I'm gonna live where the green grass grows
Watch my corn pop up in rows
Every night be tucked in close to you
Raise our kids where the good Lord's blessed
Point our rocking chairs towards the west
Plant our dreams where the peaceful river flows
Where the green grass grows
Rick jogged at a leisure pace, listening to the dulcet tune of Tim McGraw through his airpods.
Even though he had gotten a late start on his morning run, the extra time he spent in bed with his wife had left him in a good mood.
As he jogged down the street towards his home, he hoped he had enough time to steal Michonne away again before their kids could get to her.
Unfortunately, his plans would be delayed by the sight of a hapless woman, struggling to push a box nearly twice her size down the ramp of a moving truck.
Rick curiously squinted his eyes and removed the airpods, slowing his pace as he neared, his hormonal urges temporarily overridden by his chivalrous nature.
"Ron? Sam?" she huffed, throwing her weight behind the box, "guys, little help here!"
The box tipped over a little too far and was seconds from tumbling down the ramp. Rick looked around but didn't see anyone rushing to her aide, so he jogged over to offer assistance.
"I got it," he said, catching the box with a grunt.
The woman pulled up with a look of surprise. "Oh! Thank you," she said, rushing down the ramp to meet him as he set the box down onto the sidewalk.
"Not a problem," he replied lightly, standing up straight, "but if Ron and Sam are your movers, I'd consider letting them go."
"I wish. They're my kids," she warily joked, looking around for her supposed help.
When she finally turned to address Rick directly, she blinked as she got a good look at him. "I just mean, I love them, of course, they're just not much help when it comes to moving," she amended with a nervous laugh, self-consciously brushing back hair that had escaped her messy bun.
"I'm Rick," he said, extending his hand and offering a polite change of subject.
"Jesse," she returned, shaking his hand with a gracious smile. "Do you live in the neighborhood?"
He nodded his head towards his home. "Next door. My wife met your husband yesterday. Pete, right?"
"Oh really? Pete didn't mention it," she said, knitting her eyebrows together in confusion. Her smile quickly returned, although this time a little more strained. "I'm sure he would've sooner or later, it's just been so busy these past couple of days."
"I get it," Rick said, nodding his understanding. "We're gonna be grilling next Saturday. Michonne extended an invite yesterday, we'd be happy to have you."
Jesse's smile brightened. "Really? That's so nice. Should we bring anything?"
Rick chuckled as he scratched his brow, knowing how Michonne felt about food prepared by strangers. "Just yourselves, we'll take care of the rest."
"Okay, we'll be there," Jesse promised.
"Mom!"
Rick and Jesse turned to see an surly looking teenager make his way towards them.
Rick could only assume the boy was one of her aforementioned sons - Ron or Sam, either way he saw no reason to linger around. "I'll let you get back to it," he said to Jesse.
She looked almost disappointed to hear that. "Oh, of course. Thanks for your help, and the invite."
Rick nodded and smiled as he backed away then turned to make his way home.
Jesse was so focused on admiring his exit that she had completely forgotten about her irritable teenager until he stepped into her view.
"Earth to Mom. Are you even listening?"
"What?" Jesse asked absently, shifting her eyes to her oldest son, Ron.
He raised a confused eyebrow and turned in the direction she was facing. "Who were you talking to?"
She blinked, remembering herself. "A friendly neighbor, who's been a lot more help in five minutes then you've been all day, buddy," she said, marching back up the moving truck's ramp. "Go get Sam, and help me with the rest of these boxes. And where is your father?"
Ron sighed exaggeratedly. "Why didn't we just hire movers?"
Jesse flopped down on a box labeled pots & pans with a huff. She had been wondering the same thing, but Pete had been adamantly against it, insisting they move in themselves. A lot of nerve on his part since he's been MIA for most of the morning.
"Where's your father?" she asked again, looking back at her son.
Ron rolled his eyes and folded his arms over his chest. "Where he's been all morning; the basement."
Jesse frowned. "What's he doing down there?"
"How should I know?" he shot back.
Jesse tiredly rose to her feet, not in the mood for the grief she was getting. "Just find your brother and finish unloading the boxes. I'll go get your dad to help with the furniture."
Ron scoffed and stormed ahead of her inside the house. His heavy footfalls marking his agitation as he searched for his younger brother.
Jesse ignored him as she walked purposefully towards the basement door. She turned the handle and sighed in exasperation when it wouldn't budge.
"Pete? Pete, are you down there?" she called as she knocked, then frowned, redrawing her fist at how solid the door appeared to be. "Pete?" she called again, hesitantly.
"What?"
Jesse jumped in surprise as Pete emerged from behind her. "What are you doing? And what's with this door?" she demanded, thumbing back at the reinforced egress.
