Grasping Air (Flipped Book 2)

by Carrie Aarons

  “Hi, Mama, missed you.” Jared lets her go and turns to me. “Mom, this is Peyton … my wife. Peyton, this is my mother, Elizabeth Hargrove.”

  I take a step closer, feeling so overdressed in my heeled boots and off the shoulder, cropped gray sweater. “Hi, it’s so nice to finally meet you. Thank you for having me … us for Christmas.”

  It’s not necessarily judgment, but there is something guarded in her eyes as she weighs my appearance, my worth to her son. “Hi there, thank you for coming.”

  And then she holds out her hand. No hug for her new daughter, no show of love. Just a nice, cordial handshake.

  Shit. She hates me already.

  “Jared, my boy! Good to have you home.” An older, grayer Jared comes walking towards us, breaking up the awkward tension down on the front lawn.

  The rest of the family follows, the entire gaggle of them. Matthew, Jared’s dad, his two brothers Kyle (older) and Oliver (younger), and his three older sisters Maggie, Laura and Patricia. Maggie’s three children and her husband John are there too, as well as Laura’s toddler and her husband wife Tucker. It’s a massive amount of people for me to be assaulted with at once, and I think they’re all going to need to wear nametags for me to keep them straight.

  Jared laces his fingers through mine as we walk into the house, his brothers grabbing our suitcases from the car.

  “Kyle, bring Jared’s suitcase to his room. I’ve made up the guest room for Peyton, so you can bring her bag there.”

  I halt in the grass, as do several other members of the family. We’re married, there is nothing to hide and if we want to be really candid with my new mother-in-law, we weren’t exactly celibate before we got hitched.

  “No Mom, Peyton is my wife and I’m her husband. You allow all of your other married children to sleep in the same room under your roof, and we’ll be doing the same. Kyle, bring both bags to my room.”

  He squeezes my hand and I hold on for dear life. Jared is my lifeboat right now, because otherwise I’d be drowning.

  “How was the flight?” The sister with the brown hair, Maggie I think, asks me.

  “It wasn’t bad, but we’ve just been flying and traveling so much that I’m ready to be on settled footing for a little while.”

  She nods and turns to talk to her husband. I probably sound like a spoiled athlete, and now she doesn’t want to talk to me.

  I feel a tap on my shin. Looking down, one of Maggie’s little girls is peering up at me with big blue eyes.

  “Do you and Uncle Jared kiss?”

  Her question takes me back to the dinner with Ruby, the little girl who broke the ice on our frosty relationship with just a dare and a kiss.

  I bend down, smiling at her. “Only when we’re in private. What’s your name? I love your sneakers.”

  She kicks them so that they light up. “Grace Mythock. And you’re my Aunt Peyton, but Nana said I don’t have to call you that on account of you’re not really family.”

  Her childish ramblings puncture my heart, deflating the hope I had that Jared’s family might accept me as their own. No one hears Grace though, so I swallow back the surprising tears in my throat and tell her she can always call me whatever she wants before she skips away.

  The Hargrove house is a home … one like I’ve never been in before. There are school pictures of each child at many ages, framed and hanging on the wallpaper of the living room, which has an actual wood burning fireplace. There are rooster figurines on the kitchen counters, and a real wooden banister on the stairs that I just know the Hargrove siblings have slid down too many times to count. Between the dining room and hallway is a doorjamb with lines marking it up and down; the heights of each family member over the years. It’s a home like none I’ve ever lived in, and even though the people might be hostile, the house accepts me in like an old friend.

  “Come on up, I’ll show you my room,” Jared whispers in my ear and I can feel the smile on his lips.

  “I bet your childhood bed has never had a girl in it,” I tease on the way up. Everyone either dislikes me or is ignoring me, so I figure I’ll be my regular self instead of the nice-girl act I’d convinced myself I’d put on.

  “Actually, you’re right. This is a Christian household after all. My wife will be the first female to join me in it.”

