The Ransome Brothers Read online

  “I love frozen waffles.”

  I gesture at his chair. “Well sit down and eat before it gets cold.”

  We take turns holding the baby while we eat. “We make a pretty good team,” Daltrey says as I pass Rose over so I can cut my waffles.

  I nod, contemplative. “We’re keeping our heads above water. Everyone always says these first few months are the hardest.”

  Daltrey watches me over the baby’s head. “Were you serious about getting stir crazy?”

  “A little. Don’t get me wrong, I love this bubble thing we have going. But I wouldn’t mind getting out of the house a little.”

  “Should we go somewhere today?” I just grin at him and I can see the moment it hits him. “The special day wasn’t just about breakfast, was it?”

  “Not hardly,” I say. “I have a lot of plans for the day.”

  “You wanna tell me what they are?”

  I shake my head, smile deepening. “Nope.”

  “Well, Daisy, you’ve never once led me wrong.” He reaches over and takes my free hand. “I guess I’m at your mercy then.”

  I lean over to kiss him. “Just the way I like you.”

  * * *

  Getting out of the house with a nine-week-old is something of a feat. Daltrey’s nervous about packing her diaper bag—what if Rose needs something we hadn’t thought of?

  “She’ll be fine,” I say, trying to keep my voice calm—I don’t have a lot of patience for his over-the-top worrying when it comes to our daughter. Don’t get me wrong, he’s cute and everything, the way he’s so invested in her. But sometimes it’s a little much. “She needs diapers, clean clothes, and food, Daltrey.” I point at myself. “The food part is taken care of. And I think the seventeen pairs of diapers and five outfits you packed will be plenty. We’re going out for a day, we’re not traveling to the other side of the world.”

  His face tightens at my words, and I know right away what he’s thinking about. We haven’t talked about touring in a long time but we both know it’s something we’re going to have to start thinking about sooner or later. Assuming he and his brothers can get their shit together.

  Once Daltrey is satisfied that we have everything we could possibly need—and I’ve sighed, loudly, more than a dozen times—we set off in the Jeep towards Nashville. It’s a sunny day, the temperature in the mid-sixties, and I’m glad we don’t live in Ohio anymore. Daltrey would probably have a heart attack if he had to take Rose anywhere in the snow or ice.

  “Babe,” I say after a few minutes. “It’s going to take us hours to get there at this rate.”

  “These roads are twisty,” he argues.

  “You’re going fifteen!”

  He sighs, increasing his speed a bit, ignoring me as I grumble about what a ridiculous human I have to deal with.

  Daltrey’s phone rings, the car’s bluetooth system showing the info on the touch screen in the dashboard.

  “Your dad,” I say, voice soft.

  “Press decline.”

  “Dalt, you’re going to need to talk to him at some point.”

  “Not today.”

  I don’t respond, but I don’t press decline either.

  “Daisy.”

  “This isn’t right,” I say in a rush. “All of you spread out around the country, not talking to each other.”

  “I talk to at least one of my brothers every damn day. Usually all of them.”

  “And are any of you talking to your dad?”

  He doesn’t answer. I know they aren’t—except for Lennon, maybe. Which is sort of ironic, considering the reason they’re all so mad.

  “Look,” I start, but Daltrey cuts me off. The phone has stopped ringing now.

  “We all just need some space, Daisy. There are a lot of angry feelings right now. It’s not going to last forever.”

  I sigh, looking out my window. “I hope not.”

  “It won’t. Just give it time.”

  I let the silence settle for a long moment before speaking again. “I just hope you all remember how much he needs you.”

  Daltrey snorts. “Needs the work, you mean.”

  I try to tell from his expression if he really believes that or if it’s just the anger talking. “No, Daltrey. He needs you. All of you.”

  “Dais, you’re the most perceptive person I know. And you know my family better than anyone. Maybe even better than the people in it. But I’m having a hard time imagining my father as a person who needs anyone.”

  “Daltrey.”