"I replaced it yesterday, the old one was damaged around the hinges," Pete revealed nonchalantly as he strolled past her into the kitchen.
"Was that before or after meeting our new neighbor?" she pressed, following after him.
Pete kept his back to her as he retrieved a bottle of water from the refrigerator. "What are you talking about now, Jesse?"
"I just met Rick outside and he said you met his wife yesterday," Jesse pressed, watching him for some reaction that her words were ringing a bell. "They invited us to a barbeque next weekend."
"Oh right," he finally said, turning to lean back against the kitchen counter as he faced her. "Michelle or something."
"Michonne," Jesse corrected, she remembered because she thought it was pretty.
Pete inhaled as he tilted his head. "Okay."
"Well, were you planning on telling me?" she asked, growing annoyed with his indifference.
"Doesn't seem like I needed to since Rick gave you all the details anyway," Pete shot back coolly.
Jesse frowned at the way he said Rick's name like a sneer. To her knowledge, they hadn't even met yet. "Well, I told him we would go."
Pete nodded impatiently. "Anything else?"
"I guess not," Jesse exhaled, realizing she wouldn't be getting anything else out of him on the topic. "Oh wait! We still have furniture to move, and I need you to unlock the basement. I want to store some boxes down there until I get a chance to sort through them."
Pete pushed away from the counter, heading out of the room. "Use another room. I'm using the basement as my office," he said over his shoulder.
Jesse pulled up, confused. "What? Why?"
Pete stopped and turned to face her, his impatience evident. "Because it's private and I don't have to worry about distractions down there."
"When were you planning on telling me?"
"I'm telling you now."
"Do you really need the whole basement? I mean there's plenty of space up here for you to..."
She cut off her words as Pete stalked towards her, grabbing her roughly by the arm to pull her closer. He towered over her, demeaning her stature with his height.
"It's a big house, Jesse, I'm sure you can find another space. But stay out of the basement, understand?" he warned, tightening his grip on her arm.
"Pete, you're hurting me," she whimpered, not wanting to provoke the situation further.
He didn't readily let her go as his glare bore into her, but slowly he seemed to remember himself and drew in a slow breath as he released her. "Find another space for the boxes," he said, less angrily this time.
He started out of the room again, leaving Jesse alone. She sniffled as she reached up to gently cup the area on her arm that would likely bruise.
She knew it was naïve to think that moving into a new house would magically solve all of her family's problems, but she had hoped that it would at least be a turning point.
The move had been Pete's idea. She didn't think they could afford a place like this, but Pete had assured her that they could with his new residency. He made it seem like it was a good thing, a new beginning.
And yet, with every moment that passed, Jesse realized it would only be more of the same.
"Mom?"
Jesse quickly swiped her hand across her face and plastered on a smile as she turned to greet her youngest son. "Sam, hey kiddo," she said, a little too brightly.
Sam looked at her questioningly. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing. It's just so hot, I needed to get out of the sun for a while," she lied. "Where's your brother?"
"Outside. He sent me to get you."
"Well let's go then," Jesse said, gesturing for Sam to lead the way. As she followed him to the front, her eyes landed on the basement door again.
She sighed heavily, pausing there for a moment as she mentally battled with whether or not she wanted to know what warranted so much privacy.
"Mom, come on, move," Ron urged, brushing past her with a large tote in his arms. "What is with you today?"
Jesse hurriedly moved out his way. "Sorry," she apologized, shaking her head to put the basements and its contents on the back burner for now.
"Police are investigating the apparent kidnapping of an Atlanta local woman; Andrea Holden. Holden was last seen in the Galleria business park last Thursday at approximately 11:30 PM. CCTV cameras in the area picked up footage of Holden being apprehended by an unknown suspect who police advise could be armed and-"
"That's enough of that," Rick said, picking up the TV remote from the arm of the sofa to change the channel from the local news to cartoons.
"Hey!" Judith complained, having been invested in the segment.
"Hey yourself, you know better than to watch things like that around your brother and sister," he chastised, nodding to her younger siblings seated beside her, now focused on the more age appropriate Steven Universe.
Judith let the subject drop when she noticed the Amazon box lodged under his arm. "Is that my camera?" she asked, hopping off the sofa to retrieve it.
Rick arched an eyebrow as he handed over the package he picked up from the front door on his way in. "Didn't you just order it last night?"
"I had it overnighted," Judith informed him, heading out of the room.
"Of course you did," Rick muttered.
"Daddy, I'm hungry," Maya said, sitting up on her knees and she turned to face him.
"Hi hungry, nice to meet you," he returned, tugging on her braided hair made loose from the previous night's sleep.
