Pull You In (Rivers Brothers Book 3), стр. 56
I guess it never occurred to me during my marriage that my husband should have always been on my side.
"What are you thinking?" Rush asked, glancing over at me when we stopped at a red light. "The whole truth, not the half story," he clarified, knowing I had a tendency to sugar-coat things, to tip-toe around the true issues.
"I was just thinking about how my ex's mother used to treat me badly, and how he never said anything to try to stop it."
"We've established he's a dick," Rush agreed. "But I'm figuring this has less to do with him and more to do with you being worried about meeting Helen. I won't lie to you. If she thinks you're not the one, she probably won't be shy in saying that. That said, no one has ever brought someone serious to one of her dinners and had Helen say anything angsty. And beside that, I can't think of a single world where someone would talk shit about my woman in front of me, and I would stand there like a pussy and say nothing. That's not how this works. I know we're new, baby," he went on, giving my thigh another squeeze, "so I get why you don't just know this shit already. But it is my plan to get you to that level of trust in me."
"I trust you," I insisted. I did, too. Possibly more than I trusted anyone except my mother.
Maybe a big part of that was his ability to communicate his needs clearly, never sulking in a bad mood, refusing to tell me what was on his mind. I always knew where I stood with him. That sense of balance was refreshing. And it made it impossible to feel like the foundations were shaky, never forcing me into a panic mode.
The other part was likely his ability to read me, to accept me with all my many flaws. And even, not to see them as flaws at all.
"Never had to fight my own brain day in and day out, baby," he'd told me one night in bed. "That's got to be the most gangsta shit ever."
"It's going to be loud," he warned me again as we pulled up to the house, a sprawling home on lush green grounds, a few straggling yellow and red leaves littering the driveway and front walk, crunching under our feet as we got out of the car.
I wanted to tell him that it was okay, that I would be fine. But I learned not to make promises I couldn't keep when it came to how a situation was going to impact my mental health.
I hoped it would be fine, that I would find the racket charming and homey. But I also knew there was the potential for it to overwhelm me, to stress me out. I might need to excuse myself to the bathroom or the back porch to take a few calming breaths, get myself back together before I went into the thick of it again.
I figured this family would be understanding.
They'd welcomed Ryan's wife, Dusty, with open arms, never seeming to judge her for her anxiety issues.
"Helen's going to like that you cook," he added, squeezing my hand as we made it to the back door just as it burst open, sending a group of kids flying out, knocking into us as they squealed.
"Trial by fire," Rush told me, smiling. "It will be quieter now. There are more older kids right now than younger ones. They'll probably be inside sulking that Helen won't let them fuck around on their phones during Sunday dinner."
"There she is. The Crêpe Queen!" Atlas declared as soon as we moved into the living room, beaming over at me, light, carefree. I'd forced Rush to drop him off some extra crêpes when I'd made Rush his entire smorgasbord of them.
He'd paid me back by making a drawing of a six-hundred-pound him, surrounded by piles of empty plates.
Apparently, landscapes weren't his only forte.
I kept the picture, mostly because Rush wanted to take it and get it shrunk down to fit on a birthday card to give back to him next year.
I didn't pretend to understand brotherly love, but it seemed to have a lot to do with teasing the hell out of one another.
"Hey!" a voice called, coming into the room with multi-colored hair and tattoos. "How's the vibrator?" she asked, making Rush glance over at me, brows raised, as Atlas tried to stifle a laugh with a cough.
"I, uhm, what?" I asked, shaking my head.
"Fee. She gave you the vibe, right? That's a good one. I mean it has nothing on the little butterfly one you can wear hands-free, but it's good."
"I, ah, I haven't tried it," I told her, feeling my face heat up.
"Oh, that's right. You're in the 'oh your dick is as good as any battery-operated device' stage still, right?" she asked, whacking Rush on the arm.
"This is Peyton, in case that wasn't infinitely clear already," Rush introduced the woman whose reputation preceded her. "Peyton, Katie."
"Yep. And she's ours now," Peyton said, reaching out to grab my free arm, pulling me away from Rush. "Go on. The guys are checking out Charlie's new TV."
With that, I was pulled along with Peyton as Rush shot me an apologetic look.
He'd warned me they would take me. It sounded downright cult-ish when he'd first said it. The reality was, I was pulled through to the kitchen where all the women were gathered around. Some stood at the oversize island, breaking green beans or slicing up broccoli. Others were sitting at the table, making desserts, sugar and flour all over the table, the floor, and themselves.
Others still were in front of the stove, stirring and checking inside.
"Kate!" Fiona greeted, waving a