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“Fat chance of that.”
Jameson raised a brow. “You still can’t cook, can you?”
I waved a hand at him. “I’m too busy working.”
He frowned. “Everyone needs to eat.”
“Can you cook?” I asked him.
“I can do the basics. After…” He cleared his throat. “We all pitched in to help. Although Daphne ended up being the best cook of any of us.”
“You can say it. After Mom died.” The familiar guilt and shame washed over me. I was nineteen when Mom died. I missed her illness because I’d selfishly stayed in school. I left my younger siblings to handle that and the aftermath. Even after she’d died, I hadn’t moved closer to help. I’d stayed away.
I’d justified it to myself because Teddy had switched to a college closer to home. But Daphne was the youngest; she shouldn’t have been the one cooking for a large family.
Jameson winced slightly at my comment but didn’t say anything. He was generally easygoing and happy. Not much got him down.
I knew they avoided saying Mom’s name because no one wanted to bring up memories or trigger my dad. But I was tired of tiptoeing around the past. Still, the guilt was never far away. “I’m sorry, Dad. I shouldn’t have said anything.”
Dad shook his head. “It’s fine. You can say her name. I won’t break down.”
I reached over to squeeze his hand.
“It’s good to have you back,” Dad said gruffly.
“It would be even better if Axel and Ryder could make it home,” Jameson grumbled.
“Axel doesn’t have leave?” I asked them as Dad poured coffee grounds into the machine.
Dad shrugged. “He almost never has it over Christmas.”
“Axel’s life is controlled by the military,” Jameson added.
I remembered Aiden telling me the same thing when he’d broken off our relationship. He hadn’t wanted my life to be dictated the same way his would be.
“And you know Ryder; his wife wants to spend every holiday with her family,” Jameson said dryly.
“That doesn’t seem fair.”
“Some men get married, and they are absorbed into their wife’s family. It’s not his fault,” Dad continued, referencing Ryder and his situation. We’d talked at length about Ryder and his wife, Stacy, how we never saw his daughter even though she was eight.
Jameson braced his hands on the counter. “How is it not his fault? He should tell her it’s our turn. Besides, I want to see my niece every once in a while.”
I loved that Jameson seemed to be a family man. I hadn’t been around for his teen years, so I’d missed his maturing. All I knew about him was that he lived in the apartment above the garage, worked as a firefighter, and was perpetually a kid at heart.
“I feel like we barely know her,” Jameson added.
“Ryder said they’re close to the grandparents on that side. It’s nothing personal. You guys are going to grow up and move on. Not everyone is going to stick close to home,” Dad said reasonably.
I certainly hadn’t.
Jameson’s jaw tightened. “It would be nice if they visited. Izzy should have a relationship with her cousin.”
“I agree with you, but we can’t control what other people do. All we can hope for is that Ryder comes around at some point. That he sees what he’s missing out on.”
Jameson grabbed a glass and filled it with water. “By the time Ryder comes to his senses, Faith will be eighteen. It’ll be too late.”
“Whenever he comes back, we’ll welcome him. Faith will always be a member of this family. This year, we have Fiona at home, and we see Izzy often. We have a lot to be thankful for.”
