I collect them like pieces of a puzzle.
I inspect them.
Sort them.
And place them where they belong.
Soon enough, I have something that resembles a bowl, and my mind is clear of all my unpleasant thoughts. I look up, catching all three of them rushing to pretend like they weren’t all just staring at me. Holden fiddles with my new desk, and Maggie grabs a broom while Big H smells an orchid. I clear my throat, and they all turn to me. I don’t wait for anyone else to speak because I’ve already mentally prepared what I want to say. “I don’t want you treating Tammy and Joseph any differently than you have been.” I focus on Holden. “Especially you.”
“Jamie, you can’t be serious.”
“I’m dead serious,” I say, my tone leaving no room for argument. “I understand that your first instinct is to protect me, and I love you for it, but I don’t need you to do that in this case. I don’t need you to be my hero.”
Moving toward me with his hands shoved in his pockets, he cracks a smile, saying, “You’re your own goddamn hero, baby. I’m just here for the ride.” He stops behind me, rubbing my shoulders as he leans over, kissing me quickly.
“And you two,” I say to Mags and Big H. “I appreciate you both so much. And I love you both more than you could ever know.”
“Awww, we love you, too, baby girl!” Maggie replies.
I fight back a smile. “I know that you don’t know everything yet, but I just need you to understand one thing. This is my trauma… and it’s my responsibility to heal from it. I don’t need other people fighting my battles.”
Maggie looks up at Big H as he lets out a long, drawn-out sigh. “We’re not other people, Miss Jamie.” Then, shaking his head, he adds, “We’re family.”
Family. It used to be such a strange concept to me, like home. And it didn’t even occur to me until right this moment that somehow, I’ve come to acquire both.
A family.
A home.
A life worthy—
Maggie snorts, bringing my attention to her. “We’re family,” she scoffs, her voice deeper to mock Big H. She looks up at her boyfriend, her eyes narrowed, nose scrunched. “Who do you think you are? Vin Diesel?”
Holden and I burst out laughing—such a contrast to our emotions only minutes ago. Only Maggie could turn something so heavy into something hilarious with a single wisecrack comment.
“You little shit!” Big H grabs Maggie around her waist from behind, lifting her off her feet.
Maggie’s giggle fills my heart with warmth as she kicks the air. “Let me go!”
Big H doesn’t let her go. In fact, he turns toward us. “Get the hose, son!”
“On it!” Holden yells, running to the greenhouse.
Maggie squeals while Big H carries her toward Holden, and then I’m on my feet, running to them. “I’ll protect you, Maggie!” I shout, blocking their path. I stand between them, legs and arms apart, and warn Holden, “Don’t you—” That’s as far as I get before he sprays me in the face.
I gasp.
Holden laughs.
Big H laughs.
And Maggie yells, “It’s war, bitches!”
Two minutes later, we have teams—Boys v Girls—and Maggie and I are grasping loaded water pistols and hiding behind the ferns. Clearly, we suck at this game. I turn to Maggie, who’s squatting down, looking out between the leaves. “Hey, Mags,” I whisper.
“Yeah?” she whispers back.
“Holden and I are getting married.”
She smiles wide, tilting her head up to look at me. “I know. I’m so excited for y’all!”
“So two things,” I say, and she stands to full height, nodding for me to continue. “Will you be my maid of honor?”
“Shut up!” she squeals, pushing on my shoulder. “Aw, Jamie. I would be honored!” She gives me a quick hug before pulling away, asking, “What’s the second thing?”
I pump the water pistol. “Well, once Holden and I are married, technically, Big H will be my Daddy.” I squirt her in the face when her mouth drops in shock, and then I run…
Not away…
But toward my future.
49
Jamie
“You’re late!” Jimmy calls when I open the massive sliding door to his studio.
A week or so after everything went down, Big H brought me here to talk about the steel legs we wanted for the resin desktop we’d created. The day Holden and I got engaged, I’d asked Big H when we could get started on it, and he jumped at the chance. I don’t know if it was because he felt sorry for me, or he knew that I needed the distraction, or if he was genuinely excited to do it. Probably all three. It’s become our little project—just him and me. From designing to going to the hardware store together, to building the frame and finally pouring the resin. The only thing he wanted me to do on my own was pick the flowers. He let me take anything I wanted from the nursery. He’s shown me how to use tools, where to prune the stems. He’s been so patient and kind, and I’ve loved every moment I get to spend with him.
Sparks fly from Jimmy’s welding gun as he continues with the blowtorch for a few more seconds before switching it off and lifting his goggles.
“Sorry,” I tell him, stepping inside. “I got caught up.” And by caught up, I mean Holden came home on his lunch break just as I was leaving and the only meal he was craving was me. I can still feel his hands, his mouth, touching and tasting me in places currently causing me to blush.
“You got any work for me to do?” I ask.
“Nah.” He jerks his head toward my workbench where I’ve started and stopped far too many projects in the weeks I’ve come and gone. “You just keep working on whatever you’re working on.”
When Big H brought me here the first time, I was so fascinated with the place, I didn’t want to leave. Jimmy said I could stay if I helped him out with a few tasks around the place, and that he would even pay me. I didn’t want his money, so we negotiated. For a few hours twice a week, he teaches me his craft, and I do whatever menial jobs need doing.
Personally, I consider it a win.
Sometimes we talk.
Sometimes we don’t.
Sometimes I help him hold things in place or polish his finished work.
And, sometimes, I’m just happy to be around him.
Today, though… today feels like a talking day.
I wait until he’s finished welding and ask, “Why do people call you Peg-leg Jimmy?”
He freezes mid-movement, and I think maybe I’ve overstepped. No one I’ve asked seems to know the reason, and I’ve been curious, but perhaps I should’ve kept my mouth shut.
Jimmy removes his helmet, his cheeks and forehead stained with oil and sweat. “Why do you ask?” he questions, removing his gloves as he pins me with his stare.
I lean back on my workbench, my head lowered. “I was just wondering,” I murmur. “You don’t have to answer.”
From the corner of my eye, I see him move, and so I lift my gaze, track him from his work area to the fridge, where he pulls out a beer and offers me one. I shake my head. He uncaps the beer, throws the cap in a bucket with a pile of other metal bottle caps he’ll no doubt do something with at some point. After a long swig, he keeps his eyes locked on me while he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “I love this town,” he starts, running a finger along a metal pipe. “If I didn’t, I would’ve left a long time ago. Too much talk. Too much gossip.” He heaves out a breath, his chest deflating beneath his overalls. “My mama was young when she had me. Fifteen. She was slow… intellectually, I mean. She died during childbirth, and my grandparents raised me. They lived on this property until they died. They didn’t much like socializing and kept to themselves, mainly because people in town would make fun of my mama. So, I guess the townsfolk considered them odd. Everyone always treated my family like outcasts, and it’s trickled down to me.”