and Gray. Even though they’re all over thirty years older than us, they never give in. It’s been a traditional grudge match ever since us four boys were old enough to play. And they are competitive fuckers who have never let us win, even when we were younger. We’ve had to fight for every point, but finally this year was the victory of all victories, with the next generation finally taking the trophy.
Sitting around the fire pit now, we are still giving them shit about how old they are. When Mom comes emerges from the house holding the guitar that I’ve always kept here since I learned to play, a cheer breaks out around the fire.
“Thanks, Mom.” She sits down on the bench next to me, and I give her a quick side hug before I settle the guitar in my lap like it’s an extension of my body.
The good thing is they don’t want a concert from me. This is just a family singalong. And most of the time it sounds terrible, but no one cares.
“Okay, what’s the first request?” I ask, tuning up the strings on my old faithful friend.
“‘Carry You Home’, by Alex Warren,” Kayla yells in my ear on the other side of me, before anyone else gets a chance to speak.
“Whoa, okay, watch the eardrums there, Sis.” She bangs her shoulder against mine as I laugh at her.
“Not like you don’t live in a world of loud music all the time. No way I was louder than when you’re on stage. Or are you going soft on us?” She pokes her tongue out at me.
“Never, and I see you haven’t gotten over your infatuation with my friend Alex’s music, and even though I doubt the oldies will know this one, here you go.” As I play the first few chords, those who know the words start singing, and my heart is full.
