#Grubson | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

maybankiara · 1 year ago

Text

PHONE SWAP (DREW STARKEY)

24: WHEREVER YOU GO NEXT

summary: Addie Mallory is just your average economics student when she meets Drew Starkey at her local Target in Atlanta. This is where the story is supposed to end – a short meeting and a picture to go – except Drew accidentally leaves with the wrong phone, and the story begins, instead. w/c: 3.5k a/n: the mallory family holds a christmas eve dinner. this one is also perfectly timed with the holiday season which i'm buzzing about!! (might be a few typos - i apologise in advance) read on wattpad previous part | series masterlist

When her phone buzzes, it’s Drew’s name flashing on the screen, alongside a photo attachment. Addie chuckles to herself—it could be literally anything—and goes back to writing the email for Wes and Raiden, attaching the files Holden had her look over. By the time she’s finished, Drew's sent about a dozen more messages.

Addie opens them to be met with a blond toddler, grinning at the camera while sitting on a tractor big enough to make him seem like an ant. He’s got Drew’s excited grin: slightly lopsided and a little mischievous. It’s a cute photo, and Addie would’ve told him so, if she didn’t have another two dozen photos to look through. They’re all of Drew, from a toddler to a teenager, sometimes with other kids or family members. He accompanies each with context (‘I was sixteen and my parents knew I’d drink in high school so they got me drunk home first and I didn’t know they took photos until this morning') and Addie finds herself laughing as she keeps going.

It’s cute. It’s funny. It’s weird, too, because Addie realises she’s struggling to accept that this little boy sitting in a tractor is Drew. She always just kind of pictured him at his current age, and anything else felt surreal.

So that’s what she texts him: ‘I know this is proof you were a kid once but I still don’t believe it’

Her dad knocks on her door a few moments later, leaning on the doorframe with his head tilted and a playful smile on his lips, even if his hands are crossed on his chest. ‘Don’t you think you should put work aside for a little while?’

‘Can’t do that,’ Addie says, spinning around in her chair to face him. ‘Grubson Law will fall apart if I do that.’

‘Right.’

‘Yeah. I’m pretty important there.’

‘Well, I’m not surprised. You’re pretty important everywhere.’ Zion winks at her. ‘Especially downstairs, because Donnie wants you to know that your checkers throne is, um, quaking.’

Addie chuckles. ‘Has he been practising?’

‘Well, Addison… I think today might be the day.’

The image of Donnie getting the whole family into helping him practise for beating her one day is endearing to say the least. She’s known about this for a while – Liyah has sent her photos of Fun Fridays that now include checkers as a staple. Checkers with Donnie have always been one of Addie’s favourite perks of visiting her family.

Addie smiles. ‘I’m looking forward to it.’

As her father leans against the doorframe with his arms on his chest, Addie finds the resmblance to Dwayne Johnson again. He’s bigger than she’s last seen him and brighter, like there’s a spring to his step, even just standing like this.

‘You’re looking better, Dad,’ she says. ‘Gym and the new job look good on you.’

‘Thanks, Chione.’

Addie sighs at her father’s insistence to use her middle name instead of her first, but there’s no bite to it. The phone buzzes and she throws a glance—it’s Drew—before putting it in her pocket. She’s ready to go, but Zion is still standing there, looking around the room with fondness in his eyes.

‘You know,’ he says, ‘even though it’s been years since this was really your room, whenever I walk past it, some part of me still expects to see you hunched over your desk, studying.’

‘Really? That was ages ago.’

He shrugs. ‘It’s just not the same without you.’

‘Dad,’ she whispers, and then she’s hugging him like she’s six again, terrified of going to school for the first time, with only her dad’s arms to hold her. ‘You’re going to make me cry.’

‘Now that’d be a feat.’

‘I’m not joking.’

Zion chuckles, regardless, and kisses the top of her head. ‘I look at you and I see a woman that I will be proud of for the rest of my life.’

Addie feels herself tremble. Zion squeezes her harder, plants another kiss, and then he’s patting her back and letting go.

‘C’mon. You need to defend your throne from Donnie.’

‘I’ll be right down.’

The door closes and she’s alone again, her chest heavy with the emotions swirling around it. She takes a moment to compose herself and drinks some of her water, waiting to go down until her eyes don’t feel like they could betray her. Her phone buzzes with another text from Drew and she shoots a quick response, promising to send some photos of her own later.

