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Maybe I should’ve just suffered through it.
“He’s not chasing me off,” I said, begrudgingly speaking up for my brother. “The more shit he gives me, the longer I want to work there. Out of spite.”
Dad chuckled, his focus on the television once again. Mom, on the other hand, just looked concerned. She let go of my arm and shifted next to me. “You should have a better relationship with your brother.” She stood up. “After all this time, the two of you should be able to get along.” She went into the kitchen, not hiding her frustration. This was something that was gonna come up again when Kyle got here.
I pulled my phone out and considered my text messages. I could probably get someone to call and fake an emergency that I couldn’t miss. Cam would probably come get me. But there was a good chance that both of my parents would recognize his car. I bit my lip, not sure what to do from here.
“You didn’t answer your mother,” Dad pointed out, his attention still on the television.
“Huh?”
He glanced at me. “Are you dating anyone?”
Well, shit. I considered the situation I had myself in. I couldn’t really tell my parents that I was in a relationship with my brother’s friends, ruining the friendships he had with them. Aside from the sheer underhandedness of it, there was the matter of me being involved with three people.
The only thing I could do was lie. I cleared my throat and shook my head. “I’m not in anything serious with anyone. I’ve been trying to figure out what I’m doing with myself more than anything else.”
“There’s no rush to get into anything serious,” Dad said as he nodded, accepting my answer.
“I want grandchildren,” Mom called from the kitchen. “From both of you. Don’t shaft your brother with the responsibility. Because as nice as it would be to see Kyle with a miniatureversion of him, it would be a shame if you didn’t create your own.”
“I’d be a terrible parent,” I said without hesitation. “Plus,” I sat up and turned to look at her, “I didn’t forget all the times you cursed me to have something that would be as bad as I was.”
“Why do you think I want grandchildren?” Mom asked, smirking at me. “So you can’t dodge the suffering you’ve put me through.”
“She’s still a kid.” Dad sighed as he picked up the remote and turned the television up. “If you demand grandkids now, you’re going to end up with a grandchild with one parent, and personally, I’m done raising children.”
That implied that he’d actually raised us. Mom had done most of the work, and from the grumbling coming from the kitchen, she was thinking the same thing. That was how things had been in the house. The only time Dad was involved was when there was punishment that had to be dealt out. Though it was different for Kyle.
Fortunately, they dropped the conversation.
I lost track of time as Mom puttered back and forth from the kitchen to the living room. I watched television with Dad, barely listening as three men around a desk discussed various players. I zoned out, not retaining any of it.
The front door opened, and Kyle walked in. He held a six-pack aloft. “The game hasn’t started, has it?” He sounded excited as he came into the house. He came to a full stop once he got into the living room. “What the hell are you doing here?”
I blinked at him and shrugged. “Mom says I don’t visit her enough. What do you expect me to do?”
“Do you have to do it during football season?” he asked as he dropped the six-pack on the coffee table. “Mom cooked roast. Why are you ruining it for me?”
I shrugged helplessly, but Mom came out of the kitchen and put her hands on her hips. “Stop complaining. I haven’t seen her since Christmas. I need someone to break up the testosterone.”
Kyle made a disgruntled noise and flopped onto the couch next to me. “Shouldn’t you be in the kitchen?”
“Yeah, well . . . ” I sighed and reached forward to snag a beer. I pulled my keys from my purse and popped the top. “I could help Mom cook, but then we all might die. I don’t cook.”
“That’s fair,” Dad said as he sat up and got a beer too. “I don’t want food poisoning.” I offered him my keys, and he popped his beer open. He tapped his bottle against mine. “I know you worked at a bar. Do you watch football there too?”
“No.” I snorted. “I have no idea what these guys are talking about.”
Kyle took my beer from me and took a pointed sip from it, so I didn’t take it back. “Then go to the kitchen,” he huffed out. “Maybe you’ll learn something.”
“Didn’t you have home economics at that school?” Mom asked, coming up behind the couch. She put her hands on her hips. “I don’t remember the curriculum, but I was sure it was supposed to prepare you to live on your own.”
I shook my head. “I know how to boil water and make coffee. That’s all I remember from high school. It seemed like the only thing that was really, truly important.”
Mom sighed and turned to go back into the kitchen. “You can set the table then. I’ve got some wine. It’ll be better to drink than beer.”
“I don’t mind beer,” I protested, but I got up. I went into the kitchen and found her already pouring red wine into two glasses. “He didn’t get an artisan brew. It was okay.”
