Page 67 of Elite Player
Jo fixes her hair, tosses me one nervous look, and I squeeze her hand, hoping to communicate my confidence and support. We’ll get through this.
I exit my car with a staredown to Waylon. He’s got an inch or two on me, but he’s built like a beanstalk. He puffs out his chest, placing one hand on his belt, close to his handgun, as if that’ll scare me.
It won’t.
I’m only scared of bears and Uncle Randy, not some douchebag with a terrible haircut and horrible taste in women.
“What are you doing here?” Jo asks Waylon, accepting my hand when I hold it out to her, linking our fingers together.
“Off work. Came to see Lizzie.” He flicks his eyes toward me because he’s not here for Lizzie. I can only guess the entire Atkins clan has been waiting for Jo to arrive, and this guy is no different. Especially when he tells me, “I’m surprised you showed up.”
I tilt my head, feigning true concern. “Oh? Why?”
He works his jaw, obviously having trouble answering. To admit he’s a dick who doesn’t think Jo and I could or should be together like her family believes, or that he’s a jealous twat because I’m with the girl he tossed aside.
What to do? What to do?
In the end, he doesn’t do anything, merely nods at Jo then pivots on his heel and heads into the house. I grab our bags from the back and curl my arm around her shoulders with a kiss to her temple. “Are you sure you don’t want to stay in a hotel?”
“I already told you, it would make everything harder with my mom. Wehaveto stay here.”
Technically, we don’thaveto do anything. Jo’s an adult and can make her own decisions, and I’d be more than happy to tell everyone to fuck off, but I understand Jo isn’t there yet. So, I nod along and follow her inside.
We’re greeted with dark wood paneling and ducks. Everywhere. Mallard pictures, mallard lamp, mallard pillows. There’s even amallard statue of sorts which acts as a small side table, holding a plant on top of it in front of a window. The man who I assume is Jo’s father stands from a plaid recliner in the corner. “Hi, Josephine.”
“Hi, Dad,” she says, accepting a quick hug from him before she motions to me. “This is Nico.”
“Your fiancé,” he says, and I remove my baseball cap before shaking his hand.
I grin, proud. “That’s right.”
“Who didn’t ask me first.”
According to Jo, Ron Atkins has been a father to her in name only. Doing the absolute bare minimum. Everything she’s told me about him reminds me of my father, the only difference is income. My dad developed real estate, while Ron is the manager at a mail processing center. They’re both workaholics under the guise of caring for their families, but really, they work so much to get away from the responsibility of caring for them.
Ron sweeps his gaze over me then says no more, sitting right back down. “I’m tired, so can you go ask your mom when dinner’ll be ready?”
“Sure.” Jo leads me to the kitchen, where Tonya sweeps around to us, a big smile on her face and a spoon in her hand.
“There you are. I’ve been waitin’ and waitin’.”
“Took the long way,” Lizzie adds, popping the top on a Coke before handing it to Waylon.
Tonya kisses Jo’s cheek and then mine. “Nice to see you again, Nico.”
“You as well.” Though, I don’t let go of Jo. I don’t allow her to move more than an arm’s length away from me as she greets her sister.
As Tonya peppers us with questions about our drive down and orders about how Jo will be sleeping in Lizzie’s and her old room while I’ll take the couch in the living room, I note Waylon staring daggers at me. Lizzie merely taps away on her cell phone.
“Dad wants to know when dinner’ll be ready,” Jo says, her accent suddenly flooding back, and I smile into her hair.
“As soon as Danny and Bobbi Jo get here. Lizzie, go set the table.”
“Me? Why do I have to do it? Bucky should do it. She’s?—”
“She will clean up the table. You can go set it.”
Lizzie huffs, shouldering Jo on her way out, and Tonya is either blind to how her children treat Jo, or she doesn’t care. Either way, she’d probably get along great with my mother.
