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MICAH
I parkbehind Gavin’s Range Rover, two houses down from Jonas and Autumn’s place. Our Sunday get-togethers are the best tradition started with our group. Friends, family, and food—three of my favorite F’s. My other favorite F wouldn’t be appropriate in a group setting. Not my kink.
Feet from the front door, hickory hits my nose as rock music vibrates in my eardrums. I knock and Autumn yells from the other side. “It’s open.”
I twist the knob and step inside. In the open floor plan, I spy Autumn as she bustles around the kitchen. Takes buns out of packages, dumps cold sides into bowls, grabs condiments and toppings from the fridge. Her pace makes me dizzy.
I set down a bag with beer, tortilla chips, and salsa. “Anything you need help with?” Mom taught me and Shelly to always offer assistance, especially when we are guests. Long as Autumn doesn’t need help cooking, I will pitch in.
My cooking skills are a running joke in the Reed family. When we were growing up, Mom wanted to make sure we were all—me, Shelly, and Dad—self-sufficient in the kitchen. That we knew how to make basic meals in case she wasn’t able to. Let’s just say I flunked from day one when I made gummy pasta with burned tomato sauce. Not my finest hour.
Can I cook now? If following microwave directions counts, then yes. If ordering takeout or dining out counts, then yes again. Basic breakfast foods and I are friends. But it works best for everyone if I stay away from stoves and ovens. Besides, every now and again, Mom stops by because she is “in the area”—she lives a solid twenty minutes from my house—and brings me a casserole dish of my childhood favorites.
Or nights like tonight. Everyone leaves with a container of leftovers. Autumn demands it. No matter what, I never starve or burn down the house.
“Could you dump the snack foods into the big bowls?” She points to a stack of large bowls at the end of the counter.
“On it.”
Maybe Shelly told her not to let me near anything that requires heating. If so, I need to thank her later.
As I dump cheese puffs into a bowl, Jonas comes in from the backyard with Clementine on his heels. She is the cutest little girl ever. A spitting image of her mom, but with additional sass and a major bond with Spartan, Jonas’s husky.
“Hey, man. Didn’t realize you were here.” He steps up to me and we backslap hug. “Gavin and Cora are out back with your sister and Erin.”
“What? They left Autumn in here to do everything. Shelly is definitely getting a ration of shit.”
Autumn shoves a large spoon in the coleslaw and spins to face me. “No, leave them be. I forced them outside.”
“But you asked me to help?” I deadpan.
She shrugs. “I like to rotate through my helpers. What can I say?”
A knock at the door has Spartan running to the window and peeking through the blinds. His tail wags just as Jonas opens the door to Penny, Rex, Reznor, Tatyana, and Ashton. Everyone files in and exchanges hugs. The house is abuzz with chatter. Smiles and laughter float around the room easily.
But right now, I feel the odd man out.
Although I’m not the only person without a significant other here, it feels… wrong at my age to be so alone. The moment my thoughts veer down this path, Shelly comes out of nowhere and bumps my shoulder with hers.
“Hey, big brother. What’s new?” I wrap my arms around her and lift her from the floor. She squeals and smacks my back. “Put me down, dumbass.”
I set her back on her feet and she swats my chest. Hard. “Ow! What was that for?”
“Did you really need to pick me up?”
“Are you my sister?” She rolls her eyes. “Nothing too exciting.”
She grabs my hand and leads me out the door to the backyard. “Too crowded in there.” She plops down on the lounger and brings me with her. “Life may not be exciting, but surely there must be something you’ve done since we last spoke.”
Gavin and Cora take a seat across from us. Hickory clouds billow from the smoker, thin out with the mild breeze, and scent the air. A Bluetooth speaker shuffle plays rock music near the house. The late April temperature’s mild enough to not make you sweat outside this time of day.
Three sets of eyes on me feel like a packed concert crowd.
“Work is much the same. Maybe less chaotic.”
“The blonde?” Gavin pipes up and I want to slap him.
“Yep.” I grit my teeth.
“What blonde?” Shelly asks Gavin.
Great. Here goes the attention I do not want or need.
“The bartender he banters with. You remember her from our last outing?” Shelly rests a finger on her lips, deep in thought. Gavin trudges forward and I want to smack him upside the head. “The one getting Micah all hot and bothered.”
Shelly taps her lips and looks to the heavens. “Must’ve been otherwise distracted. Tell me more, big brother. What’s her name?”
If I don’t open up now, Shelly will be on my ass all night. Annoying the hell out of me.
