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“He took my clothes!” Cale yells, old hurt in his voice.
Dad called, fit to be tied, because they were going after each other because Cole took Cale’s clothes.
“Go upstairs and pack your own suitcase. You need—”
“Pajamas, and something to wear tomorrow including underwear. And don’t bother bringing your swim trunks because Papaw isn’t taking you swimming no matter how much you beg,” he says as he runs toward the staircase, his mocking verbatim of what I told them twenty minutes ago.
I blow a mildly frustrated breath out before smiling down at Cale.
He blinks up at me, and I can tell by the way he quickly darts his eyes away that he’s feeling guilty about something.
“Is there something you need to tell me?”
He shakes his head, his lips forming a flat line.
“Can you bring some apple juice with us to Papaw’s house? He doesn’t ever have anything to drink but water or that stinky, thick milk.”
My lip curls in disgust as memories of my own childhood threaten to invade my senses. “Buttermilk is the worst.”
He nods his agreement, and I turn around and head to the kitchen.
The sound of his suitcase zipper follows me out of the room. By the time I turn to peek around the edge of the doorframe, I see him shuffling across the room and stuffing his swim trunks under the cushion of what Madison called a settee last week.
I chuckle as I grab an unopened bottle of juice from the pantry to bring with us before heading back to the foyer.
I’m leaving the boys overnight with my dad at his insistence. He wants to spend more time with the boys, and despite him being the one to tell me I needed help with them rather than them being at the store all the time, I think he misses them.
It’s a trial basis. Although I’m not as anxious as I was when Emily was taking them to lunch in Detroit, I’ve always hated it when I had to leave the boys. I had to do it so much when I was playing for the Ice Crusaders, I told myself once I was done with them, I’d never do it again.
“Don’t leave without me!” Cole screams from the top of the stairs as if we’re trying to rush outside to the car before he can make it down to us.
“Careful,” I remind him when he gets in a rush.
I swear I should wrap these kids in bubble wrap.
Cale, ever the helpful child, rushes across the room to help his brother. Or at least that’s what I presume until he leans in and whisper-yells, “He’ll know if you take your trunks!”
Cole’s guilty eyes dart up to mine.
“Cale wanted apple juice to take to Papaw’s. Is there anything you’d like me to grab for you?” I ask, needing to offer him the same opportunity I allowed for his brother.
“Apple juice,” Cole snaps out.
I hold the bottle up. “Got it. You two can share this one. You’re only staying one night. Are we ready to go?”
His eyes are frantic as he stares at me. “Umm.”
“Apple sauce!” Cale screams, his twin shaking his head frantically.
“I want apple sauce!”
“Apple juice and apple sauce? You’re sure?”
Both boys nod.
“Okay. Wait right here and I’ll grab it for you.”
Sure enough, no sooner do I get ten feet away, does the sound of a second zipper and scuttling little feet carry me out of the room.
