Page 18 of Sweet Redemption

The table erupts in laughter, and I quickly join in, not wanting them to know I was lost in my own thoughts. It happens more than I want to admit. Kerrigan smiles at me. “Don’t worry, Uncle Henny. I’ve got your back.”

She’s fourteen going on forty, and she’s had my heart since the first time Everly brought her home.

She rests her head on my shoulder and links her pinky with mine the way she did when she was little. And for the first time in months, I relax.

I’m home.

“Istill don’t understand why you rented a house.” Mom puts the lid on the container of leftovers she insists I take with me. “There’s plenty of room here.”

She’s not wrong. Their house is massive. It had to be to fit all of us plus Uncle Tommy, who’s lived with us for as long as I can remember. But there was absolutely no way . . .

“It’s not a big deal.” I add the leftover Boston cream pie I’d picked up from The Busy Bee earlier. “Bodhi and I need to figure out our new norm, and it’ll be easier if we’re in our own space while we do it.”

Not that I think we’ll be alone often. We’re two houses down from Gracie and three from Evie. Leo is around the corner, Nix is maybe ten minutes away, and Mom and Dad are about fifteen minutes, if you hit the one and only traffic light in town.

Safe to say we’re a little codependent. Even when I was living in Chicago, I spoke to all my siblings and their spouses on an almost daily basis. Our group chat’s unhinged. Definitely not safe for work.

“I know you need your space.” Her smile softens. “But I can’t help that I worry.” She cups my face in her hand and blinks back a tear. “I’m worried about you. How are you really doing, Hendrix?”

“I’m okay, Mom.” My answer comes out on autopilot. “Please don’t cry.”

No one tells you when you lose your spouse, you end up comforting everyone around you. No one tells you a lot of things.

“Who’s going to watch Bodhi when your season starts? Have you interviewed any nannies?”

Why do moms have this sixth sense about the things you’re ignoring? The ones you know you need to handle even if you’d rather be waterboarded. “Gracie said she’s got him for me until I find a nanny. I’ll get on it next week.”

She nods, squaring her shoulders and lifting her face. “Will you be at your father’s game this weekend?”

It might be a question, but there’s only one acceptable answer, especially now before hockey season starts, even if I have a legitimate excuse for skipping the games.

Dad’s basically the GOAT.

He was the greatest quarterback to ever play the game before he retired and eventually became head coach of the Philadelphia Kings. Games are as much a family affair now as they were when I was young, with Dad and another uncle coaching, as well as a few cousins and friends playing.

As if summoned by Mom’s words, Dad steps back into the kitchen, wraps an arm around her shoulders, and drops a kiss on the top of her head. “What your mother is trying to say is we’re glad to have you home, Hendrix. Call if you need anything.”

“I will,” I promise.

It’s not like I’m avoiding them. Just protecting my mental health.

There’s a reason my siblings and I all moved out as soon as we could. At one time or another, we’ve all caught them doing things that are burned into our fucking retinas.

Things that should have sent us all to therapy.

It’s all good they’re still madly in love. You’d be hard-pressed to find two people in a healthier relationship than them. But seriously, no one should have to know their parents are having more sex than they are.

It’s just wrong.

Not that I’m gonna say any of that to them.

“I’ll see you at the game.” I kiss Mom’s cheek and run my hand down a sleeping Bodhi’s back, then take him from her. And as I step outside, a soft giggle echoes behind me, followed by what I think is an ass slap, and damn, I just dry heaved.

Fuck me . . . This is exactly why I’m not staying with them.

I’ve been out of the house for a solid decade.

No way in hell would I move back in now.