  Even if I think religion is complete bullshit, it is kind of sweet that I’ll be the only girl to ever grace Jared’s childhood bed. Cresting the top of the stairs, we walk down a long hallway filled with doors until we come to the last one on the right, and he pushes it open.

  Blue. The walls, the comforter, the carpet … almost everything is blue.

  “So babe, what is your favorite color again?” I smile, walking in to examine the pictures stuck to a corkboard and trophies on a shelf over his desk.

  “Yeah, yeah … so I had a thing for the color blue. You’re getting a pure, unadulterated look into the mind of fifteen-year-old Jared Hargrove right here. Soak it up.”

  He wraps his hands around my waist and presses my back to his front as I examine faded Polaroids and snapshots of a young Jared in the gym. Another of him on homecoming court, and one of him with his arms slung around a group of guys. He had the normal, all-American childhood … a corn-fed boy who went to football games and went cow tipping with his friends.

  “Who’d have thought I’d end up with the prom king?” I lean back into him, and he kisses my temple.

  “Technically, it was homecoming. I was in training for the Olympics and couldn’t make it to prom my senior year of high school.”

  I roll my eyes and walk to my suitcase, busying myself by taking out a few of the sweaters and my toiletry kit.

  “So, it’s safe to say that you’re family isn’t thrilled about us getting married.” Elephant in the room promptly addressed.

  Jared sighs. “I know … I’m going to … talk to them.”

  Before I can nag him about it any further, Matthew calls up that dinner is ready. Great, time to face the real gauntlet.

  I slide into my seat at the twenty-person table and keep my mouth shut. Maybe the less I say, they less reason they’ll have to hate me.

  “So, Jared and Peyton, how was the wedding of the century?” Oliver starts just as the roast is being placed on the table.

  Fuck. Fuckity, fuck, fuck.

  Jared tries his luck first. “It was a small thing, we just wanted a quiet, spur of the moment type ceremony. But don’t worry, we plan to have a big celebration as soon as the tour ends.”

  Oliver nods, tucking into his plate, unaware of the damage he just caused.

  “It would have been nice to be there.” Laura passes the mashed potatoes as she looks pointedly at me.

  I want to scream that it was my brilliant husband’s idea, but think better of it. “Well, I have no family to speak of, and we were on tour so we thought we’d just get married. But I know how much you all mean to Jared, and I’d love to do something as a family to celebrate.”

  Elizabeth doesn’t drop it. “It was very upsetting not to get to see my son on his wedding day. Not to watch him take a wife, much less that it wasn’t in the church. People around here value that highly.”

  All of the criticism is grating on my nerves, so I just look down, spearing a few green beans.

  Jared lays a hand on my thigh, and it marginally lifts the funk I’ve sunk into. “I know you’re all upset about the choice we made, but Peyton is my wife now. She is a part of this family. And I love her very much. I hope over the next few days that you can all get to know her and love her too. Because we’re going to be together for the rest of our lives. You don’t get me without her.”

  The table is silent, everyone put in their places by my incredible husband. I’m a little embarrassed, but hopefully this will set things on a new path.

  Patricia, who is sitting next to me on my right side, clears her throat until I look at her. She winks, the first friendly gesture I’ve had from any of the Hargrove’s.

>   “I think we need to toast the newlyweds. To my brother, I’m so proud of you. And to Peyton, our new sister, may you find your place in this crazy, exclusive bunch. We love you both.” She raises her water glass and looks at everyone to do the same.

  “Cheers!” Matthew, who is at the head of the table, clinks his glass with hers.

  Hopefully if the head of the family can give us his blessing, the rest of his crew will follow suit.

  32

  Jared

  My family house is worn with love. It’s not my gleaming Dallas Condo, and it’s not the perfect shabby chic houses Peyton loves to see that one couple makeover on the home flipping network. It’s an old farmhouse with lived in couches, scratches on the hardwood, family pictures running up the stairs.

  It’s home, a place to come back to that reminds me of football in the front yard with my brothers and beef stew in the winter. And it never fails that I’ll find my mom in the kitchen at six in the morning, sipping her coffee while she reads the local paper.