Maya giggled, too young to find his dad-jokes as offensive as her siblings seemed to. "No, Daddy, I'm Maya and I'm hungry."
"Can we have pancakes?" RJ added, turning to look at his father.
"I'll see what I can do," Rick told them, turning to head for the kitchen.
"Blueberry pancakes, please," Maya called after him in a sing-song voice.
Rick chuckled to himself, thinking she would soon turn into a blueberry at the rate she ate them, when he suddenly stopped in the kitchen's entryway.
"Morning," Carl casually greeted, already at work behind the stove.
"Good morning," Rick returned, eyebrows raised in pleasant surprise. "What's all this?" he asked, looking over the assortment of food preparations spread out over the counter.
"I'm making breakfast," Carl announced, wiping his hands on a nearby dish cloth as he returned to the island.
He moved with such confidence, Rick was almost deceived into thinking he actually knew what he was doing. "That is what it looks like," he slowly agreed. "The question is why?"
"Can't a considerate son make breakfast for his loving family?" Carl asked innocently.
"Do you even know what you're doing?" Rick questioned, looking at him dubiously.
"That's why I'm here, Mr. G."
He leaned over to see an image of his son's friend, waving back at him on a propped up iPhone. "Morning Enid," he greeted, unsurprised to see her.
"Morning," she returned, "Don't worry, I'm making sure he doesn't burn the house down."
"You have no idea how much that comforts me," Rick sighed, looking back to his son.
"Don't worry, Dad, I have everything under control," Carl assured him, making a show of cracking an egg over a mixing bowl.
"If you say so," he conceded, slowly turning to leave when stopped himself, remembering Maya's request. "Your sister wants blueberry pancakes."
"I got it," Carl said distractedly, lifting a bowl of blueberries already set aside.
Rick took one more look at the abnormal sight in his kitchen before shaking his head and continuing upstairs. He could hear Judith talking animatedly over the phone with Gracie from her bedroom as he passed, leaving Andre the only one uncounted for.
Rick found him easily enough, sprawled out across his bed, still sound asleep. He eased his door closed so the boy could sleep in a little longer before finally heading for the master bedroom at the end of the hall.
"Your son wants something," he said, removing his t-shirt as he strolled inside.
Michonne eyed him from her vanity mirror. "Which one?"
"The oldest one," he grunted, sitting down on the chaste at the foot of their bed to remove his running shoes. "He's downstairs now, cooking breakfast."
She quickly whirled around in her seat, temporarily distracted from styling her hair. "In my kitchen?"
Rick laughed, getting up to drop his t-shirt in the hamper before continuing to their in-suite bathroom. "Yep."
"And you didn't stop him?"
"He said he wanted to do something nice for us," Rick told her, stepping out his shorts to toss them in as well.
Michonne snorted turning back to her task at hand. "He definitely wants something."
He slid back the shower curtain, stepping inside the stall. "That's what I said."
Michonne checked her reflection, making sure her locs were neatly secured in a ponytail before following her husband inside the bathroom. "So, what does he want?" she asked, pulling the shower curtain aside to continue their conversation.
Rick shrugged under the water, with his back to her. "What does any sixteen-year-old want?"
"Well his driving test is coming up, so one could only guess."
Rick combed his fingers through his hair as he turned to face her. "He's doing well behind the wheel. Couldn't hurt to give him some more responsibilities to make him work for it. I mean, he's already cooking breakfast without being asked."
Michonne smirked. "Are you proposing we take advantage of his gratuity?"
"Yep," he returned easily.
"I'll remember you said that the next time Judith or Maya bat's their eyes at you and say 'pretty please'," Michonne told him, pulling the shower curtain closed as she turned away.
"Hey, where are you going?" Rick called, peeking his head out.
She looked at him knowingly. "Carl could be burning the kitchen down as we speak."
"Enid assured me that wouldn't happen," he said, reaching for her.
Michonne evaded him playfully. "Enid's here?" she asked, feeling a little better if that were the case.
"On FaceTime," he amended.
"Oh my God, Rick," Michonne proclaimed, hurrying out of the bathroom to save her kitchen from her son.
Rick's laughter followed her as she rushed away.
"I don't think it's supposed to look like that."
"You sure?"
"Mommy's pancakes don't look like that."
"The blueberries are burning!"
Carl hurriedly removed the skillet from the stove and sure enough the blueberry batter inside was beginning to char. "Uh oh," he muttered.
"Told you," RJ said mockingly from his seat at the island counter.
"You killed them, Car!" Maya complained, beside him.
RJ rolled his eyes at her. "You can't kill blueberries, Maya."
"Yes, you can! Car just did!" she insisted, pointing at the pitiful excuse for a pancake.