  “Can we drop it?” he asks. “I’ll call him, I promise. But today…” he reaches over for my hand. “I just want to enjoy you guys today. Can we do that?”

  Well how can I argue with that? I lift his hand to my lips, kissing his knuckles. “That’s the plan.”

  Daltrey

  Daisy’s plan starts out in downtown Nashville. Once we’re parked in a structure, I help her to get Rose into the baby carrier. “Are you sure that feels okay?” I ask, adjusting the straps again. “You sure you don’t just want me to carry her?”

  “Daltrey, the carrier is totally safe.”

  I’m not convinced. “Won’t she get heavy? I don’t want your shoulders to get sore. Why don’t I—”

  “Walk away from me, Ransome,” she practically growls, and I hold up my hands in defeat.

  “You gonna tell me where we’re going yet?” I ask, linking our fingers as we make our way out onto the sunny street.

  “You’ll see soon enough,” she says, leading me down the block. She closes her eyes as she tilts her head up to the sky. “It’s nice to get out in the sunshine.”

  “We should go away somewhere,” I say, loving how happy she looks in this moment. “Back to Mexico maybe.”

  “If I thought you could handle taking this baby to a foreign country, I would be all over that.” I don’t say anything, feeling a familiar tensing in my shoulders. “You’re thinking about touring,” she guesses.

  “A little,” I admit. “But it’s not something we have to worry about for a while.”

  “It would be fine, Dalt. You know that, right? She’s going to be a touring baby. There’s just no getting around it.”

  I smile over at her, but I’m sure it’s pretty weak. Daisy doesn’t mention it, just squeezes my hand. “Any guesses where we’re going yet?”

  I look left and right, taking in our surroundings. Then my eyebrows go up. “The Musicians Hall of Fame?”

  She grins. “I looked it up online. I thought it might be right up your alley.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Apparently they put a lot of focus on the background musicians,” she explains. “The people you hear playing on all your favorite albums who you haven’t necessarily heard of.” She shrugs. “You’re always talking about the importance of behind-the-scenes people. I thought you might like it.”

  I stop walking to kiss her right there on the sidewalk, the baby between us in the carrier. “This is perfect. Thank you for thinking of it.”

  Within minutes of walking through the door, I know I’m going to love this. I also fear Daisy might be bored as hell. But she seems determined to indulge me as I lead her from exhibit to exhibit, exclaiming over each one. Chuck Berry’s guitar. Roy Orbison’s sunglasses. Platinum albums from any number of my favorite bands. Old walls scavenged from famous recording studios. I want to pour over each and every little thing. By the third exhibit, Daisy seems to be watching me much more than she’s looking at the old guitars.

  “My brothers would love this,” I mutter, staring down at the Motown exhibit, totally in awe. “Seriously.”

  “You can bring them the next time they come visit,” she suggests. Her face falls as she takes in my expression. “Dalt?”

  “My dad would love it, too,” I say softly, trying to push away the stab of pain in my chest. I can see it so perfectly, all of us here together, nerding out over this stuff. My dad would flip.

  Daisy takes my hand, giving it a squeeze. “
You’ll all come someday.”

  I catch sight of a piano over her shoulder and feel my eyes widen, the pressure in my chest relaxing.

  “Daisy,” I moan, staring at the instrument. “Elton John wrote “Don’t Let the Sun Go Down On Me” on this.” I flex my fingers at my side, itching to reach across the velvet rope to touch the keys.

  “When you bring the boys back here, you should call ahead. I bet they’d let the famous Daltrey Ransome play something on that thing.”

  I actually whimper at the thought and she laughs. “Come on, you giant dork.”

  We wander around the museum for a good hour or so before Rose starts to get fussy. “She needs to eat,” Daisy says.

  “I could go for some food myself,” I tell her, rubbing my stomach.

  She rolls her eyes. “I’m not going to mention that so much time wouldn’t have passed since breakfast if someone hadn’t been such a freak about packing and driving.”