  “Morning, Mama.” I squeeze one of her shoulders as I move past her, grabbing a mug from the cabinet and pouring myself a cup.

  “Hi, Bubba.” Her nickname for me. She’s never called me much else. “You want me to start breakfast?”

  My mom might have been a strict parent, but she was always loving. She raised our wild brood with what looked like the ease of simply standing up and sitting down. Elizabeth Hargrove hugged as much as she scolded, and never failed to hop to when one of us needed something. Even if we didn’t indicate or say it.

  “No, I’ll just sit here with you awhile. I actually … wanted to talk.” I braced myself for the frown that was coming.

  And … there it was, the downturn of her lips that left age lines running across her cheeks.

  “I’m reading the paper.” Avoiding. She probably knows what I want and doesn’t want to talk about it.

  “Well, I’m only here for a few days, maybe you could set it down for a second?”

  She sighs, folding the crinkly paper and setting it on the kitchen table. “What is it that you wanted to talk about?”

  Mom might have been able to pull this evading parent routine on me before and I would have chickened out, not brought up what I wanted. But I was older now, more weathered.

  “I’d like to give Peyton Grandma’s ring.” I don’t elaborate; just wait to see what she comes back with.

  “That ring is going to your brother, Jared.” She sips her coffee as if she hasn’t just shut me down. But with the use of my first name, I know she’s not happy.

  “I know that, I know he’s supposed to get it to give to his wife someday. But let’s face it, that’s not going to be soon. And I’m married. Now. I have a wife who I’d like to wear something from my family. It’s not like I don’t have the money to go buy her a big diamond ring. But I’d like to give her something with meaning, something that ties her into this family. Please, Mom … I’d like to have her wear Grandma’s ring.”

  Staring out the window to all of the land she owns, she sighs. “What … how did you pick a girl like her? She’s not like us, Bubba. I’ve … read things about her over the years. Why now? You never seemed interested in any of your USA teammates? I’m not sure she’s the one who should wear Grandma’s ring.”

  Her barbs thrown at Peyton sting me harder, every word feeling like a dagger to my heart. “Do you not trust me? Do you not realize the kind of man you raised? I love her … I’ve loved her for a long time. That’s why I never seemed interested in anyone. You don’t … you don’t even know her. Tabloids have written worse things about me over the years, do you believe them? Hell, Mama, I thought you were better than that. Don’t judge a book by its cover, and don’t judge my wife by what you might think she’s like. Actually get to know her!”

  By the end of my rant I’m jacked up, angry and almost spitting my words in the quiet of the kitchen. How dare she make assumptions on this woman she doesn’t even know.

  “Don’t say hell, Jared. Even if you’re grown there is no cursing under this roof.”

  “And don’t punish Peyton for my decision to marry her in Vegas. It was my decision, yes. You know I’ve always been the type of person to go hard for what I want and not give up once I put my mind to it. When I finally got Peyton to admit her feelings back to me, I wasn’t wasting anymore time. So don’t take that out on her. Don’t make her a villain.”

  In the silence that follows, the chickens in their pen start to squawk, and my parent’s golden retrievers Clint and Clyde wrestle in the early morning sun. I sit in angry quiet, begging my mother, without words, to give my wife a chance. I’ve never been one to seek too much encouragement from my family, at least not in gymnastics. But in this, in my marriage, I want her to accept and congratulate me more than I’ve probably ever wanted another thing from her.

  “You deprived us of a wedding.” She’s being stubborn.

  I turn to her, reaching a hand across the counter and laying it on hers. “I know, and I’m sorry for that. We will have a big reception wherever and whenever you like.”

  “You know I don’t like being left out of my children’s lives.” She’s upset. Still.

  “Mom, I know that. But, we are all grown up now. You have to let us make our own decisions, fail and succeed. We never aim to disappoint you, you know that. I love Peyton, and she loves me. We are building a life together, that has nothing to do with upsetting you.”

