“Well, I’m a fan. Let’s go!”
We get out of the car and grab our overnight bags from the trunk. My fingers itch to take Wes’ hand, but it’ll just feed off a lot of questions from my sister that I’m not ready to answer yet. Wes doesn’t reach for mine either, leaving it up to me how we’re going to be around each other this weekend.
When we’re halfway up the path, the door swings open and twoMinionsholdingNerfguns storm out and race down the porch steps. “Uncle Jared! Uncle Jared!” they yell before slamming into me full force. I wrap an arm around each of them and haul them against my chest.
Laughter bubbles out of me. “Oh no! KillerMinions! Please have mercy!”
Wes laughs, too, his blue eyes shimmering.
“It’s just us, Uncle Jared!” Mia chirps, clinging to my arm.
I sigh. “Oh, thank God!” They both giggle. I place them back on the ground, and then they’re right up in Wes’ face.
“Are you Wes?” Mason asks. I love the way he pronounces Wes’ name with a small lisp.
“I sure am. You must be Mia.”
“Nooo!” my nephew wines. “I’m Mason.”
“Ahhhh, sorry about that. It’s just… your uncle told me Mason was the youngest, but you’re a big guy.”
I shake my head, smiling. This is so typically Wes.
Mason pushes out his chest. “I grew a whole inch last month.”
“You’re such a liar,” Mia groans.
“Am not!”
“Are too!”
“Now, what is this ruckus?! Kids, back away from your uncle’s friend. Don’t scare him off. Go help your dad.” Mia and Mason complain, but soon run inside, theirNerfguns forgotten on the path.
Janelle heads straight toward me, wrapping her arms around me. She’s tiny compared to me, and I lift her off her feet.
“It’s so good to see you,” she sighs. I put her down, and she tilts her head. “You look good, little brother. Real good.”
I scratch the back of my neck. “Uhm… thanks.” Then I gesture at Wes. “This is my friend, Wes.”
My sister turns to him, smiling even wider. “Oh em gee, hi! Are you a hugger? I’m a hugger.”
Wes laughs. “Of course I’m a hugger. Who isn’t?” They hug, and he grins at me over Janelle’s shoulder. “Thank you for having me,” he says as they move apart.
“Of course! Anyfriendof Jared’s is always welcome.” Janelle throws me a knowing look, but I pretend I don’t notice. “Come on. We made pumpkin and cinnamon muffins. I hope you’re hungry.” She walks up the path, wearing her usual yoga gear whenever she’s off work, her long black hair braided with pink and blue beads.
“Starving,” Wes exclaims, although he snacked the entire way here. He eyes me when I shake my head at him. “What? I’m a big guy.” He leans in, lowering his voice. “As you very well know.”
“You’re a brat, is what you are,” I retort. My lips tingle with the urge to shut him up with a kiss, or with something else. Wes just tips his head back and laughs. “Your brother is such a jokester!” he tells Janelle.
She frowns. “Jared? A jokester?Pft.”
The house smells of cinnamon and hot chocolate. Toeing off our shoes, we leave our bags on a small bench in the entryway,then follow Janelle into the large kitchen that looks like a bomb just dropped in a bakery. There are utensils and trays filled with baked goodies everywhere. A long table is littered with crayons, masks, face paint, and candy.
Owen is busy pulling a tray of muffins from the oven, a kitchen towel slung over his shoulder, his blond hair a mess. He turns, beaming at us, his black-framed glasses blurred with condensation. He’s wearing an apron around his front that saysThis Guy Rubs His Own Meatin bright red letters. “You’re here! Amazing,” he beams, maneuvering around a pool of spilled cocoa on the floor. He places the muffins on the counter before pulling me into a fierce hug. “Good to see you, man.”
“Good to see you, too, Owen. This is Wes. We work together.”
Wes holds out his hand, and they shake enthusiastically.
