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“Neither, actually.” I shake my head. “The Cap asked me to have dinner with them.”
She nods, smirking. “Makes sense. He was always more family to you than any of us anyway.”
Annoyed, I have to clench my jaw to stop myself from saying something smart. Blake looks at me apologetically as he grabs her gently by the elbow. “Bethy.”
“Forget it,” she says then, turning and heading for the house.
Sarah and Hayden look on, a notable decrease in their playfulness making my chest ache.
“Sar, Hay… Love you guys. I’ll see you in a couple days.”
They nod, and Blake reaches out to pat my arm. He doesn’t say anything, but he turns to Hayden and prompts, “You wanna toss the football around, bud?”
Hayden runs for the garage, and Blake earns another tally in the win column. I meet Sarah’s eyes just as she rolls them, and I almost laugh.
She may be rolling her eyes, but it’s not out of annoyance. I know my baby girl well, and that little gesture is like a crack in a dam. It won’t be long before she’s cheering Bucktooth Blake along with me if he keeps this up.
Quickly, I jog over and give her a kiss on the top of the head. “Love you more than words, sweetheart.”
With another crack in her sassy veneer, she wraps her arms around my waist and hugs me tight. “Love you too, Dad. But don’t even think about telling me to have fun today. I refuse.”
And then, she’s walking into the house and out of view.
That kid. I tell ya. She’s going to give me a run for my money these next few years.
With a quick glance to my watch, I realize I need to get this show on the road.
I’m late. And as far as the captain is concerned—late is not great.
Lauren
“Sorry I’m late,” my eldest sister Shell sighs, slamming her bag down on the kitchen counter of my dad’s house. “I had to finish helping prep at the diner, and then run by the liquor store for some beer, and then pick up the kids and Phil at the house.”
I look up from the potatoes I’m currently mashing to take in her frazzled face.
I’ve been working on today’s Thanksgiving dinner for hours, pretty much since seven this morning, but she is the last person I’m going to tell that to.
“It’s okay,” I say softly, knowing Shell has more than enough shit on her plate without me adding to it. She’s eight years older than me, works like a dog to support Phil and her three boys, and does it without complaint. So much so, I personally think she should complain more.
Not to me, of course, but to the person who deserves it—her husband. Frankly, I’d love to be a bystander, cheering her on from the corner of the ring as she puts her verbal fists to him.
Unfortunately, though, I don’t see that in the future. Shell has a soft spot for Phil and his bullshit because they’ve been together since they were kids. She grew up; he didn’t.
“I have everything prepped, just have to finish mashing these potatoes, fixing the green beans, and pull the dressing and turkey out of the oven. You can relax.” The truth is, I have a lot more than that to do, but if anyone deserves to relax, it’s her. In addition to working like a dog now, as the eldest Carroll sister, she was always looking out for Cara and me.
“Perfect,” Phil answers out of nowhere, grabbing one of the beers out of Shell’s bags and heading out of the kitchen and toward the living room.
I spear him with my eyes, but Shell lets it slide. I’ve never been a violent person—in fact, as a doctor, I’ve taken an oath to do no harm—but man, I’d love to harm Phil Whatley a time or two. Or three. Or ten. Yeah, you get the idea.
Our other sister, Cara, the middle child and quietest of the bunch, scoots through the kitchen on her way somewhere and doesn’t slow down.
I glance over my shoulder to watch her strawberry-blond hair go, and then I get back to the potatoes with a sigh.
“I guess she’s in a super-social mood,” Shell comments with more than a hint of sarcasm.
I shrug. Her husband Pete is just like Phil, but Cara also likes to make more work for herself than is necessary. She does this in every aspect of her life—her two toddler-aged kids, her job, her house, pretty much everything. Knowing her, she’s probably been cleaning the bathroom and vacuuming my dad’s room just for the hell of it.
“Laurie, baby, would you mind adding another setting to the table?” my dad asks, stepping into the kitchen and filling Shell’s spot as she leaves to grab some more groceries from her car.