"Tell me you remembered to base the pan, genius," Enid voiced from Carl's phone.
Carl blanched as he attempted to scrape the half-cooked concoction out of the skillet and onto a plate. "What does that even mean?"
Michonne breezed into the kitchen in the midst of all the commotion. "What's going on in here?"
"Carl burnt the pancakes," RJ explained to her.
"I did not," Carl insisted as Michonne came up next to him. He willingly stepped aside to let her take control. "Okay, maybe a little."
"Sorry about your breakfast, Mrs. G.," Enid apologized.
"I'm sure you did your best, Enid," Michonne told her, taking the skillet and its contents to the trash can.
"At least I got the bacon right," Carl insisted, gesturing to the plate of slightly undercooked strips of bacon.
Michonne smiled indulgently at him. "You definitely tried, but I got this."
"Thank goodness," RJ lamented.
Michonne eyed him pointedly. "Hey, your brother was trying to do something nice. How about a little appreciation?"
"I appreciate that he's not cooking anymore," RJ returned cheekily and then cried out when Carl attempted to grab him for the remark.
RJ took that as his cue to leave and dashed out of the kitchen with Maya giggling behind him on his heels.
"And where do you think you're going?" Michonne asked, watching as Carl retrieved his cell phone and started out of the kitchen.
"Talk to you later, Chef Boyardee," Enid said knowingly before hanging up.
Carl stopped and turned on his heel with a look of chagrin. "Um...no where?"
"That's right, get over here and learn something."
The doorbell rang and Carl started to go answer but Michonne caught him by the back of his shirt to drag him back.
"I got it," Andre called groggily, bounding down the kitchen stairs.
He raised a confused eyebrow at the sight of Carl behind the stove with their mother but didn't comment on it as he continued through to the front door.
"Hey Gracie," he greeted casually.
Gracie beamed, straightening her shoulders when she saw who answered the door. "Hi Dre," she airily returned.
"Judith's upstairs," he said over his shoulder as he headed towards the family room to watch TV.
Gracie kept her eyes trained on him, slowly closing the door appearing in no rush to go find her friend.
"Quit drooling, he hasn't even brushed his teeth yet," Judith divulged dryly, shouldering the bookbag she used to store her camera equipment as she descended the stairs.
Gracie rolled her eyes. "I wasn't drooling."
Judith leaned over and pretended to wipe her friend's chin. "You sure about that?"
Gracie swatted her hand away, smirking despite herself. "You're so annoying."
"And, you're so obvious," Judith maintained, leading her further inside the house. "Gracie and I are going outside to shoot some stuff," she announced with her new camera in hand, strolling through the kitchen towards the glass sliding door that led to the backyard.
"Be back in time for breakfast," Michonne said absently, glancing up from Carl's second pancake attempt. "Morning, Gracie."
"Hi Mrs. Grimes, bye Mrs. Grimes," Gracie quickly returned, keeping up with Judith's fast pace. "Is Carl being punished or something?" she asked once they were outside.
Judith shrugged as she double checked her camera bag to make sure she had everything they would need. "I've learned not to ask questions."
"I still can't believe they got you a new camera," Gracie said, watching her. "We could have just used our iPhones."
Judith raised her eyebrows, her expression was indignant. "I'm going to pretend you didn't say that."
"My dad's the same way. You guys are so weird."
"That's because your dad is a professional. Like I'm going to be," Judith informed her as they made their way across the lawn.
"Whatever you say. What are we filming today anyway?"
Judith waited until they were at the edge of the yard before reaching inside her camera bag and brandishing a box of BlackCat firecrackers. "We're gonna test explosives," she said, conspiratorially.
Gracie widened her eyes. "Where did you get those?"
"Uncle Daryl," Judith supplied, dropping the box back inside the bag, "but he said if I got caught he'd deny everything, so we have to go down by the lake to use them," she added, crossing over the invincible border that divided the manicured lawn from the organically overgrown brush beyond.
Gracie shook her head, following her inside with a sigh. "Of course he did."
Later that day, Jesse found herself standing in front of the basement door, lost in thought.
Since her earlier exchange with Pete, she could not shake the feeling that something was very wrong about what he was actually doing down there.
Jesse knew Pete had his secrets but this was the first time one had infiltrated their home.
She had no delusions about her marriage. What she and Pete had could not be further from a fairy tale romance.
Their brief courtship was the accumulation of a poorly matched blind date that led to a forgettable one-night stand. But when she found out she was pregnant, she was too afraid to tackle the responsibility of parenthood alone.
She wanted to believe Pete stayed because he cared, but the reality was Jesse made for a convenient trophy wife. Another box to check off on his American Dream bingo card.
He had never shown any real interest in her or their relationship beyond that.