Addie makes her way downstairs and tries to remember her best checkers strategies, to remember Donnie’s, to figure out how to beat him before the game’s even begun.

She doesn’t, though. It’s the best day of her brother’s life.

◇

Christmas Eve dinner is the tradition of the Mallory family and as such, is held every year at precisely seven o'clock, with the same roast chicken being served, the same homemade gravy and Liyah’s same precisely cut roast potatoes, amongst other constant elements. The latter is a recent addition – Liyah was twelve when she decided that she had inherited the Mallory chef gene, and started delighting the entire family and beyond with her ability which at this point, in Addie’s opinion, rivals Marianne’s.

Before the dinner, there is usually a speech. It’s similar to Thanksgiving, except they don’t go around the circle and say what they’re thankful for – instead, they speak of the good and the bad alike, and anything else worth for the entire family to hear. It’s one of the traditions Addie knows she’ll bring into her own family someday.

It’s the sight of all the people who make up her home at a table, holding hands while they wait for the dinner to begin, that makes her wonder if she’s ever truly appreciated the cards she’d been dealt.

Zion clears his throat, rising to his feet. ‘I believe it’s time for me to say a few words.’

Addie looks at her mother, only to find her eyes shining for her husband, with the gentlest of the smiles in the corner of her mouth.

Imani has always been the one with the knack for creating an atmosphere. From the soft jazz playing from her vinyl collection in the living room to the candles scattered around the dining room, replacing the main light for the main event. Even the evergreen-ivory theme of the table extends to the rest of the room, giving it a sense of home that grounds Addie.

She thinks back to the first Christmas Eve dinner she can recall, when she was five and an only kid. They lived in an apartment in the centre of Denver where the dining room was also the kitchen and the living room, and there was a small roast chicken and a candle or two, with her father’s potato wedges the only food other than the chicken. It was modest and it was the most magical thing Addie had ever seen at the time.

Looking over her family now, even with Donnie’s eyes very clearly hungry for those Liyah’s wedges, Christmas Eve still feels like magic.

Zion clinks a fork against his glass. ‘When you get to my age, you realise that everything you’ve ever done is so that your children wouldn’t have to go through the same things.’ His voice is kind and his eyes go from one child to another. ‘Every hardship your mum and I faced has been so we could be sitting at this table today, all five of us. I look at you and I see everything I’ve ever wanted in life.’

Every Christmas Eve, when Zion Mallory holds the speech, the house itself takes a breath, and the world slows to a halt. There is little remarkable about the man, Addie would have to admit, but that’s what she appreciates the most – even in moments like these, he is never trying to be anyone other than himself.

Her dad.

‘Everybody thinks they’ve got the best family,’ he says, ‘but I know I do.’

Liyah groans. Addie only hears because she’s sitting right next to her, and she gives her a light kick on the shin – she used to feel the same about Zion’s grand speeches, until she moved away and started hearing less and less of them.

Liyah will appreciate it more, one day.

‘We’ve been through a lot to get our family here today,’ continues Zion. He gripts the back of Imani’s chair, and his wife rests her hand on his. ‘We’ve gone through many jobs, many houses, many of everything to finally own this place. To be able to sit here and call this our home. For the three of you to have grown up here.’

‘Donnie hasn’t,’ Liyah says. ‘He’s still five.’

The boy in question puts. ‘Twelve.’

‘Same difference.’

Zion looks at them from underneath his brow, head tilted, menacing even if there’s a smile on his face. ‘Aaliyah. Adonis.’

The two apologise and Addie meets her mother’s eyes, both of them laughing quietly at the situation. There’s a running bet around the household to see who will manage to draw Zion out of his speech mood, yet for ten Christmas Eve dinners, no one has succeeded.

Not even today.

Addie listens to the speech with gleam in her eyes. If someone were to look at her from the outside, they’d see the love pouring out of her – she’s always been a daddy’s girl. She’s seen him hit rock bottom and build himself back up while raising three children and raising them well, and if he can do that, then she can get do anything, too.

She herself reeling in her father’s words and their delivery – in another life, he would’ve been a preacher. He would’ve been the one voice to manage to make the world a better place.

There’s always been something about Christmas that makes her want to take life by the reins again, to do the things she’s afraid of doing. She looks at her siblings and her mother and wonders if they feel the same.

