Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
MILES
SUNDAY DINNER
It felt like months since I was last at Sunday dinner, listening to West bitch about the butter I got on his fancy suit.
In reality, it had only been a week, and he still wasn’t letting it go.
“I have a meeting as soon as I get back to Atlanta tonight,” he warned. “Get anything on my clothes, and I will personally shove your head in the toilet and flush.”
“Like a swirly?” I laughed. “You’d give me a swirly?”
“And what kind of meeting starts that late on a Sunday?” Easton asked, shoveling a forkful of tuna patties and rice into his mouth. “Did you pay for this meeting? Does she work by the hour? Will she spank—”
“Easton!” Grams gasped, smacking his arm as I nearly choked on my drink.
West exhaled hard, his patience wearing thinner by the second. “I didn’t make all this money by only working nine-to-five.”
“Speaking of all your money,” I cut in, waving my fork at him. “I’m gonna cancel the guy we hired to repaint the front porch.” All conversations screeched to a halt. Every set of eyes snapped to me. “I’m in the mood to do it myself,” I added, shrugging like it wasn’t a big deal.
“Ever since I bought that house,” West laughed, “your only interest has been living in it. Why the sudden change?”
Normally, I’d tell my brothers everything. Even Jesse and my wide-eyed grandparents would get the full rundown. But Loxley’s secret wasn’t mine to tell. Keeping my promise to her meant keeping everyone away from the house while she was there. Which meant keeping the painters away.
What did I know about painting a porch?
Nothing.
But I’d figure it out, or at least pretend to until Loxley was gone, then conveniently change my mind. It wasn’t like I was in a hurry to get it done. The deal was that I’d live in the house for a couple of years while West had it revamped. Then I’d move out so he could sell it.
I’d never liked being out in the middle of nowhere by myself, away from whatever may be going on in town. But with Loxley there, I was thankful for the privacy. She made it feel less like a cave and more like a home.
Then again, Loxley wouldn’t be there forever. She’d leave when the time was right. And I’d be alone out there again.
“Earth to Miles,” Gramps huffed, knocking me out of my thoughts.
I blinked, clearing my throat. “Sorry—what now?”
“West asked why you changed your mind about the porch,” Easton reminded me, clearly amused by how deep I’d just spiraled. “DIY is my thing, not yours.”
“I don’t know,” I shrugged. “Just wanna do something different.”
Gramps snorted. “If you wanna do something different, we could try catching some sturgeon next week. We don’t need any more catfish and bass in the freezer.”
“Oh, yeah…” I rubbed the back of my neck, pushing my plate away. “About fishing next week. I need to take a rain check.”
The chaos that followed was instant.
Grams gasped and stood so fast her chair toppled backward.
Jesse clapped both hands over Max’s ears like I’d just cursed in church.
Easton choked on his food, nearly sending tuna patty out of his nose.
And West, looking entirely too serious, ripped off his suit jacket and ran a hand through his hair like he was preparing to operate on me.
And then, in the midst of it all, Gramps threw up his hands. "What the fudge crackers with a side of mashed potatoes is going on here?!"
I stared at them, completely dumbfounded.
“What?” I asked.
“Ms. Ellison was right,” Grams cried. “You’re sick, and it’s worse than we thought.”
Ms. Ellison? What did Grams’ old friend have to do with this?
“She said you were sick,” Jesse nodded solemnly. “She babysat Max yesterday, and when I picked him up, she asked how you were. But dang it, I didn’t believe her.”
“How bad is it?” West asked, gripping my shoulder like he was about to hear some very bad news. “What do we need to do? Money is no object, little brother.”
“Will you lunatics stop? I’m fine!” I laughed.
But Grams wasn’t convinced. “Ms. Ellison heard from Annie at the grocery store, who heard from Harold the butcher, who heard from Mr. Ghesalt, the barber down at Tunes & Tresses, who heard from Linc, that you were sick.”
“And Linc said it must be serious, because you canceled your night out with him at Fiddlers, and called in sick to work,” Jesse added. “I mean, I haven’t lived here long, but if there’s one thing I know, it’s that you don’t call in sick.”
“Yeah,” Easton wheezed, still recovering from his near-death choking experience. “I told Jesse we might need to find a new babysitter because Ms. Ellison was slipping. Now I owe her an apology.”
“You people are insane,” I muttered, rubbing my temples. “I just needed a day off. I needed to relax.”
“Well, that’s all fine and dandy,” Gramps huffed, “but pushing your plate away when it’s still half full and saying you can’t fish, that’s when we really got concerned.”
They all stared at me expectantly. Even Max, his little eyes wide, his jaw slack in utter disbelief.
I scrambled for something—anything—to say.
“Captain has me on a special assignment,” I finally blurted. “That’s all.”
“Is it dangerous?” Grams wailed.
For crying out loud. “No, Grams. But I can’t talk about it.”
More silence. A few side-eyes. Even Max looked skeptical.
Then, just as I thought they were going to press me further, Grams sighed and turned to Jesse. “Are you still going to that concert next week?”
“It’s been canceled,” she pouted. “Loxley Adams must be the one that’s really sick. She’s canceled her shows for the next two weeks.”
My stomach dropped.
“Oh dear,” Grams fretted. “That’s a shame. We loved listening to her when she was in town for the festival.”
“She’s my favorite,” Jesse agreed. “And Easton getting those tickets was such a sweet surprise, but—”
“You know what?” I shot to my feet, pulling my phone from my pocket like it had just buzzed. “I have to go. Gramps, we will fish again soon, I promise. Grams, dinner was amazing. Easton, Jesse, Max, my main little man, try listening to Sinatra. West? Have fun with your hooker tonight.”
My words were coming out faster than I could think, but I couldn’t safely listen and lie to them anymore. Especially when Loxley’s name was brought up. One day, I’d tell them the truth, but right now, I just needed to get the hell home.