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“I’m not that pregnant.” I rolled to my knees and had to admit I was a tiny bit winded. “I have been eating a lot of candy though.” I laughed and got to my feet then crossed the room to grab the cane.
I passed it to him and Co used it to take a couple of steps toward me. I hoped he hadn’t hurt himself with his sudden movement. As per usual, Butch circled around us, excitedly barking.
Then my brother tossed the cane against the chair and dragged me in for a hard hug.
My eyes went damp all over again as I hugged him back.
“Does Dad know?”
“You’re the first.”
“Ezra is gonna shit.”
“Nice.” When I stepped back to open the bedroom door, B charged down the hall as if she’d been imprisoned. Probably heading right back to her daddy. “You know you’ll have to clean up that firefighter language around my kid.”
“Like your kid won’t swear.”
“I’m trying to clean up my act.”
“Sure.”
I leaned into him and rested my head on his shoulder. “Are we okay?”
“We will be.”
“That’s good enough for me.” I felt as if a whole car had been lifted off my shoulders. Cohen still looked haunted, but nothing like he had been when I walked in the room.
“So, how do you think Dad will react?”
“Eh, he’s getting old. He might be excited about it.”
“I hope so.”
Cohen slung his arm around my shoulders, and we staggered down the hall. I noticed he left the cane behind, but I didn’t call him on it. With my brother, progress came in fits and starts.
He was like his sister that way.
“Uncle. Man.”
“Shh. I didn’t tell Dad yet.”
“Tell Dad what?”
I winced at my father’s voice. “Hey, guys,” I said as we came out. My dad’s head was in the fridge.
Lucky was sitting at the dining room table, a sweating beer in front of him. Immediately, he rose. “You need help?”
Cohen waved him off and hobbled to the table. “I got it. So, you knocked up my sister, huh?”
A crash came from the kitchen.
“What?!”
I kicked Cohen in his good foot. “Way to go, jerk.”
“Ow.” He dropped into a chair. “I’m injured, remember?”
“Yeah, keep talking, and you’ll have another broken leg.”
