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“—tired of you telling me how to live my life! You have your own life to worry about!”
Brady shakes his head. “Why can’t you see that I’m only trying to protect you?”
“Hold on for a minute, guys,” I say loudly, trying to cut through their yelling.
“Protecting me.” Dylan barks out a laugh. “What makes you think I need your protection?”
The sink groans, a god-awful sound that has my stomach clenching with worry.
“Dammit, Dy?—”
“Hey! Shut up.” My shout is louder than both of theirs, and they whip their heads in my direction, misdirecting their anger at me. There’s no time for them to start in on me, though. The water jets out of the faucet, fast as a bullet, and the pipes creak, a final death scream, before something somewhere bursts and the faucet shoots straight off the sink like a geyser.
“Oh, what the fuck?” I scramble back and search for something to stop the water. “The water line,” I call to them over the roar of water. Puddles have already formed on the floor and counter.
Another creak and burst of water shoots out from the bottom cabinet, hitting my legs. Dammit. I grab a spatula and stab it into the hole where the faucet used to be and hold on as the force of the water tries to propel the wooden utensil into the air.
Both of my brothers are wide eyed and speechless. About time. Who knew all it would take is the complete destruction of our kitchen?
Raising my eyebrows at them, I jerk my chin toward the water that’s blasting onto my legs. My socks are soaked through. “Help me, you idiots.”
Brady and Dylan forget about their argument and rush over.
“Holy shit.” Dylan drops into a puddle and searches for the shut-off valve under the sink. I shift to the side to give him better access.
“I’ll go to the mainline.” Brady sprints out of the kitchen and immediately releases a string of curses. “We’ve got a huge fucking problem, Austin!”
“Just get to the main shutoff!”
My biceps strain from fighting with the water. Small bursts of water that are making their way around the handle of the spatula soak the wood, the surface growing slicker by the second.
I can’t hold this for much longer. “Dylan.”
“Got it,” he calls over the water.
The pressure suddenly abates, and the pipe under the cabinet stops spewing water, but the rush of fluid comes from deeper inside the condo. What the hell is going on? I leave the spatula where it’s at and grab a towel. Dylan pops up, pants and face dripping wet. I shove the cloth against his chest and he grunts.
“I had to put my face in the blast to get to the shutoff.” He scrubs his cheeks and blinks water from his eyes.
“Did it cool you off?” I take off my socks and toss them into the sink. The chicken breasts are swimming, and the lemons are scattered across the floor.
“He’s not even listening to me.”
“Because he thinks he knows what’s best for you,” I say and move toward the hallway.
Dylan tosses the towel on the counter and follows. “Yeah, well, I don’t want to just be a lawyer. You’re not one, and no one gave you shit about it.”
I side-eye him. “Are you kidding me?”
A bewildered look flashes across his face. He may be twenty-two now, but he’s still the youngest and the most sheltered. The only reason he doesn’t know about all the lectures I got whenI decided to go to culinary school is because I didn’t turn them into a fight. Dylan was too wrapped up in high school to pay much attention to what I went through.
Water gushes out of the hallway bathroom, the pipes having burst inside there as well. The floors are going to be ruined. We’ll be lucky if the bottom half of the drywall is salvageable after this.
“They gave you a hard time about culinary school?”
“No one liked what I did either,” I tell him with a shrug. “They said I’d end up wasting years of my life, only to end up working at a fast-food joint.” Which makes the dream job I’ve kept a secret far out of my reach. No one in my family will ever respect me if I leave the Crystal Chandelier to open my own food truck.
“But they’re all so proud of you now.” He frowns. “How’d you manage that?”