Still, Jesse held out hope that time would bring their family together.
It turned out to be wishful thinking because even after Ron was born, Pete remained impassive. Choosing to spend most of his time at work, or at least that's what he said.
At the time, Jesse kept herself busy with her role as a new mother and pretended not to notice.
Even though she had always envisioned herself with a house full of children, Pete did not seem eager to fulfill that request, so she contented herself with her baby boy.
It was a surprise to them both when she found out she was pregnant again. Especially because their sex life was a little more than the occasional obligatory tryst on holidays, and sometimes birthdays.
In spite of all that, Jesse was happy.
Pete was distant, as usual, but he kept a roof of their heads and food on the table. So what if stayed out all day and he drank himself to sleep every night?
But during her second pregnancy something changed that familiar dynamic in their household.
Pete was going through a rough time at work. She didn't know all the details because he never divulged them. But, if his increasingly sour mood had been any indication, she could only assume how bad things had become.
One night after hitting the Ketel One particularly hard, Pete aggressively berated a seven-year-old Ron into urinating on himself.
Jesse was furious, but tried to reason with Pete. And that was the first time he became violent.
Her water broke in the midst of the pushing and shoving, causing Sam to be born four weeks early.
While her baby fought for his life in NICU, Jesse worked on her resolve to leave her husband.
It didn't take a genius to figure out that with no money saved and no place to go, her options were limited, but she was determined.
However, she hadn't anticipated Pete being apologetic.
He came to hospital with flowers, the first and last he had ever given her. He made promises about cutting back on drinking and that he would spend more time with her and the boys, and he seemed sincere.
That was all it took.
Over the next eight years, he would continue to make promises and continue to break them. Until one day, he decided the promises weren't worth being made at all.
At the end of the day, Jesse blamed herself for her predicament. Pete never hid who he was, she just pretended not to see. Leaving her to wonder how much she had been blind to before now.
Jesse knew that she would likely never fall in love with her husband, but she was in love with her family.
However, as she stood in front of the locked basement door, wondering what secrets Pete was keeping from her now, she wondered if that was enough.
"Mom, I'm bored. When's the WiFi gonna work?" Sam asked, pulling her from her bleak thoughts.
"It'll be connected later, honey," she absently returned.
"Well what am I supposed to do now?" he pressed.
"Why don't you go outside? Maybe try and make some new friends," she suggested, turning to face him.
Sam huffed, not excited about the idea. "Can't I just stay here with you?"
To say Sam was attached to Jesse would be an understatement. He was a shy child and had always had difficulties making new friends, preferring to keep the familiar company of his mother instead. And on any other day, Jesse may have indulged him, but she had plans of her own that she would prefer to handle alone.
"Not today, buddy," she said, dropping down to his eye level, "you can either finish unpacking your bedroom or head outside for a while."
"I've already unpacked my room."
"Then, I guess there's only one other option for you," she said, pushing herself to her feet.
Jesse didn't wait for Sam to respond as she went in search of Pete's tool kit, she would need to work quickly to unhinge the door before Pete and Ron returned from the dropping off the moving truck.
Sam watched her scurry away dejectedly, not understanding why she didn't seem to care about his plight.
He slowly turned to face the front door and sighed before reluctantly venturing outside into the late afternoon sun.
This new neighborhood was a lot different from old one. It was less noisy and there was a lot more grass and trees around, with just enough space between them for the sizable houses they camouflaged.
Instead of busy city intersections, the neighboring streets were separated by thick brushes of trees and shrubbery, saved for the front and back lawn space dedicated to each property.
Sam had never lived so close to an actual forest and was curious to see what it was like inside of one.
Just as he was about to head toward the backyard to explore he heard laughter coming from nearby, and spotted two kids playing with water guns on their front lawn.
Knowing it would make his mother happy to know he at least tried to make new friends, he started walking in their direction.
"Mommy! RJ wet my hair!" the little girl cried, running towards a woman Sam hadn't seen right away.
"No I didn't! She ran in front of my gun!" the boy said, defending himself.
"Oh wow, he got you good, Maya," the woman said, stooping down to the girl's level to gently take the water gun from her. "I guess there's only one thing to do."
She quickly took off in a sprint after the boy, blasting him with the water gun she had commandeered.
The boy laughed as he ran across the manicured grass, away from his mother while the girl excitedly cheered her on.
Sam stopped himself before they could see him. His cherubic face twisted into a grimace watching the three of them together.
It wasn't fair. His mother didn't have time to play with him, she was too busy staring at a door.
Sam was no longer in the mood to make new friends.
Instead, he returned to his original plan and started walking back towards his house. He kept walking through to the backyard until he reached the end of the property and was staring into a dense thicket of trees.
