Old Fashioned - Becker Brothers

Her bottom lip trembled, and Sydney glanced at me with caring concern before she smiled at my mom. “You know what? I would actually love a little tour of your garden, if you wouldn’t mind? I saw the beautiful violas and pansies out front, and Jordan said you have a garden in the back.”

Mom shifted her weight, glancing up at me before a small smile bloomed on her face. “That’s where all the squash came from, and the pumpkin.”

“You have a pumpkin patch?” Sydney shook her head. “Now you have to show me.”

At that, a genuine smile found Mom’s lips, and she patted Mallory on the back. “Alright. You ladies let me know if you need me, I’m going to take Sydney for a garden tour.”

They all smiled at her, and I mouthed thank you to Sydney as they passed by me, headed out the front door.

As soon as Sydney was gone, all four pairs of female eyes were on me.

I inwardly groaned, knowing this was coming. Mom hadn’t said much when I asked if Sydney and Paige could join us for the holiday. I’d proposed it under the pretense that it was Paige’s first Thanksgiving since the divorce, and that Sydney’s family lived in Texas, and that we had grown a friendship since she started working for the school. I’d mentioned how I’d been training Paige for football camp next summer, and that I knew they’d fit right in.

I knew Mom didn’t buy my story, but she’d smiled knowingly and not asked a single question — bless her.

My brothers’ significant others and Mrs. Betty Collins on the other hand…

“So,” Kylie said, one eyebrow cocked. “Seems Mikey and I have missed a lot since our move to New York. Care to fill us in?”

Mallory and Ruby Grace exchanged looks before their smiles grew, Betty tapped a dirty spoon on the palm of her hand, and all of them waited for me to answer.

Just then, a roar of cheers and groans came from the living room.

I hooked a thumb over my shoulder. “Sounds like the game’s getting good, I better go see.”

“Jordan Becker!” Ruby Grace chided, throwing the top of a cut up celery stalk at me. “Don’t you dare leave without spilling the tea.”

I dodged the greenery and smiled, making a notion like my lips were sealed before I ducked out of the kitchen to the tune of four dramatic huffs.

I chuckled, knowing they would all be in there going crazy trying to figure out what Sydney and I were, but they knew by now that I was not the kiss-and-tell type. I wasn’t the anything-and-tell type. I preferred to keep my private life just that — private.

At least, that’s what I kept telling myself.

I rounded into the dining room, glancing out the front door where Sydney stood in the front yard with my mom. Mama was bent down, showcasing something as Sydney leaned over and nodded, her brows pinched in concentration.

And my heart pinched at the sight.

That’s when I realized that while it wasn’t out of the ordinary that I didn’t want to talk to the girls about Sydney, that wasn’t what had my chest tight.

It was that I wanted to talk about her.

Hell, I wanted to talk to everyone about the woman, and that was completely opposite of who I’d always been. The truth was if I had it my way, I’d likely talk more than I had in my entire life if I had the chance to tell someone, anyone, about the time Sydney and I had spent together.

But here we were, two months in, and the truth was I didn’t know where we stood.

Until I met Sydney, I’d avoided dating with the general consensus that love was dangerous, and when you engaged in a relationship with someone, you put yourself and, maybe more importantly, them at risk. I’d watched my friends’ parents go through divorce, watched my brothers break hearts and even get theirs broken in return, and above it all, I’d seen the unbreakable love my parents shared shattered by tragedy.

And maybe deep down, I’d always been afraid I wouldn’t know what to do if I ever found “the right woman.” I didn’t know if I could treat her the way my father had treated my mother, if I could put her first, be patient and caring and kind.

With Sydney, it was effortless.

I treated her like gold because in my eyes she was. I didn’t have to try to care about her, to put her first, to love her.

I did it all because it was as if there was no other choice, and all my life I’d been preparing for this moment with her.

My chest tightened again, because though I was fairly certain that I wouldn’t be the one to hurt her, I didn’t have a shred of assurance that she wouldn’t do the same to me. Not because she wanted to — but because I swung into her life when I knew things were complicated, when I knew she wasn’t ready, and when I knew we had an army of circumstance working against us.