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Brian and Lauren bicker for most of the drive to their hometown. It’s nice. Makes me wish I had siblings.
When Lauren learned my parents bailed on Thanksgiving in favor of pursuing professional opportunities—my father actually used that phrase—she insisted I spend the holiday with her family. I don’t know her all that well, but I’ve gotten the sense she’s close with her mom but not her dad. She assured me both of her parents would be happy to have the company, though, so here I am, crammed in the back seat with the three bags of laundry Lauren is bringing home. She offered me the passenger seat, but I let Brian ride shotgun. He’s got several inches and plenty of muscle on me.
Lauren exits the highway and we roll through a small, peaceful town. The downtown section reminds me of Canmore, but the houses are more cookie cutter.
She glances in the rearview mirror. “Do you follow hockey?”
“Huh?”
“I mean, I know you have that hot friend who plays for Boston’s team.”
“What hot friend?” Brain asks.
Lauren doesn’t answer him. “Our dad used to play professionally, so if you’re some sort of major hockey fan, don’t bring it up. Not unless you want a long recap of his glory days.”
“Your dad played professionally?”
“Yeah.” Lauren glances at Brian. “Apple fell far from the tree.”
“You’re the worst,” he replies.
Her voice softens. “Did he call after last week?”
“No.” He looks away, out the window.
We pull up to a three-story Victorian with a sprawling, manicured lawn and a brick path leading from the driveway where we park to the front door.
Lauren glances back again. “Anyway, just play dumb about hockey if it comes up. Otherwise you’ll have to listen to the Andrew Reid highlight reel.”
It’s one of those moments in life you wish came with sound effects. I imagine a car squealing to a stop. Mouths gaping. Alarms blaring.
Oh.
My.
God.
I blurt the first thing that comes to mind, which could honestly be worse than what comes out. “Your last name isn’t Reid—it’s Joseph.”
“Yeah, our parents got off to a rocky start. Our mom basically raised us for the first few years. Then they got back together and eventually got married. Anyway, fair warning. Let’s go in, I’m starving.”
Brian and Lauren climb out of the car. I do the same, on complete autopilot. Their mom and Andrew got off to arocky start? Like another woman and child in the picture? They don’t seem to know that, though. Lauren is a year older than me and Elliot, Brian is two years older. Does Elliot’s mom know about them? Lauren definitely isn’t aware the “hot friend” she’s teased me about is her half-brother. Brian doesn’t seem to know the player whose performance he was praising at Putnam’s is related to him.
Reid is a common last name, I guess? But I don’t know. I don’t knowanythingright now, aside from the fact that I’m smack dab in the most uncomfortable situation I’ve ever encountered.
We walk into an expansive foyer.
“You kids made good time.” I turn toward the male voice and freeze.Holy shit.I’m looking at how Elliot will appear in twenty years. The dark hair, the broad shoulders, theeyes. Lauren and Brian don’t resemble Andrew much. Elliot is practically his spitting image.
“Dad, this is Auden,” Lauren says. “One of my friends from school. Her folks are out of town, so I invited her.”
“Nice to meet you, Auden.”
“You, too,” I manage to say.
“Come on into the kitchen, you guys. Your mom’s afraid to leave it unattended.”
I follow Lauren and Brian in a daze. What the hell am I supposed to do? I don’t think I can just sit across from the man who abandoned Elliot and smile while he carves a turkey.
