Chapter 19
“Auntie Pop!”
Abbie squeals, spinning on the couch and hanging over the back of it to flash me a toothy grin that has her adorable dimple popping in her chubby cheek. I return the smile and shut my parents’ front door behind me, kicking my shoes off beside my brother’s massive sneakers and Abbie’s ballet flats.
“Hey, sweetie pie. Loving the dress.”
The five-year-old tucks her chin to look at the deep green poofy dress hanging from her tiny frame and pats at her hips. “Daddy got it for me!”
“Damn right he did. Dads rock,” I reply, looking around for both our dads.
Every single Wednesday morning, we have Huntsly family brunches. Despite it being in the middle of the week, it works best for our schedules. Darren doesn’t volunteer at the station today or work from home on his architectural-whatever-it-is, and I make sure to leave my Wednesday mornings open.
My parents retired two years ago, early in some circumstances, but they’ve worked hard and deserved the break. We may have been considered low income for a decent chunk of my childhood, but once my dad started working out of town on the pipeline, things started looking up. Now, they have a big enough savings there’s no need for me to worry myself to death over their future. They do enough of that for me, anyway.
“Yeah, they do,” Abbie sighs happily.
“Why are you teaching my daughter to swear again, Poppy?” Darren asks, sauntering out of the kitchen with a cinnamon roll oozing icing down his knuckles.
He looks like he just rolled out of bed, as per usual. It wouldn’t kill him to brush his hair from time to time, but I haven’t seen him put shit all effort into his appearance since his breakup. He does everything for his daughter. Goes above and beyond every single day, but he doesn’t give himself the same respect.
I eye the cinnamon roll, my stomach growling. “Did you eat all of those?”
He takes a giant bite out of the roll and speaks with his mouth full. “Every last one.”
“No, I see more!” Abbie says, pointing past her dad.
Darren exhales slowly, shaking his head as he swallows. “Betrayed by my own flesh and blood.”
“Ew,” Abbie mutters.
“Ew is right. Give me knuckles, kid.” I extend a fist to her, and she slams hers into it. “That’s my girl.”
Clanging in the kitchen has me dropping a hand to Abbie’s hair and ruffling it before leaving her and my brother in the living room. Darren leans toward me and shoves the rest of his cinnamon roll into his mouth as I pass, and I punch him in the gut, letting his choking noises follow me out.
My mom is digging in the fridge, her body half-folded as she balances a carton of eggs in one arm and a jug of OJ in the other. The orange apron that Darren and I got her last Christmas with kangaroos all over the front is knotted at least three times at her back. She’s tall enough that it doesn’t reach her knees like it’s supposed to but mid-thigh instead. I’m pretty sure they only make aprons for short and round old grannies nowadays. My mother is none of those things.
“Want some help?” I ask.
She glances at me over her shoulder, brown eyes bright. “Can you put some butter in the pan on the stove?”
“Mmhmm.”
I don’t ask which of the three pans she means; it’s always the same. Though, I do make a mental note to add new pots and pans to her birthday list. I think she’s had these ones since before I was born. I’m surprised we haven’t gotten tetanus from them yet.
Using a knife to slice off a pad of butter from the block on the white porcelain dish, I drop it into the pan and watch it begin to melt before gripping the pan handle and swirling it all around.
“Oh, and good morning, honey,” she adds, shutting the fridge door with her hip and setting the eggs and juice on the counter.
My cheeks flame at the pet name and the memories it invokes. The name is ruined now. I’ll never forget hearing it in Garrison’s deep, raspy tone. It’s only been a day since we’ve seen each other, and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about the way he tucked me into bed like he genuinely wanted to. My stomach flutters, and I inwardly curse.
Missing nothing, Pauline Huntsly arches a thinly plucked brow. “Tell me what that look is all about while we scramble these eggs up.”
I grab a big bowl from the cupboard and start cracking the eggs, keeping my eyes cast down. “What look?”
“What look?” she repeats with a scoff. “You forget sometimes how well I know you. That blush is suspicious.”
“It’s as hot as the devil’s ass in this kitchen.”
Mom chuckles. “You’re not wrong, but that’s not it, and we both know it.”
“A normal mother would be asking her daughter how her week was or what plans she has coming up instead of all this.”
“My apologies. How was your week, and what plans do you have coming up?”
I finish cracking the twelfth egg and hand her the shell-filled carton. While she carries it to the garbage, I answer her sarcastic questions and start whisking the eggs with a fork.
“My week was fine besides your son being a terrible plumber and my hot water still not working. I don’t have any upcoming plans besides finding where my landlord lives and then showing up with a weapon and threatening him to fix it.”
“What weapon are you planning to bring?”
“I was going to search Dad’s tool box for something.”
“Well, I wouldn’t tell him about that. I don’t think he’d want anything traced back to us.”
I pour the eggs into the buttered pan and listen to them sizzle. “It’ll be our secret.”
“You know what else could be our secret?”
“Don’t even say it.”
“What it is that has you blushing like a schoolgirl.”
“And you said it,” I groan.
She hands me a rubber spatula, and I start breaking apart the eggs as they solidify. “I’m not going to let it go.”
“You’re going to have to. I’m not going to tell you anything this time.”
I’ve always been an open book with my mom when it comes to my personal life. Bryce and Anna are my girls forever, but my mom is my mom. She’ll always be my first call. So, I know this is probably a bit hard for her to comprehend. It’s hard for even me to understand. I’ve never had a friends-with-benefits situation before. If that’s even what we are. Is it?