  I tug on one of her curls. “Excuse me for caring about our child.” I catch sight of an interactive exhibit over her shoulder. According to the pamphlet Daisy grabbed for me on the way in, visitors can actually see what it’s like to be in a recording studio making music. “Sweet,” I murmur and Daisy turns to look, laughing when she sees what has my attention.

  “You do realize that you spend half your life in a recording studio, right?”

  “It looks cool.”

  “You want to do it?” she asks. “I think Rose could hold off for a minute.”

  I shake my head. “No, it’s fine. She needs to eat. Besides, I really am kinda hungry. You’re probably ready to eat, too.”

  “Then I guess it’s time for the next part of the plan.”

  “There’s more? Daisy this was perfect.”

  She smiles. “I’m not nearly done with you yet.”

  We find a quiet corner where she can nurse the baby. I sit next to her, overwhelmed like I always am when she does this. There’s something about her providing for our child in this incredibly fundamental way that always makes my chest feel tight. She’s such a badass.

  When Rose is blissed out in her milk-coma, we head back out into the sunny weather. “We can walk to the next part,” Daisy tells me. “It’s right over here.”

  “Pizza,” I murmur, my eyes darting to the restaurant she’s pointing to. I make a big show of rubbing my stomach. “God, I’m freaking starving.”

  “You went from kinda hungry to freaking starving pretty quickly there, Dalt.”

  I shrug. “The word pizza has that effect on me.”

  The restaurant serves wood-fired pizzas and the two of us share a large with everything. “You remember that pizza place in Jonesboro?” I ask her. “The Pizza Buffet?”

  Daisy’s smile is mischievous, but she reaches for one of my bread sticks before I can ask her what that’s about. “The Pizza Buffet—such a catchy name,” she says. “I had my first date there, you know. Peter Jenks.”

  I scowl at her. “I hated that kid.”

  She laughs. “You were friends with Peter.”

  “Yeah, until he had the nerve to ask you out.”

  Daisy rolls her eyes. “He was one of few with the courage to, let me tell you. Most of the guys in our class were too afraid of you.”

  I grin at her over my slice. “I may or may not have encouraged that.”

  “Of course you did.”

  I lean across the table to play with a strand of her hair. “Like you didn’t do the same.”

  She raises her eyebrows. “Can you blame me? I wanted you all to myself.”

  I shake my head. As if I could have ever been someone else’s. Daisy Harris had my heart the minute I moved in next door.

  “Well,” I tell her, grabbing another slice of pizza from the tray in the center. “I think I can safely say this is much better than the Pizza Buffet.”

  “Not hard to do,” she points out. “Considering that place served cardboard with cheese on it.”

  “Yeah, but you could have as much as you wanted.”

  She laughs. “Which is why you guys went all the time. God, what it must have cost to feed the four of you.” She looks down at our empty plates. “Speaking of which, we demolished that thing.”

  “Your new nursing appetite paired with my typical Ransome boy stomach makes us a force to be reckoned with.”

  Daisy lifts her fist for me to bump with my own. “Mere pizza doesn’t stand a chance. You ready to go?”

  “Is it pointless to ask where?”

  “Definitely pointless.”

  We have to drive to the next stop, but I’m starting to feel a bit more relaxed behind the wheel. Daisy, on the other hand, seems to be getting tenser. I can see it in her shoulders. But when we arrive at our next destination and she looks over at me, there’s nothing but excitement in her face.

  “The zoo?” I ask. “You want to go to the zoo?”

  “I happen to like zoos,” she says.

  I give her a sideways glance and can tell she’s forcing back a giggle. She has never in her life expressed any preference for visiting zoos, nor a particular interest in wildlife in general, but if this is part of her plan I’m not going to argue. “If you say so.”

  I take the baby carrier this time, leaving Daisy free to navigate with the map. “This way,” she says, leading me in the direction of the aquarium building.

  “We’re looking for something in particular?”

  “We are.”

  I keep pace with her, but find I can’t stop watching her face, searching for some clue. “You’re up to something.”