The sun was blocked by a canopy of leaves and branches, making the area appear darker than it really was. Up close, it looked a little more scary than Sam had anticipated.
But, his curiosity eventually won out as he took a deep breath and stepped into the brush.
Once inside, he didn't think it was so bad. It was even kind of pretty. He could hear the birds clearly, and from where he stood he could see a stream. The sun reflected on top of the water, brightening the area around it, beckoning him closer.
He carefully navigated over raised branches and rocks until he reached the mossy grass of the stream's edge. As he was leaning over to cup his hands in the water, he heard the sound of something popping loudly in quick succession nearby.
Sam jerked his head around searching for the source of the sound and his eyes eventually landed on two girls further downstream.
One of them was kneeling on the ground with a camera, while the other hovered over her shoulder.
"I think we got it," the one with the camera said.
"Finally," the other replied, "we've been out here for hours."
"Hey, I made sure you had breakfast."
"No, your mom did that, and now I'm ready for lunch."
"That's the deal, right? Free food, free labor."
The girls were too preoccupied with their conversation to notice Sam watching them until the one with the camera looked up from her lens.
Her friend followed her gaze and waved at him. "Hello," she called with a friendly smile.
"Gracie, don't talk to strangers."
"Really, Judith? He's just a kid."
Sam wanted to tell them he wasn't a kid, in fact, he wasn't much younger than they were. But he didn't say anything, instead he remained frozen in place.
"What's he doing?"
"Maybe he's lost."
"Hey, are you lost or something?"
Gracie nudged her with her elbow and looked apologetically at Sam. "What's your name?"
Sam stared back at them, frozen in place. He opened his mouth to respond but the words wouldn't come.
Gracie started to look concerned, while Judith's frown deepened.
"Are you okay?" Gracie asked.
Sam began to stutter. "I..I..."
"I think he's having a stroke."
"Not funny, Judes," Gracie chided as they neared him.
"I wasn't trying to be," Judith protested, then looked to Sam. "Seriously, are you okay?"
"Do you want us to call your mom?" Gracie added, placing a gentle hand on his arm.
Sam jerked back at the contact. "I'm fine!" he snapped, looking away from them towards the ground.
Judith threw hands in the air, backing away. "Say less. Gracie, let's go."
Gracie hesitated. "Are you sure?"
Sam's eyes were dark when lifted his gaze and Gracie took a step back, frowning in confusion.
"Let's go, Gracie," Judith insisted, dragging her away by the hand. "I know you were taught stranger danger."
"How was I supposed to know he'd be weird?"
Sam trembled, watching them leave. His hands balled into tight fists at his sides as tears started down his cheeks.
Why did he have to come outside? Why did he try to make new friends? And why would his mother suggest any of it in the first place?
Sam sulked to the ground, burying his face in his knees while the bitter questions replayed over in his mind.
As his anger grew, he thought of his father, and how disappointed he would be if he saw him now. How many times had Pete told him that only weak men cry?
Sam didn't want to be weak, but he didn't know how not to be either.
After a few long moments, he slowly lifted face and tried to swipe away the tears that were still flowing. He drew in a few shuddering breaths then forced himself to stand, thinking that would be a good first step.
It was starting to get dark, and he was ready to go home, WiFi or not, so he carefully began to retraced his steps.
Just as he was about to cross over into his yard, he heard something mewling from somewhere behind him.
Curious, he turned to follow the sound and came upon a small brown rabbit in the grass. It was trapped under a fallen log and was desperately trying to squirm free from the tight space.
Sam sniffled as he considered the animal, fascinated by its struggle. The way its hind legs kicked and pushed against the ground, growing more and more frantic.
He carefully knelt down beside it and reached out to gently stroke its fur.
The rabbit was weak, much weaker than Sam. It couldn't even get itself out from under a dead log. It was pathetic.
The rabbit became even more skittish under his touch, sensing the new threat on a primal level.
Sam ignored its whines even as they grew louder. Instead, he continued to pet its fur, mesmerized by the feeling of its heartbeat fluttering under his palm.
He shifted his eyes away from the rabbit and spotted a smooth rock small enough to fit inside the palm of his hand and reached over to pick it up.
Without warning, he brought the rock down with force onto the rabbit's head. It shrieked loudly from the impact and hit the ground with a thud.
Sam dropped rock and immediately backed away, his own heartbeat pounding against his chest from what he had just done.
The rabbit wasn't squirming anymore.
He took a hesitant step towards it and retrieved the rock without looking away, then dropped to his knees and raised the rock above his head.
"Crying is for the weak!" he shouted with tears in his eyes, forcibly bringing the rock down again.
"So what do you think about the house?"