This is exactly why I’m not going to speak a word of it to her yet. Or ever.
“That’s cruel, Poppy. Downright cruel.” She huffs and leaves me to man the eggs alone.
I turn to watch her plug in her electric griddle and begin mixing the pancake batter resting in the bowl beside it. She works quickly, waiting until the griddle heats before spreading butter along its surface and ladling scoops of the running mixture over it.
The workout clothes she’s wearing beneath her apron are similar to mine but a handful of sizes smaller. I’ve long since grown out of the jealousy I used to have for her slim figure, and she’s more to thank for that than I am. I’ve never been made to feel like the odd one out in a family of small bodies, and it’s done wonders to boost my confidence. A heavier body weight does not take a single fucking thing away from our beauty. Inside or out.
“If it turns out to matter, I’ll tell you. I promise,” I say in an attempt to placate her.
“Is it about a boy?”
“I don’t date boys at my age, Mom.”
She waves the flipper in her hand at me and then slides it under one of the six pancakes. “So you are dating again?”
I take the waiting bowl of shredded cheese from the counter and begin sprinkling it over the eggs, doing anything to stall having to tell my mom to drop this once and for all. She’s a dog with a bone, and apparently, I’ve been single for too long to avoid this interrogation.
“I’m not dating anyone,” I say.
“But you are seeing someone.” It’s a statement, her mind already made up.
“Where’s Dad?”
She whirls to face me, narrowing her stare. “You don’t get to call the Dad card to get out of this one.”
“Dad?” I shout, earning a swat on the arm from Mom.
“I’m pretty sure he’s hiding outside. The two of you have been alone for all of ten minutes, and you’re already calling for backup?” Darren asks from somewhere behind us. I don’t bother looking for him.
“How is your dating life looking, D? Got any potential stepmommy candidates?” I ask, folding in the melting cheese.
“Mom, have you heard about the new hotshot CEO that’s been staying at the Steele ranch?”
A smirk is so damn evident in that know-it-all tone of his that I can’t help but spin to face him, glowering.
“You’re a jackass, Darren.”
“And you’re involved with Garrison Beckett.”
I struggle to keep my face blank, a thousand questions slashing through my thoughts. “What are you talking about?”
My brother rolls his eyes, and for the first time since I stepped into the kitchen, Mom keeps quiet. I glare at her just as hard.
“That guy is a douche, yet he found the decency somewhere inside of him to stand up for you at the fire station on Monday for no reason? Nah, I’m not buying it.”
I plant my hands on my hips. “And you know him so well to be able to make a conclusion like that?”
“Are you admitting that you know differently?”
“I’m going to smack that smirk off your face, Darren,” I warn before facing the stove again and shovelling the eggs onto a huge round plate.
“Try it, little sis. I’ll smack you right back.”
“Daddy! Hitting girls is mean!” Abbie hollers from the living room.
I roll my lips and suck back my laugh, even though I want to do it right in my brother’s face. Mom is quick to intervene now, which is oh-so sweet of her after letting Darren completely throw me under the bus a minute ago.
Aren’t older brothers supposed to not want you to date men that they know? Or at all, for that matter? I’m pretty sure mine is broken, considering he thinks it’s funny instead.
“Darren, take over for your sister and start the bacon,” she orders, offering me an apologetic smile.
“I hope you get burnt with grease,” I tell him before dropping my spatula in the sink amongst the other dirty dishes and strolling past him.
“I’ll make sure your pieces are raw,” he returns.
Mom continues flipping pancakes, exhaling loud enough we know she’s annoyed. “You are both children.”
I nearly run face first into my dad as he finally decides to join us in the kitchen. Relief hits me, knowing that he’s going to take my side like he always does. My brother may be broken in the sense of not caring who and if I date, but my dad doesn’t share that nonchalance. Talking about my dating life is the last thing he’s going to want to talk about.
“Nice of you to finally join us,” I grumble but hug him despite my annoyance.
He wraps heavy arms around me and kisses the top of my head. “I was busy.”
“Busy hiding.”
A steady hand rubs my back, and I relax. My dad is a huge, burly dude, but he’s also an absolute teddy bear. We’re almost as close as me and Mom are and have been for forever.
“I’d never hide from you and your mother.”
I laugh softly. “Liar. You also got away without helping with breakfast.”
We break apart, and he presses another kiss to my head before moving to Mom. He tucks her under his arm and says, “I didn’t get away with shit. Let me and Darren finish up.”
“Thank you, you big baby,” Mom teases, pressing her lips to his stubbled jaw. Their stares hold as they stand together, and my chest warms at the obvious love between them.
“You’re welcome. And don’t think that I don’t know what I was interrupting. Leave it be, Pauline.”
“For now,” she agrees, and it’s all I need to hear before leaving them in the kitchen.
Abbie is still sitting on the couch when I find her again, a cartoon playing on TV. I flop down beside her and wrap my arm around her narrow shoulders.
“Mind if I join you?”
“Do you like this show?”
I’ve never seen it before, but she doesn’t know that. “Duh. It’s one of my favourites.”
“Then yes.”
She curls into my side, and I smile, soaking up the time with my niece, knowing how possible it is that these moments could be taken from us if her mother so wished them to. Darren may be an ass sometimes, but he’s still my brother, and he’s fighting his own battles right now.
Annoying or not, family is sometimes all we have, and I’m damn grateful to have the one I do.