Chapter 46

CHAPTER 46

MARLOW

I was nervous. I didn't need to be. I was going home, something I had done a hundred times before. But this time there was going to be some tension. I had texted Mom and let her know I was bringing Spencer home with me. She was of course overjoyed at the idea.

I slowly packed my suitcase, tossing in casual clothes and one of my favorite sweaters. That was the good thing about going home. I didn't have to impress anyone. I didn't have to shove my body into shapewear or wear heels that pinched my feet.

I got to be me.

I carried my suitcase to the front door and checked the time. Spencer insisted on driving, which I was fine with. I unplugged the coffeemaker and made sure everything was turned off while I waited for him to arrive.

The knock on the door brought me out of my musings. I opened it to find Spencer leaning casually against the door frame. He was dressed in a casual shirt and dark jeans, making him look handsome in an effortless way. His hair was slightly tousled, as if he'd run his fingers through it more than once.

"Ready?" he asked, his voice steady although I could see the subtle signs of nerves playing at the corners of his mouth.

"As ready as I'll ever be," I replied with a small smile. "Shall we?"

I reached for my suitcase, but he took it, holding it while I locked up and set the security alarm. I wasn't worried about anyone breaking in, but if I had it, I may as well use it. With my apartment secured, we moved toward his car. He opened the door for me, a small courteous act that made my heart flutter.

"Wow," I said, sinking into the seat that wrapped me in heat.

He looked over at me and grinned. "Good?"

"This is like…" I shook my head, trying to describe the feeling. "Well, I imagine this would be what it felt like to sit in a tub of warm butter without the grease."

He burst into laughter. "That's a, uh, unique way to put it."

"Seriously, I'm going to fall asleep. I have heated seats in my car, but this is so much better and softer."

"I wanted to make sure you were warm," he said as he pulled away from the curb. As he maneuvered into traffic, I found myself watching him out of the corner of my eye. The way he leaned back in the seat, one hand on the wheel, the occasional glance he gave me as if making sure I was okay. I was so snug and cozy. It was a warm hug, lulling me into an easy contentment.

I caught myself drifting off more than once. The sound of his voice brought me back to the present.

"So, what should I expect from Thanksgiving dinner?" he asked. "Do I need to be prepared for Rhett?"

The prospect of seeing Rhett again had my stomach in knots. "I don't think so," I replied. "Promise me you won't bring anything up about what happened in front of my parents. I doubt Rhett is going to bring it up. I would just prefer we swept it all under the rug. I don't want to worry them unless we absolutely have to."

He nodded. "I won't. Trust me, I'll follow your lead on all that."

"Thank you." I smiled. I trusted him to keep the peace. He respected my parents too much to stir up drama.

When we pulled up to my parents' house, the familiar sight made me smile. I loved coming home. I knew a lot of people my age dreaded it, but not me. I loved Stone Ridge. One day, I could see myself living here with my own young family to raise.

My dad was outside when we pulled up. He waved enthusiastically. "Jodie, they're here!" I heard him shout.

My mom stood at the door with a bright smile, a dish towel flung over her shoulder. There was smoke rising from the chimney, promising a cozy fire inside. I opened the door to get out.

"Welcome home!" Dad boomed, pulling me into a hug before turning to Spencer. "Good to see you, son."

"Good to see you too, Mr. Graylan," Spencer said, shaking my dad's hand firmly.

"What's that?" My dad laughed. "You call me Klaus. Don't start being formal now."

"Sure thing, Klaus," Spencer replied with a bright smile.

I didn't see Rhett and wondered if he was purposely making himself scarce or if he wasn't coming. If he didn't show up for Thanksgiving, that would cause serious drama.

As soon as we stepped inside, my dad cracked a beer for Spencer. "Come on, I've been tinkering away on my old Indian motorcycle. You've got to see it."

Spencer paused, glancing at me and then Mom. "Anything I can help with first?"

She shooed him away. "It's all under control. Go on, enjoy yourselves."

Spencer nodded and followed my dad outside.

"I'm going to put my bag upstairs," I said.

I quickly went up, noticing Rhett's bedroom door was open, which likely meant he was here somewhere. When I walked into the kitchen, I spotted Rhett on the back porch with Shoop. He looked up, and our eyes met briefly before he looked away.

"What can I do to help?" I asked.

Rhett came inside with Shoop trailing behind. Shoop sniffed around, hopeful for scraps, and then he smelled me and came in for some pets. The familiar scent of roasting turkey and freshly baked pie filled the air.

"I just need to make the sides," Mom said. "Rhett, Spencer is out with your dad. Go say hi."

He nodded and shuffled off without saying anything. I washed my hands and put on one of her stained aprons. She handed me a knife and instructed me to chop vegetables.

"It was sweet of you to invite Spencer," she said. "He's always been such a good boy. Troubled, but good under all those layers he's built over the years. You know?"

