Jackson Stiles, Road to Redemption (Road to Redemption #1)(46)

“Yeah? And why’s that?” I’m not backing down, dammit.

“Because she doesn’t want you to.” He has a point, but still.

“If she’s not gonna stand up for herself, I am.”

“You think she’s gonna appreciate that, Jackie?” He smirks just enough to make it a dare.

“Move, Nick.”

“Nope.” He crosses his big ass arms as a double dare. I’m about to take him up on it when Nick’s eyes move from mine to something behind me. Or maybe I should say, someone.

Shit.

Green. And Mia.

Friggin’ sister-in-law.

Not that I’m scared of her, but the concerned look on Green’s face is enough to make me hit the pause button for now.

Odd.

I point up at my brother. “This isn’t over.”

He dips one eyebrow at me as if to say, whatever.

Ma calls out from the dining room. “Dinner’s ready. Come and get it!” I wonder if Dad even heard her, or if he gives a shit that she went to the trouble of dragging us here for him.

I take a glance up the stairs one last time, hoping he comes down so I can tell him off and hoping he doesn’t at the same time, so maybe we can get through dinner without a debate about who’s the shittiest human on the planet. Him or me.

Nick sweeps past me to get his favorite seat next to Mia. The boys come barreling through like a freight train. “Hi, Uncle Jackson!” they sing in unison. Behind them, Green steps in line with me.

“What was that all about?” she whispers. I shake my head as I take her hand and guide her into the dining room. I’m not in the mood for sharing and caring right now.

“Where’s the guy who gave you this?” I pull at her hand to show her the promise ring. She snatches it away and covers it up.

“Smells so good, Karen.” Mia has never missed a single opportunity to suck up to my mother in all the years I’ve known her. She’s good at it. Has been since the first date Nick took her on. She complimented Ma on the paintings she had hanging on the wall, and they’ve been BFFs ever since.

Whether Nick told her ahead of time that Ma painted them herself, back in the day when she used to be a little more artistic and a little less Betty Crocker, is debatable. He denies it, of course, but I have my f*cking doubts.

I’ve always had my f*cking doubts.

“Thank you, dear. It’s from that cooking show with Rachel Raymond.”

“Rachel Ray, Ma,” Nick corrects her, to which I have to laugh out loud because, “Really?”

“What?” He shrugs. “We watch her every weekend.”

“I love Rachel Ray,” Green chimes in. “Did you ever try her tuna casserole?”

“Oh my God.” Mia ceases with the shoveling of food onto her plate and sits down. “It is the best, right?” She’s getting giddy.

Danger, Will Robinson. And I ask again, what the f*ck is happening here?

“I made a couple batches last year and took them to the Ronald McDonald House. They loved it.” Green seems proud of her accomplishment. So does Ma.

“You volunteer over there?” Mia even more so.

“Yeah, I mean, not as much as I’d like to, but yeah. Sometimes, I drop off food.”

“I volunteer with them all the time.” Mia thinks hard. “We should drive over together sometime.”

Green smiles like she’s in kindergarten, making her first friend. “I’d like that.”

I am so confused right now.

“What?” Mia’s attention leaves Green and finds me as she challenges my accusatory expression to her bogus conversation.

“You don’t have enough buddies in Redemption? Jesus Christ f*cking A, Mia, give it a rest. She just got here.”

Green huffs. The boys make O's with their mouths and laugh. “Awe! Uncle Jackson’s in trouble!”

“Settle down.” I tell them in my authoritative voice, but honestly, they’re right. Ma’s now giving me the death stare I’ve always gotten when I was getting ready for a smack down from her.

“I think I’m capable of deciding who I am and am not allowed to associate with, Stiles.” If Green’s scowl isn’t enough to shut me the f*ck up, my mother’s is.

Mia nudges Nick and gives a nod toward our friendly neighborhood dinner crasher. “I like her.”

“Me too.” He says it low enough to make like he doesn’t want me to hear him but loud enough that he knows I totally heard that shit.

Me too. I do an exaggerated, silent impression of my brother, and everyone in the room laughs.

Funny group.

The moment is forgotten though when Ma passes me the potatoes. I pile them onto my plate like I’m not gonna eat again. She makes the best mashed potatoes in the tristate area. Not too smooth, not too lumpy. Lots of f*cking butter plus garlic and bacon.

Damn.

Smells good.

Maybe I do need to overlook my issues with Dad and make it over for dinner more often.

Green’s phone goes off a few times while everyone is getting grub. I chastise myself for wondering if it’s the *.

Why do I care?

“Who are you?”

And there goes the evening, ladies and gents.

Dad growls from the dining room doorway at, I have to assume, Green. She looks like a deer in headlights when she faces him. Unable to form a word to introduce herself.