Page 71 of Monstrous Serpent

I lock my phone and flip it face down on the table. “No.”

“He's posting pictures of them all over his account.” My little brother makes a gagging face. “So stupid. Like we get it, you have a girlfriend. Congratulations, you can stand next to someone in an apple orchard.”

“Apple orchard?”

“Yeah. They went apple picking. In matching sweaters.”

Now it’s my turn to gag.

Davis sighs. “Think he's bringing her to Thanksgiving?”

“Probably.”

“Why can't it just be us?” He shoves a fry in his mouth. “He always brings someone.”

And Mom gushes all over every single one of them.

I love my older brother. But sometimes it would be nice if he showed up by himself and didn’t accidentally turn the whole house into a meet-the-parents audition.

Dad sits down and picks up his drink. “Leave your brother alone.”

My little brother rolls his eyes. “I'm just saying. Every holiday. Every single one.”

“Davis,” Dad says.

“Fine.” He pulls out his phone and starts scrolling. “Whatever.”

Dad takes a sip of his beer, then looks at me. “What about you? Seeing anyone new?”

“No.” I grab my soda and take a drink. “Just concentrating on hockey.”

My knee starts bouncing under the table as I put the glass down. I open my mouth, the words right there, sitting on my tongue. I could say it. Right now. Just say it the way I did with Doyle.

Except Doyle was a slip.

This would be a conversation. With my father. With Davis.

What would I even say? What would it change?

I close my mouth.

Dad’s brows pull together. “You okay, Cody?”

I nod. “Yeah. I'm good.”

“You know I'm here for you.” He glances at Davis, then back to me. “Both of you. Even if it's bad. You're my sons.”

My throat tightens. I stand, grabbing my club off the table. “You might want to rethink that after I kick your ass again.”

“That's five dollars in the swear jar.” Davis doesn't look up from his phone.

I step onto the mat. “Only counts when we're at home.”

“Cody.” Dad gives me the look.

I arch a brow, staring at him. “So you're adding five bucks for that word you used when that guy cut you off on the expressway?”

Dad opens his mouth, pauses, then sits back. “That's . . . Got me there.”