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Cole
Once a month, Ethan, Dad and I took turns hosting a McCoy family lunch. Ida sometimes joined us, but her schedule was less flexible. This month, Ethan was doing the honors.
My brother lived about five minutes from the center of Bluehaven Beach, in a 1960s condo perched on a bluff. The squat, angular building was too minimalist for my taste but undeniably nicer than my dilapidated trailer.
No private beach, though.
Rhea and Lexi tumbled out of the truck, their excitement at going to visit Ethan and their cousin Ava palpable.
“Uncle Ewok!” they chorused as the door swung open, revealing a grinning Ethan.
“Rhe, Lex, good to see you.” He scooped them both up, peppering their faces with stubbly kisses as they giggled and squirmed. “Ava’s inside. She’s got a new board game she’s desperate to play with you. Said something about a challenge match?”
The girls ran in without so much as a second thought.
“Dad’s inside already,” Ethan said, hugging me. “Moaning about his back, of course.”
“Of course. Good to be here.”
Ethan’s eyes narrowed. “Something’s different.”
Holy shit. Could he somehow smell Elara on me? We'd been in the ocean, there was no way. I was being paranoid.
“What do you mean?”
"You're smiling. Like, a lot."
“Nothing’s different, Ethan. Let’s head inside.” I swallowed hard.
“I’ve got my eye on you, little brother.” Technically, he was older than me. By a whopping four minutes and eighteen seconds.
“Whatever you say, Columbo.”
***
I’ll admit it. I was in a fantastic mood. Like, off the charts good. Who wouldn’t be? For two days running, I’d had dangerously good sex with a woman who was way out of my league and a decade my junior.
Not only that, she also didn’t want a relationship. It was perfect—all the fun, none of the complications. I felt like I’d won the lottery.
So, yeah, maybe I was smiling a little bit more than usual. Maybe I laughed a bit too hard at Dad's corny jokes. But every time Ethan narrowed his eyes at me, I made sure to put on a good show of scowling.
I always enjoyed our monthly get-togethers at Ethan's. He had more space than the rest of us, and not having to cook took the pressure off. There were only so many times I could serve variations on chili before the jig was up.
"Uncle Ethan, what is a tamale?"
Ethan plucked one from the steamer. "One of these. Corn, meat, spice, and cheese. Any other questions?"
"They're really yummy!" Ava declared. She was a couple years older than Lexi, and every bit as confident as her dad. "They taste comfy."
Ethan doled out the tamales, and we dug in. They were really fucking good. You know what? They did taste comfy.
"Where did you learn to cook like this?" Dad asked Ethan. “I sure as hell didn’t teach you.”
"Internet, mostly. And practice. You know I eat three times a day? Plenty of chances to hone my craft."
"You've gone broad," I said, "whereas I've zeroed in on perfecting my chili. Who was it who said, 'Never half-ass two things—whole-ass one thing?’"
Ethan thought for a moment. "Ron Swanson?"