She’s convinced they do.

She watches as Donnie grew three times in size when their father talks about his success in grade school. Donnie’s ADHD doesn’t come up but it’s in the back of everyone’s minds as he’s reminded of being the top of his class, of his fight against the odds, and of the fact that him keeping up with Liyah and Addie’s successes means he’s no less but more determined and adaptable than they were, because he has to be.

Donnie doesn’t say a word but he’s smiling, and Addie feels pride swelling in her chest. She’s missed out on so much of her little brother’s life and moments like these just remind her of it.

Zion spoke about her sister, too, even though she groaned and sighed her way through it. Addie knows that she’ll learn to appreciate it more someday, because she used to be all the same. Addie was just the first – Liyah is the one with a chance at Yale and Harvard and MIT, and Addie gives her a little squeeze on the shoulder. She won the state archery competition, too, which Donnie is most impressed by, and she even got promoted to Assistant Manager at their local pizza place.

Her siblings are growing up. Moving up in the world. And she’s given up seeing them do that – for what? For a carrer she’s unsure of? For a love that—

Zion calls her name, shaking the thoughts out of her head. ‘As I said before, I am beyond proud of the woman you’ve become. I see nothing but big thing in store for you. Whatever you decide to do after your internship ends, after you get your degree – whatever you choose for your career, wherever you go next, you are going to make the world a better place for everyone in it.’

Addie doesn’t even have the strength to say a thank you, just mouths it instead.

He moves on to her mother before Addie has had the time to process his words and most of what he says next goes past her head, but she catches the love pouring from his voice. She hears the pride for Imani’s long shifts at the hospital, and the hand on his starts to shake until Imani ends his speech by pulling him in for a kiss.

‘We're proud of you too, my love,’ says Imani as they sit down, hand in hand as her thumb strokes the back of his palm. ‘You are what holds this family together.’

Zion opens his mouth and Addie knows it’s to protest, except Liyah is faster. ‘You’ve always got our backs. And the reason why we keep fighting is because you’ve never stopped, and you show us that it pays off. You always push us to be the best versions of ourselves.’

There’s a moment of silence where Zion’s tiny smile is frozen except for the corner of his lips, where it’s twitching a little. ‘Liyah,’ he calls, extending the pause. ‘Your softie is showing.’

Donnie starts to cackle and Liyah throws her napkin at Zion, who keeps on teasing her. Addie wants to participate but all she can do is watch her family and just be thankful for the life she’s got, for the way she’s been brought up. Sometimes just existing alongside the people you love is enough.

When the playfulness ceases, the Mallory dinner commences. Addie thinks this Christmas just might top the first one.

◇

By the time Addie is finished wrapping up her presents, it’s nearly two o'clock in the morning. She knows it’ll be a pain when Donnie gets them all up before eight, but it’s nentirely on her. Hanging out with her family on a Christmas Eve until much later than any of them anticipated was worth it, though.

Now, Addie is in a tank top and pyjama bottoms, and she’s thankful that her fuzzy slippers don’t make noise on the floorboards as she walks down the steps. If Liyah catches her being bad at sneaking again, she’ll never let her live it down.

She's good, though – she gets to the Christmas tree without anyone knowing. There’s five gifts she slips under the ones already there, her maroon merging with the family’s traditional ivory- and evergreen-coloured, chess board-patterned wrapping paper. Her family went for ivory-coloured Christmas tree decorations this year, and the entire interior of the house is adorned in bits and pieces of ivory and green. Addie likes it. It’s a little bit tacky, a little over-the-top, but her mother knows how to make a place feel like home.

There’s warmth coming from behind her, a little to the right, and she’s half-surprised to see a lit fireplace in the middle of the living room wall. She comes closer and the heat blows into her face, raising some stray baby hairs, and she stares into the open flame until her eyes feel all dried out, and she’s forced to move away and keep her eyes closed for a little while.

When she opens them again, she rests her back on the bottom of the couch, enjoying the heat travelling through the floor, pecking at her bare feet. There’s always been a fireplace in this house, but it hadn’t been working for a long time when they moved in, and Addie kind of made peace with it being a decoration rather than a functional way of heating the place. She always liked sitting here when she was younger and couldn’t sleep – there was something grand about trying to picture what a fire would look like there, how it would feel.