  There is a point in all mother-son relationships where a mother must let go, let him be a man. This has always been hard for my mom, mostly because she hasn’t really had to do it yet. Kyle and Oliver, they’re still in a twelve-year-old mindset, they love to let her baby them. I’m the one who struck out on my own, left the nest and learned to fly. I love her, but I don’t necessarily need her everyday now. I try to respect that as I reason with her.

  “I … know that. I’m sorry; it’s just been hard. To read on the internet that you got married? You know better Jared. I … I want to get to know Peyton better. I do. Let me think about the ring. I’m not saying no, but just let me be your mother for a little while longer. I didn’t even have time to process that another woman is now the first female in your life.”

  I nod, trying to understand where she is coming from. She’s hurt, but I also want that ring to give to my wife. I can’t ruffle her feathers too much.

  I get up, finishing off the rest of my coffee and setting my mug in the sink. Passing by the stool she sits on, I lean down and hug her.

  “Merry Christmas Eve, Mama.”

  33

  Jared

  I may be a twenty-six-year-old man, but Christmas is still as magical to me as it was when I was five.

  All of the Hargrove’s sleep under the same roof, every Christmas. Each child, spouse and grandchild packed into the rooms, sleeping bags or air mattresses filling the floors. Mom still puts out cookies for Santa and Dad pretends to make reindeer hoof noises for the little kids. Every inch of the house is decorated, twinkling lights and ornaments thrown over every surface.

  My arms are wrapped around a heavily-breathing Peyton, her body a furnace under the heavy down comforter laid over us. My twin bed is nowhere near ideal, but at least it forces us to sleep tangled up in one another.

  “Merry First Christmas,” I whisper in her ear, running a hand down her naked side to try and rouse her awake.

  She grunts, turning into me and burying her face in my pecs. “Go to sleep.”

  “Bah humbug.” I chuckle, leaning in to smell her honey-scented hair.

  “Do you people get up at the crack of dawn every morning? Jesus …”

  “Don’t let my mother hear you take the lord’s name in vain. And last time I checked, seven a.m. is not the crack of dawn. Especially when you’re celebrating Christmas with kids.”

  “Oh I know, your family is into their church. I’m surprised I didn’t melt in that pew last night. Or after what we did in here.”

  My cock twi
tches at just the mention of the early Christmas presents we gave each other last night. In the form of orgasms. Who knew that having to stay extremely silent during sex only intensified it more? And there is something sinful about impaling your wife in your childhood bed that made it hard to hold off coming.

  “I love you.” I tip Peyton’s chin up and kiss her until my cock is ready for another go round.

  A harsh knock on the door jolts both of us.

  “I’ve held off the hounds for as long as I can, but you’re either downstairs in five or the family is unwrapping without you,” Maggie yells through the door as excited pitter-patters of little feet storm the hallway.

  “Guess we better get a move on.” I grin and launch out of bed, grabbing the matching flannel pajamas Mom gave all of the boys last night.

  “Don’t you think you’re a little old to be matching PJs with your brothers?” Peyton sits up lazily, the sheet falling away and revealing her perfect, rosy red nipples.

  I stop buttoning the shirt and let the plaid material hang over my hips and biceps. “Are you complaining about this right now?”

  Her eyes heat and I have all the answer I need. “Good, now get up and put on your matching reindeer pajamas.”

  Mom loves doing a morning-of matching pajama photo, and bought Peyton a pair of her very own.

  “Does this mean your mom likes me?” She pulls her very naked, very sexy body into the black feetie pair of pants dotted with tiny white reindeer.

  I open the door when she has her top on. “I think it means she’s on her way. Just make sure to smile nice and big for the camera in your pajamas.”

  My foot collides with something on the floor when I go to walk out. Peyton is running a brush through her hair, dotting her eyes with that eye cream she puts on morning, noon and night. Bending down, I pick up the tiny green velvet box that just left an indent in the bottom of my bare foot.

  As soon as my fingers close around it, I know what it is. The breath gets stuck in my lungs, the significance of what this means so huge and yet all I’m doing is standing in my parent’s house in plaid pajamas. The jewelry box gives a little pop as the hinges go up, and there it is, my grandmother’s ring nestled between the velvet.