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She shrugged, jaw working on a bite of her roll. “Once a week or so. Less than I talk to Adaline and Greer. More than I talk to Erik though.”
“Yeah, well, Erik has horrible conversation skills.”
She laughed. “That’s rich, coming from you.” Her eyes turned speculative. “I think I have more conversations with Parker than I do you, actually.” Before I could respond to that, Poppy patted my arm. “Don’t worry, I don’t take it personally.”
What Harlow said the other night at the bar chose that precise moment to resurface in my head. Something about how unaware I was about the way I showed up in relationships.
I didn’t think I was unaware, but maybe it was more that I didn’t spend any time picking apart those interactions either. My mental energy always felt like a limited, finite resource. If I wasn’t careful, I could go through the day and be tapped completely dry. Inviting in too many opinions drained it just as easily as too much stimulation, too much energy in the room. I could do nights like this on occasion, but if I didn’t have time in my own space to recharge, that’s when things got dicey.
But hearing that from my sister, I felt shame. For the first time in my life, I wished that I could undo just a little bit of my time away. Make more of an effort. See my siblings more. Talk on the phone more regularly.
But I couldn’t. Now, it seemed, I was destined to sit at a table full of my family and wonder what signs I’d missed of my little brother struggling.
From the other side of me, I could tell Harlow was half-listening to our conversation, half-listening to whatever Sage was talking about with Jamari—who was across from her.
Blissfully unaware of the guilt trip I was forcing myself on, Poppy nudged my elbow.
“Watch,” she whispered. “I’ll get him to pay attention again.”
“Oh great,” I muttered.
My sister, so fresh-faced and pretty and outgoing, set her elbows on the table and leaned forward, aiming a winning smile at Cannon Bishop—the veteran defensive back. He was the biggest of the four who’d come. He hadn’t spoken much at dinner, but not because he wasn’t friendly. He just seemed a bit more reserved than his teammates.
“Cannon,” Poppy said smoothly, “tell me about yourself. Parker never talks about his friends, but I’ve always assumed it’s because he doesn’t have any.”
Everyone at the table laughed, and Parker blinked, finally snapping out of his stupor.
Cannon looked between Poppy and Parker, his mouth edging up in a smile. “What do you want to know?”
“Married? Girlfriend?” she asked, blinking innocently.
Cannon’s brow furrowed. “Uh, neither.”
Parker’s head snapped up fully, his eyes blazing. “No, Poppy.”
Poppy tilted her head. “No what?”
He jabbed a finger in the air. “No, Poppy. My teammates swore an oath to me when they agreed to come that you were fully off-limits. I will personally murder anyone on my team who even thinks about flirting with you.”
Poppy sat back with a sigh. “And everyone wonders why I’m still single. The sheer number of siblings in this family makes it impossible for me to meet anyone.”
“Parker’s no fun,” Jamari said, aiming a small wink at Poppy. “I’d risk it if you want to go out for a drink.”
She perked up. “Really?”
Parker turned in his chair, leveling a lethal glare at Jamari. Amused silence fell around the table as we watched their wordless exchange. “Really?”
Jamari laughed. “Maybe not.”
Poppy deflated.
“Cannon’s not your type anyway,” Jamari added, shoveling another bite of potatoes onto his fork. “You need someone like me with a bit more personality.”
The big guy to his left cocked an eyebrow but left the statement untouched.
Parker didn’t. “Cannon, unfortunately, is exactly Poppy’s type. Big, quiet and a little scary.” Then he leaned forward and eyed the man in question. “Which is why he’s staying away from her.”
“I’m just trying to eat my roast, dude,” Cannon muttered under his breath. “No one’s touching your sister.”
