Page 17 of Big Dill

“Hotel. Which one? The Ritz?”

I snort. “Smart ass.”

“Amateur.”

“Really, I would have guessed professional. You’re so good at it,” I add playfully.

She grins. “Sounds like your family runs this town. What business does your mom and dad manage?” she asks, curiosity in her tone.

My chest tightens at the thought of my father—how he walked out when I was six. I bite back a humorless laugh. Apparently, life’s cruel joke runs in families, because Sadie’s husband did the same damn thing. So did Verna’s and Theresa’s. It’s like a goddamn pandemic. Honestly, what the hell is wrong with people? Sure, small towns aren’t for everyone, but you do what you gotta do when you have a family.

“Dad’s not in the picture,” I say finally, failing to keep my tone neutral. “Ma works at the Churchill Falls generating station.”

She brushes crumbs from her fingers, eyes widening slightly. “Oh…Brody, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”

“It’s okay,” I assure her.

“Is that why you wanted to be here? To be close to your mom?”

“And my aunts and sister, and her kids.” I shake my head. “They’re all single, and I like to be here for them.”

“Jars,” she murmurs, almost teasing, and I pause mid-turn. She crinkles her nose. “They can be hard to open.”

I go still for a second, confused, then it clicks. She’s teasing, yes—but she gets it. Totally. She knows exactly what I mean.

“Your sister…raising two kids alone can’t be easy,” she continues.

“Yeah. Abby is six and Mason is five. Ray left when his kids were toddlers. Asshole,” I mutter, voice tight.

She smirks, a glint of humor and sympathy in her eyes. “I wasn’t too far off with the unicorn comment after all, now was I?”

“I guess not,” I say, and the corners of my mouth twitches into a real smile. She’s sharp, she’s funny, and—damn it—she keeps getting under my skin without even trying. And somehow, I don’t mind. Not even a little.

I slide the eggs onto a plate and set them in front of her. Steam curls up between us, rich and buttery.

“Aren’t you eating?” she asks.

“I will.” I reach for the pan again. “Just wanted to feed you first.”

She blinks at me like the concept needs decoding, and that’s when I’m certain no man—other than her brother—has ever put her needs ahead of their own before. I turn back to the stove and crack two more eggs, giving her a moment to herself.

That’s when the front door swings open and boots stomp snow off on the mat.

“How ya gettin’ on?” a familiar voice sings out, too cheery for this time of day.

Jami straightens, shoulders lifting instinctively. “Who’s that?”

“Sadie,” I say. “Looks like you’re meeting my sister sooner rather than later.”

She frowns. “She has a key?”

“Doesn’t need one.”

Her eyes flick to the kitchen archway. “It wasn’t locked?”

I bite back a grin. “This is Churchill Falls, Jami. No one locks their doors and no one knocks. You’ll get used to it.”

“If you say so,” she mutters, clearly unconvinced.