“But I like my hair how it is.”
“I’m glad to hear that. I like your hair how it is, too. And I likeyoujust how you are.” Her momma shuffled around in the kitchen, and Rory had half a mind to peek around the corner just to witness this bonding so she could study every minute detail of it in hope of recreating it herself. “You’re gettin’ to the age now when your friends are gonna be doin’ a lot of things you might not be interested in. And that’s okay. It’s good to have different interests. But now’s also the time when you get to figure out who youare and who you wanna be. And I hope when you’re figurin’ that out, you listen the most to that little voice in your head. Because it knows best how to make you happy.”
A sudden lump formed in Rory’s throat, a tightness in her chest that nearly had her stumbling. Much as she loved her momma for having that talk with Ava and reassuring her that she needed to make herself happy above all else, Rory couldn’t help but wonder where it’d been twenty-five years ago when she’d needed it. When she’d had others whispering in her ear about who and what she should be. So loud, they’d overpowered every single whisper of an inner voice she’d had.
Was it better or worse that the voice that changed her the most had been her daddy’s?
“I wonder where your momma is,” Rory’s mom said. “She out lookin’ after your sister?”
“Dunno. I thought she was right behind me.”
Rory cleared her clogged throat and prayed her eyes weren’t blotchy from unshed tears. She pasted on a smile, her heart aching over the possibilities of what could’ve been. And when she turned the corner and saw her mom and her daughter standing side by side working—something Ava hadn’t been interested in with Rory in months—her heart also ached over what couldn’t be.
Rory’d managedto keep a smile on her face for over an hour while she, her momma, and Ava prepped for Sunday supper. And she was tired. So fucking tired. That only proved how much she’d been slipping these past months. Used to be, she could hold that fake smile all day if that was what was called for. But now? The entire fiasco was exhausting.
“Smells good in here.” Mac blew into the kitchen like a tornado, snagging one of the cut veggies off the tray before leaning her elbow on the counter. “Anything I can help with?”
“I think we’ve pretty much got everything ready. Just waitin’ a bit for the gravy to finish up, then we’re set.” Momma raised an eyebrow at Mac. “Funny how you show up every week just in time to eat.”
Mac held her hands up. “Don’t pin that on me! I came over with Will. Could barely drag the girl away from Finn’s mou—”
“Remember all the dirt I have on you before you finish that sentence.” Will pressed a kiss to their momma’s cheek and gave Rory a quick hug. “And it’s a lot juicer than me kissin’ my fiancé.”
“I’m not sure about that. I saw an awful lot of to—”
“Mackenna Isabelle Haven. I know you are not about to finish that sentence.” Momma leveled her with a look.Thelook.
“Tolerance, Momma, jeez,” Mac said. “Will’s got an awful lot of tolerance when it comes to her fiancé. What’d you think I was gonna say?”
The stare their momma gave her said she didn’t buy the flimsy excuse one bit, but she wasn’t going to call her out on it. Good, because Rory wasn’t sure she could listen to more talk about Will and herfiancéwithout the brittle smile on her face cracking even more.
“Ava, would you call in your sister, please, so y’all can set the table?” Momma said, handing out orders that somehow made it seem like saying no was an option, though everyone knew it wasn’t. “Will, would you mind pullin’ down all the dishes for them? And Mac, think you can stop runnin’ your mouth long enough to fetch your gran?”
A mix ofYes, ma’ams—from Will and Ava—and laughter—from Mac, naturally—filled the space, and Rory clung to the first thing she could think of to get her out of there for a moment of breathing room. “Actually, Mac, would you mind helpin’ Ava find Ella? She probably won’t hear y’all callin’ from the back porch. Heaven only knows where that girl ended up. I’ll go ahead and get Gran.”
Since Mac was like Rory’s youngest daughter in that she loved everything about being outdoors, she didn’t need to be asked twice.
Rory took her sweet time making her way toward Gran’s suite. Years ago, after Gramps had passed away, Gran had moved in with them. Daddy had built an addition on to the house just so she’d feel as if she had her own space. As a kid, Rory’d always thought it was so far removed from the rest of the house. But now, as she tried to collect herself as best she could, she was grateful for the extra time it took to get there.
The main door to Gran’s space was ajar, opening to an unoccupied sitting area. Gran’s bedroom was just beyond, through a partially opened door, and Rory was about to step through when Nat’s voice rang out in the room.
“What can I mail you from my travels this year? Anything you’ve been itchin’ to get your hands on?”
“Just you, sugar plum.”
Nat laughed, the high, tinkling sound just as clear as if she were in that very room. “I’m serious.”
“So am I. It’d do this old lady a world of good just to see your pretty face this year. It’s been too long.”
“Gran, you see my pretty face once a week, every week. Have I ever missed FaceTiming with you?”
Once a week, every week? Rory should’ve made herself known immediately, because there she was, once again accidentally eavesdropping—okay, so the first time wasn’t so accidental, but this sure as hell was—and hearing things she didn’t want to. She’d known Nat had a video call with Will and Mac every week. Rory had made peace with the fact that it somehow never included her. But now to discover Nat carved out time to talk to Gran every week, too, when she couldn’t be bothered to return any of Rory’s texts or calls? Couldn’t seem to manage anything more than shooting off a once-a-year birthday text?
“Don’t get smart with me, missy,” Gran said. “Screens don’t count, and you know it. When are you gonna come home again? I’m not gonna live forever, you know. And if you don’t make it back before I kick the bucket, don’t think for a second I won’t haunt your ass every day for the rest of your life—doesn’t matter if you’re in Havenbrook or Havana. Location isn’t a match for a Southern woman with a grudge.”
Rory slipped out of the room just as Nat’s laughter once again filled her ears. She ducked into the guest bathroom down the hall, locked the door, and plopped down on the closed toilet seat, curling her hands into fists to stop herself from letting the emotions overwhelm her.
She didn’t even know why she was so upset. It wasn’t a secret that she and Nat didn’t get along, so why was she so hurt that her youngest sister wanted nothing to do with her? That Nat went out of her way to avoid having direct contact with Rory at all?