When Ron didn't respond to his question, Pete briefly took his eyes off the road to glance at him. His son was effectively ignoring him, having angled his body towards the passenger's window and his earbuds playing on the loudest setting.
Pete switched hands on the steering wheel and reached over to yank the earbuds out by the cord.
"What the hell!" Ron griped, sitting up in his seat.
"I asked you a question," Pete returned, unapologetically.
"What?" Ron sighed, snatching his cord back.
Pete narrowed his eyes, not caring for his tone but choosing to move past it. "I asked how'd you like the new house?"
"It's fine, I guess."
Pete scoffed. "It's fine, I guess? Do you know how hard I had to work to get us a place in Buckhead. Care to show a little gratitude?"
"I still don't see why we had to move in the first place," Ron sighed, folding his arms across his chest.
"We moved to be closer to my new job," Pete sent back.
Ron sucked his teeth. "Because you got fired from your old one," he argued. "And the first thing we do is move into an even bigger house. How much sense does that make?"
Pete's grip on the steering wheel tightened. The boy was lucky he was driving. "I did not get fired from my old job. I found a better one."
Ron rolled his eyes. "Whatever," he muttered under his breath.
"What was that?"
"Nothing," Ron told him, grateful that their new house was finally coming into view. He had had more than enough quality time with his old man.
Pete barely had a chance to shift the car into park before Ron had hoped out. "Hey, where are you going?" he called after him.
"I'll be back later," he said, continuing down the street. In truth, he had no real destination, but anyway was better than inside that house.
Pete slammed his truck door closed, more than a little agitated by the conversation as he marched up the driveway.
When he entered the house the first thing he noticed was the lack of activity inside. The sun was beginning to set yet there were no lights on. There was barely any commotion at all, saved for the faint video game sound effects coming from somewhere upstairs.
Knowing if Sam was home, Jesse wouldn't be far away he quietly made his way through the house until he heard her. Judging by the sighs of exasperation, whatever she was doing was not going well for her.
Pete followed her sounds until he found her at the basement door, struggling to pry the hinges off with a handheld screwdriver.
"What are you doing?"
Jesse leaped to her feet, dropping the tool to clutch her chest as she spun around. "Pete, you're home," she blurted out, frantically looking around as if just realizing how much time had passed by.
Pete didn't move right away, rather enjoying the way she squirmed under his glare.
"I'll tell you what it looks like," he said calmly, taking slow steps towards her, "it looks like you're doing the one thing I asked you not to do."
Jesse pressed her back against the door, feeling her heart beat louder with every step he took. "Pete, what's in the basement?" she asked, through trembling lips. "Please, just tell me. I promise I won't be mad."
Pete didn't stop until there was almost no space between them. Jesse flinched as he brought a hand up to her cheek, gently cupping her face. She slid her eyes closed, too afraid to even breathe.
"You really should listen when I tell you things," he said, bringing his hand down to her neck and squeezing it hard.
Jesse gasped sharply, bringing her hands up to push him away, but the harder she fought, the tighter his grip became.
"Pete...p-please," she gasped, squeezing her eyes shut against the anger broiling behind his hard glare.
She desperately clamored against him, fighting for air, her feet kicking out sporadically between them.
"You will learn to do as you are told," he hissed, leaning further into her space. "Do you understand me?"
Jesse jerked her head in a nod, willing to agree to anything for him to release her air passage.
Pete pushed her away in disgust and she collapsed to the ground, hacking dry coughs as she brought trembling hands to cover her neck.
"If you so much as look at that door again, you'll regret it," Pete warned, reaching over her to retrieve the screwdriver she had dropped in their exchange, then deliberately stepped over her as he made his exit.
He left Jesse on the floor curling into herself to hide her sobs.
Michonne leaned against the open doorway of Rick's study, silently watching and admiring the view as he worked. He was arched over his drafting table, so intently focused, she didn't think he knew she was there.
"You know a picture'll last longer," he said without lifting his eyes from the blueprints in front of him.
Michonne rolled her eyes but smirked. "I came to tell you dinner's almost ready."
"Did Carl have anything to do with it?"
"Not this time. Although, he did say he wanted to help out in the kitchen more," Michonne told him.
Rick glanced over his shoulder at her. "Is that right?"
"I may have told him he'd be stuck on an instant noodle diet in college if he didn't at least learn the basics," she admitted.
Rick chuckled, turning back to his work.
As a growing teenager, Carl had a healthy appetite so today was likely a reality check he hadn't seen coming.
"I told him we could talk about a car, if he keeps his grades up and passes the driving test," he told her.
"I heard," she said, coming further into the room. She wrapped her arms around him from behind and leaned over his shoulder to look at what he was working on. "These look good," she commended, bringing a hand up to run her fingers through his hair. "Are they for the King project?"