"I'm starting to," I admitted. Layers was right. Spencer revealing new facets of himself every day.

I thought more about his attitude. My mom had known him for a long time. She would have an adult perspective.

"Mom, was he always so angry as a teenager? Did he cause problems? Get into mischief?"

Mom laughed as she chopped pecans for her famous sweet potatoes. "Spencer? Oh, yes. He dragged Rhett into his messes, too. He was a wild child sometimes—drinking at parties with older kids, stealing his parents' car for joy rides, getting into fights all the time. Your father had to talk some sense into him."

I paused, a carrot half-peeled in my hand. "He did?"

"Didn't you know?" Mom asked, surprised.

I shook my head, curious. "What happened?"

Mom smiled, lost in the memory. "One day, Klaus took Spencer out to the very shop they're in now, sat him down, handed him a wrench, and got him to help with the old Mustang he was restoring. While they worked, your father told Spencer all about what it meant to be a good man, and how good men don't happen by accident."

"They happen on purpose," I said, recalling my father teaching me the same lesson about good women. "Good people make good choices."

"That's exactly what your father told Spencer," she said, nodding. "He was going down a bad road, and his own daddy didn't give a hoot, but your father?" She was full of pride as she recalled the memory. "He knew Spencer's heart. He knew all he needed was for someone to tell him they believed he could be better. Your father told him he could use that moment to wipe the slate clean and choose his own path or stay the same course and see where he ended up."

I was captivated, picturing the scene. Imagining Spencer young and defiant but also respectful. I always remembered him being very respectful if not a little cocky.

"And look at him now," Mom continued. "A man with his own legacy, who made something of himself. He should be proud."

"He's lonely, Mom," I said softly. "He's really, really lonely."

Jodie looked at me with a hint of knowing in her eye. "Is that right?"

"Yeah," I said, a feeling of sadness washed over me. "He's lonely. He doesn't exactly say it, but you can see it in his eyes, the way he talks about his life. It's like something is missing."

Mom looked at me for a moment with that softness mothers have when they know more than they let on. "Sometimes, it takes someone special to help a person realize they're not alone. It could be a friend, or someone a little more…" She trailed off, giving me a meaningful look before returning her focus to the pecans.

"How are things here?" I asked, shifting the subject away from Spencer. I could tell it was turning into dangerous territory. I did not want to talk about my relationship with him. I barely knew what my relationship was with him. It was better to just leave things alone for the moment. If something changed, we would have the conversation but there was no point in causing drama if I didn't have to.

"Well, you know how things are," Mom said with a sigh, setting down her knife and wiping her hands on the apron. "Your father is still working too hard, and Rhett, well, Rhett is just being Rhett."

She had no idea how much Rhett was just being Rhett. "Carrots are done," I said. "What next?"

"Can you peel the potatoes?"

"Of course."

The kitchen was filled with the comforting sounds of clinking dishes, sizzling pans, and Shoop's occasional whine for a treat. The warmth of the stove and the love in the room made everything feel like it used to—safe, secure, and happy. The smell of the turkey in the roaster was making me hungry.

Eventually, the men came back inside, laughing and making easy conversation. Spencer was keeping his word and not spilling the beans about what Rhett did. Rhett seemed content to leave it alone for now, too. They all seemed to be getting along, which was a relief. They were acting like they were best friends. Looking at Rhett and Spencer, one would never know what had happened.

Dad came in, inspecting dishes covered in foil on the counter. Mom slapped his hands. "Not yet. Go away."

"I'm hungry," he pouted.

"You're always hungry," Mom replied, playfully swatting at his hands again with a dishtowel. "Why don't you make yourself useful and set the table?"

With a good-natured roll of his eyes, Dad started to gather up the plates and silverware. I watched him from across the room, appreciating how he took my mother's ribbing with a smile. Rhett came through the doorway then, brushing off the last remnants of the cold from outside. Spencer was right behind him.

"Can we help?" Spencer asked.

"Rhett, take Spencer to the garage and look for the extra leaf for the table," Mom instructed.

"Sure thing," my brother said, and they headed to the garage.

"I think we have enough food here to feed an army," I joked.

"I just wanted to make sure we had enough for everyone," she said. "And I wanted everyone to have their favorites."

"It looks amazing," I said. "I can't wait to eat that pumpkin pie. I crave it all year."

"Just remember to save room for it," Mom said, giving me a knowing look. "You always make that second plate too big, and every year you regret it."

"I always do," I replied, grinning widely. "I blame you for making everything so delicious."

Spencer and Rhett returned a short while later with the leaf for the table, and we all pitched in to set it up under Dad's direction. Soon enough, Mom's good plates, polished silverware, and sparkling glasses were placed around the table.

"And now, the final touch," Mom announced with a flourish as she retrieved a bouquet of autumn flowers from the refrigerator. She placed it in the center of the table, adding a pop of vibrant color to the spread.

I almost took a picture but resisted. "It's perfect, Mom. Good job."