Addie doesn’t think she ever pictured it this good. With the Christmas tree and presents underneath it, decorations scattered all over the place, and the finally lit fireplace, it looks like anything one could ever hope for in life. Or at least, in Addie’s case.

Her palm is lying open on the floor, and she puts it to her face; it’s warm and soft. Her mum would yell at her for doing this, because the floor is dirty, but Addie doesn’t quite care. There's a feeling within her chest that is at peace here – she thinks she could sit like this forever.

Some time passes, and Addie’s dazed train of thought takes her to memories, to photos, and the albums she knows her parents keep in the corner of the room. It’s an effort to go and get them, but she does, picking the one labelled 1994 first, and then grabs a couple more from the years that followed. She goes back to her little spot in front of the couch, gets comfortable with a pillow underneath her butt, and begins looking through the album. She hasn’t done this in a while.

There's a sense of comfort Addie gets from looking at pictures of her parents from when they were just a little bit older than her, perfectly in love, ready to take on the world together. She has a lot of her mother’s features but her father’s smile, and she’s glad there’s a lot of pictures of him smiling. Pictures of pregnant Imani are gorgeous, and Addie makes a note of telling her that in the morning. Even in the first picture taken after Addie’s birth, with the little baby wrapped up in a towel and pressed to her mother’s chest, Imani looks beautiful in a way that every mother does.

It’s not like Addie has baby fever, but she likes to think that someday, she’ll have kids of her own. She hopes that she gets the chance to be as good of a mother as Imani has been to her.

Little Addie in the pictures grows fast, and she’s doing everything a toddler shouldn’t. She made fun of Drew's photo of him on a tractor, but there’s photos of Addie on her uncle’s jet-ski, on the fence, even some of her with bloodied knees and a gash on her chin as she waves gleefully from the highest branch of a tree in their backyard, at barely three. She was a happy kid, and her parents always supported her wild and reckless endeavours. Later, when school came into the picture, she had a little less freedom, and the grazed knees became bruises from bumping into surfaces while waiting tables.

She takes a few pictures of the photos, turning the album so the fire would lighten them up enough to be visible on her phone camera. She sends them to Drew, with a few funny captions like his own had been, and sends some of the more embarrassing ones (like Addie crying because Zion smudged some of her fourth birthday cake on her face) to Marianne.

Her finger hovers over Holden’s name for a while. She thinks about sending him some of the ones she’d sent to the other two, but doesn’t quite know if...

Well. She sighs to herself, leaning the back of her head on the couch – she’s not sure what’s keeping her from sending the photos. Her fingers play with the corners of the page she’s on, twirling them around as she tries to come up with a logical explanation.

(Logic doesn’t always work. Marianne’s voice is in her head, and it’s telling her about the highs and lows of being with Tom, and Addie feels like her mind is telling her something that she can’t quite grasp. There is a clear sense of discomfort in her thoughts, in the idea of Holden being a part of this greater picture of Addie’s life, and it leaves a bad taste.)

Addie’s heart is a little heavy, now. She knows she’s tired and overthinking and her feet are starting to be a little too warm, but there’s been a funny feeling nagging at her for a while now. Being home is like a fairy tale – she’s thinking about family, about history, about love she has for people in her life, and about what she wants her life to be like someday, and... she isn’t really thinking about Holden. Not in the way where she feels like he fits into these little pieces.

Drew messages her back before her thoughts get anywhere further, though. It’s mostly him making fun of her in return, but he also wishes her Merry Christmas, and Addie realises she’s kind of already forgotten it's past midnight, so she writes a half-apologetic Christmas wish to him. It’s easy, talking to him, teasing him about the fact that he’s awake so late on Christmas of all days, and getting teased right back. As it turns out, both of them are up because they left the gift wrapping for the last minute.

The alarm clock on her bedside table reads 3:49am when she finally gets into her bed. She’s still warm from the fireplace, and she’s still chatting to Drew and promising to bring some of the albums up or at least some of the photos, and she falls asleep in the middle of writing a message.

She dreams of fireplaces, little kids with her hair running around, and a man whose face she doesn't get to see.

◇

25: MERRY CHRISTMAS (coming 23/12)

#drew starkey #outer banks #obx #drew starkey fanfiction #obx fanfiction #my fic #phone swap series #f: obx #drew starkey x oc

11 notes · View notes