"Mmhmm," he returned, turning to kiss the side of her face. "Our first meeting with Ezekiel is coming up. I'm hoping to get these drafts finished before then."
"Are we still meeting him and his wife for dinner next week? After everything I've heard about the man, I'm dying to know if he lives up to the hype."
"Yeah," Rick chuckled. "Trust me, you won't be disappointed."
Ezekiel King was a renowned real estate developer, known throughout the Atlanta metro area for his ambitious green building projects. He was also well known for his eccentricity.
He and Rick were recently introduced through a mutual friend after Ezekiel expressed an interest in collaborating on a project with Dixon & Grimes Building Co.
Daryl only agreed to the project under the condition that he would not have to deal with Ezekiel's idiosyncrasies after hours. So when Ezekiel invited them to dinner to celebrate their new partnership, Rick knew Michonne would make a much better plus-one than his ornery business partner.
The collaboration was an opportunity to design and build something impactful, so if that meant sitting through a dinner with a man rumored to have a pet tiger then, so be it.
"I feel like my eyes are starting to cross," he admitted, lifting one hand to push his black rimmed glasses up on his forehead.
"Take a break," Michonne murmured in his ear.
Rick sighed, turning on his work bench to face her. "I gotta get these concepts finished."
"Yes, but not tonight. They'll still be here in the morning," she told him, bringing her fingers up to remove his glasses. She carefully placed them on the desk and proceeded to massage his scalp.
Rick exhaled, relishing in her touch.
"I've been thinking," she started, smoothing back his hair, "it's been a while since we took a vacation."
Rick exhaled a soft laugh. "A while? Try two years."
"It hasn't been that long has it?" she asked, pausing for a moment. "Where did we go?"
Rick snorted. "Don't tell me you forgot about the Orlando debacle?"
Realization dawned over her and she dropped her head back with a groan. "Magic Kingdom," she mumbled and Rick laughed again.
"Uh huh."
"Judith threw up on the Mad Hatter," she recalled, shuddering at the memory of the Exorcist style chaos that ensued inside that tea cup.
Rick nodded with a wince. "That's because she rushed through eating her dip-n-dots and then ate Maya's without telling us."
"Was that before or after RJ had the accident in the Astro Orbiter?"
"After, I think," he offered, unsure.
"That's right," she bemoaned, "we ran out of spare clothes for you to change into at that point, so you bought those god-awful Donald Duck swimming trunks and wore them for the rest of the damned day."
Rick threw his head back in laughter, remembering the look of sheer disdain on her face when he showed her what the boys had picked out from the gift shop. "Whatever happened to those trunks, by the way?"
"I burned them," she said.
"I can't tell if you're joking or not," he chuckled, uncertain.
"Good." She turned to sit on his lap. "So can we start planning for a winter vacation? We're long overdue for a do-over."
Rick gently stroked her back as his eyes wandered back to the blueprints on his desk.
Michonne hooked her finger under his chin, drawing his focus back on her. "Would it help if I bat my eyes and said pretty please?"
"Depends."
"On what?"
Rick grinned deviously. "You know what."
Michonne rolled her eyes unable to stop giggling at how ridiculously persistent he was. She sat up straight, wrapping her arms around his neck, playing along. As she leaned forward, she whispered in the sultry voice she knew he liked, "Can we start planning a winter getaway," she lightly nipped at his ear for good measure before adding, "pretty please, Daddy?"
Rick felt his dick jump at the words and hugged her closer. "We can go anywhere you want," he told her, leaning forward intending to seal their agreement with a kiss.
But before he could the sound of something crashing and breaking on the floor, somewhere down the hall interrupted them.
The noise was quickly accompanied by a little voice proclaiming, "I didn't do it!" quickly followed by another saying, "Yes, you did!"
Rick sighed. "On second thought, what if we left the kids with Daryl this time?"
Michonne nodded her agreement. "Good idea."
A/N: I'll be honest, I was hesitant to write some parts of this b/c of the imagery but I wanted to give a clearer picture of what life is like inside the Anderson household in juxtaposition to our beloved Grimes. And let's be real, these characters are from the TWD universe - I like to think fans of the show have a tougher stomach than most.
Cleo Griffith - to answer your question, the Judith Grimes in this story is the same Judith Grimes we know and love from the show. If she seems OOC let's just credit that to her being aged up in this fic :)
Thank you as always for your support! I'm enjoying this more than I thought I would, so I appreciate all of your feedback.
Last thing -I don't own the rights to Where the Green Grass Grows, that's all Tim McGraw, but after listening to it, I could definitely picture it on a Rick Grimes playlist.