Page 63 of Attraction & Repulsion

Shirley painted the pie’s crust with butter, then took it to the dining room as Carson stood in the kitchen rocking Elizabeth back and forth. Wanting to do at least something, she grabbed the pitcher of iced tea with one hand, walked into the dining area, and sat it next to a bowl full of salad on the table.

Shirley leaned through an archway that led to the front living room. “Dinner is ready.”

One by one, the family shuffled in. The twins zoomed past Carson and hopped into their chairs with Marlo behind them. A guy, who reminded Carson of a younger version of Beau, only his brown hair was shorter and styled with gel and his lips free of scars, came in from the living room. So did a young girl with rosy cheeks and golden-brown hair. Carson guessed they were Jax’s younger brother Wyatt and his fiancée, Emily. They took their seats, not noticing her standing off to the side.

Jaxcame in last and found Carson with Elizabeth fast asleep on her chest. His eyes fell to the baby and back up to her. A corner of his lips pulled to one side, in a smile.

A tugging in Carson’s heart reminded her of the final truth she had been harboring from him. The time was coming nearer to finally tell him about her infertility. She could feel it.

“I can take her so you can eat,” Billy offered, interrupting her thoughts.

“I don’t mind,” Carson insisted.

Billy smiled with understanding and sat down.

It seemed only appropriate that the family said grace before they dug in. Because that’s what people in the south did, right? Carson hadn’t grown up religious. Other than using His name when she was upset, Carson’s mother never mentioned God. Carson eyed the large metal cross on the wall before closing her eyes for the prayer and again breathing in Elizabeth’s scent.

“Jax, did you introduce your brother to Carson?” Shirley asked after they had said amen.

Jax shook his head, having just taken a huge bite of chicken filling.

Shirley’s lips bunched together for a second, disapproving. “Wyatt is the youngest of my boys. And Emily is his beautiful fiancée. They’re currently going to the University of Memphis.”

“Why Tennessee?” Carson asked.

“It’s where I’m from,” Emily explained. Her voice reminded Carson of the mice fromCinderella, small and squeaky.

“We’re studying business accounting,” Wyatt said. “U of M is a nationally ranked school with a higher-than-average percentage to graduate and find a career in your area of study.” The way he spoke reminded Carson of an almanac.

A roll flew across the table and bounced off the far wall.

“Boys,” Billy scolded, cutting off the twins’ giggling.

“I want to know how the two of you met,” Marlo interjected, pointing her fork at Jax and Carson.

“At a softball tournament. I knocked her out with a door,” Jax said.

“You knocked her out?” Beau echoed.

Carson rolled her eyes. “Jax likes to embellish. All he did was open the door, and I was on the other side. I did not lose consciousness at any point in time.”

“But he did hit you with a door?” Billy pressed.

“I was in one of the locker rooms, running late. I threw open the door, and it slammed right into her,” Jax elaborated. “It hit her hard enough that it split her head open.”

Shirley choked on her food. “Jax Henry Miller, I have taught you better.”

“It was a complete accident. I was totally fine,” Carson added hastily.

“She had to get stitches,” Jax continued, moving Carson’s hair out of the way to look at her scar. Then he lowered his hand so his thumb could lightly stroke her cheek. “I still feel awful about it.”

“You should,” Beau quipped.

Jax dropped his hand onto the table. “We kept seeing each other at different events after that. Then I learned she had a dirt bike, so we went out riding, and the rest is history.”

Beau’s ears perked up. “You ride dirt bikes? I like you even more now.”

After dinner, Carson followed Jax up the stairs, passing more crosses andmismatched photographs hanging on the wall. She made a mental note to study every single picture before she left to learn more about his family history.

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