  She arranges her features in exaggerated innocence. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  We find the aquarium easily, browsing the tanks and enclosures in quiet save for the occasional fussing of the baby. When we pause in front of a massive, coiled snake, I look down at her. “You’re enjoying yourself?”

  “Oh, yes,” she says, but she doesn’t meet my eyes.

  I laugh. “Daisy, you hate snakes. Why on earth are we here?”

  “It’s part of the plan.” She holds up a hand when I open my mouth to argue. “And no, I’m not going to tell you why.”

  We both perk up a little when we reach the tank of stingrays. “Okay, this is cool.”

  “You’ve always had a weird attachment to stingrays,” she says, running a hand through my hair as I kneel beside the tank. “Ever since we were kids. Remember that poster?”

  I roll my eyes as I stand again. “Cash teased me about that, you know. Called me a science nerd.”

  “Cash teases about everything,” she points out. “I thought it was cute.”

  “You liked the stingrays too,” I remind her. “When we went to that place in Mexico you fed one.”

  She waggles her eyebrows. “I was mostly just happy that day because you were in a swim suit and therefore half naked.”

  I waggle my eyebrows right back. “I definitely came out the better in that deal. You were in a bikini, if I recall. Much more exciting than the stingrays.”

  She laughs. “Yet you never had a poster of me in your bedroom.”

  I lean down to kiss her, the baby between us. “That’s because I have the real thing.”

  Rose lets out a little cry, apparently not pleased about being trapped between us, and I draw back reluctantly. Rose’s cries don’t abate however, and I start to bounce her. “Come on, babe,” I murmur. “Chill out.”

  I start to sing to her softly, still bouncing. I look up to ask Daisy if she thinks the baby needs to be changed and catch her staring at me, her face soft, eyes wet. “What?”

  “You’re absurdly adorable, you know that?”

  I scrunch up my face. “Is that a compliment?”

  She laughs. “Definitely.”

  Rose continues to wail. “Does the plan fall apart if we leave the zoo early?”

  “Nope. We can go.”

  Rose relaxes a little once we’re outside, her cries turning from shrill to pathetic. I
rub my fingertips across the soft hair on her head, smiling when she quiets even more. It makes me feel ridiculously good when I can calm her. Like I have magic powers or something.

  “Thank you for this, Daisy,” I say as we exit the zoo gates. “It was a really great day.”

  “Are you under the impression that it’s over?”

  I raise my eyebrows at her. “Isn’t it?”

  “Oh, we’re not quite done yet.” She takes my hand. “But it is time to go home.”

  * * *

  “Take her upstairs,” Daisy whispers when we get back to the house. Rose fell asleep in the car. By my estimation, we probably have a good hour and a half or so before she’ll wake up again, demanding to be fed with the same enthusiasm typical of any hungry Ransome.

  “I’ll be right down,” I tell her.

  Daisy catches my elbow as I pass. “I need a few minutes, actually,” she says, eyes sparkling in the dark entryway. “So take your time.”

  “You still have something up your sleeve.”

  She grins, biting her lip. “The best part, actually. If I do say so myself.”

  A picnic. That’s what she planned for me. A picnic in the middle of our living room, to be exact.

  “Daisy,” I say, shaking my head from the doorway when I come back downstairs. She started a fire in the fireplace while I was gone, the light dancing on her hair, and put down an old quilt with a bunch of pillows. She’s kneeling there in the center, next to a wicker basket, grinning at me.

  “Do you remember the night we moved in?” she asks, reaching for me. I go to her without thinking, the movement automatic. Daisy reached out, my body responded. Just like it always has. Like, I am sure, it always will.

  “Of course.” Moving in had been a simple process—neither of us had many belongings, having spent most of the last several years on the road. We bought a bed before closing—I insisted on that—but otherwise had no furniture. No dishes, either. The next day we’d gone on a massive shopping spree, enjoying the chance to use my “obscenely ridiculous rock star money,” as Daisy calls it. But that first night we’d had very little, making due with a picnic there in front of the fire. Right where Daisy is now.