CHAPTER THREE #2
Everyone is here, and everyone turns to look at me all at once. I get varying levels of interest from my brothers, who are mostly focusing on some sporting event on the TV in the adjoining living room. My mom is the only one who lights up like she hasn’t seen me in years.
“Hey, Pipe Cleaner,” Asher says in his trademark grumble. He almost exclusively refers to me by my nickname. As the eldest, he stepped into that dad role once our father passed, so he treats me slightly more like a father would than the other male heathens I call my family.
“Hey, Asher. Hello, Griffin. Hello, Dane. Hello, Jett.” I drift around the table to give my mom a hug while my brothers jerk their chins in response. “Where’s Lia?”
“Napping,” Dane says without even looking at me. Lia is his three-year-old daughter. She’s the one who makes this family complete, and I’m always ready for some niece snuggles.
“Fine, I’ll impatiently wait for my favorite person to wake up.
” I sigh dramatically, sinking into the open chair beside Mom.
It’s my preferred space, but sometimes my brothers and I still fight for the honor of sitting next to mom.
Thankfully, they’re distracted enough by whatever is on the TV right now to not hassle me about it.
“You hungry?” Mom asks, squeezing my knee.
Her dark blonde hair is pulled back into a low bun.
She smiles warmly at me, and I spot signs of flour on her shirt.
She runs the Bayshore Bakery downtown, one of the longest-running businesses in the area.
She took it over from the former owner and has been keeping the tradition alive for the past twenty years.
“Sure am. What’s on the menu for tonight?”
Suddenly, all of my brothers inhale sharply, eyes on the TV. Dane mutters under his breath and pounds the dining room table with his fist.
“Fucking Roberts did it again,” Jett says.
“What are we watching?” I ask anyone who can hear. “It looks like there’s a notable lack of ice.”
Mom sighs. “Football.”
“Oh, right. Football season.”
We’re a hockey family, thanks to Griffin’s early and unnatural talent for the sport, but my brothers are still Midwestern men through and through, which means the occasional tailgate party and plenty of football season kick-offs—until hockey season starts, at least. Now that Griff is playing at the professional level, late September through early spring is usually dominated by hockey.
This year will be different, though, because Griff got hurt; he’s officially out on injured reserve until his ACL tear heals fully.
“Anything I can help with in the kitchen?” I twist to see what the status of dinner is. I can see the crockpot plugged in along the far wall, no doubt the source of the tantalizing smells. I pop to my feet just as my brothers all groan in unison.
“Fumble,” Griffin confirms.
“You can get the plates out, honey.” Mom drifts along behind me, heading for a fat loaf of sourdough bread. No doubt she brought it home from the shop. She reaches for a serrated knife and cuts big chunks off, arranging them on a plate.
We always eat first before we start playing euchre.
It’s a family tradition that came from my dad’s side of the family that we keep up as an homage to him.
It’s also why we keep an hourglass on the mantle full of dad’s ashes, so that he can participate in game night.
One of the varied reasons why it’s easier to not have a boyfriend.
Explaining the family quirks would be…a lot.
I peek inside the crockpot—pork roast—and grab big plates to stack on the countertop.
Something else happens on the TV, and then Asher finally says, “There’s no hope. I can’t watch anymore.”
“Turn it off,” Dane agrees.
The TV clicks off, and I can feel my brothers’ souls return to the present dimension. They begin filtering into the kitchen.
“Oh hey, Piper.” Jett says. “When’d you get here?”
I side eye him. “You’re not serious right? I said hello specifically to you like ten minutes ago.”
Jett shrugs as he heads to the kitchen sink to wash his hands. “What can I say? I’m focused.” A few grease streaks are still visible on his forearms, left over from his job as a mechanic.
I snort laugh just as Dane pulls me into a too-tight hug. “How’s my baby sister this week?"
I open my mouth to give a breezy response but nothing comes out. Everyone notices my pause. Eyebrows lift.
“Piper?” Mom prompts as she serves big chunks of roast onto plates.
Griffin narrows his eyes at me as he steps up to our mom, reaching for the plate she holds out. “You good?”
The longer I fumble for words, the sharper the attention becomes, like a javelin ready to pop the flimsy balloon carrying my emotions. I hate showing weakness or indecision around my brothers. They prey upon it like it’s fresh meat in a lion’s cage.
My brothers aren’t just relatives who happen to be a little older than me.
After our dad passed away when I was six, they became my caretakers. My protectors. My stand-in fathers, Asher more than the others. But as I’ve grown, they’ve all made it their mission to oversee my life.
“I’m fine,” I say brightly, but it’s too late. Asher is watching me suspiciously now too. This is the downside of being too close to your family. I can’t even pause for too long around these people.
“Why do I not believe that?” Dane says with a smirk.
“I just got a little visit from Hazel Daly today—”
“Oh my god, don’t tell me the building sold.” My mom sets the ladle down and turns to me gravely. Now I’m actually anxious, because I can watch this conversation gathering steam to form a full-blown situation , and all I wanted to do was forget about my Uncle Lobster landlord for a few hours.
I struggle to find words to respond, because how do moms immediately know? “So you heard it was for sale?”
“The building sold?” Asher asks.
“I heard something about Mrs. Decker the other day—” my mom starts.
“Wait, doesn’t she have like, a few surly sons that were planning on buying it?” Jett carries his plate over to the dining room table.
“Apparently her surly sons were kept out of the loop,” I say, grabbing my own plate full of pork roast that my mother thrusts into my hands. “It sold and I met the new owner today.”
My mom rolls her lips inward. “Who is it?”
“Nobody I know,” I hurry to say. Maybe a little too quickly, like somehow the family closeness will also enable my brothers to read my mind and find out I slept with my landlord already on a drunken outing.
They’d have a field day with that one. To them, I am not only their little sister, I am sacrosanct.
Yet another reason why I find it easier to simply not have a love interest: I do not have the energy to bring someone new into this testosterone minefield.
“So not a local?” she prods.
“No, he’s from Cleveland. Or somewhere else. I don’t know.”
“He’s not gonna kick you out, right?” Asher says slowly, eyes narrowing.
“He better not.” I carry my plate over to the table and settle into my usual spot, which is to the right of Griffin and the left of my mom.
“You have a lease, I’m assuming,” Asher goes on.
“Of course I have a lease,” I say, wracking my brain for the details. “It’s got me locked in for another…I don’t know…three years at least.”
“Good,” Jett says. “You’re safe. For now.”
Safe. From somebody kicking me out of my shop, maybe. But not from this little pulsating marshmallow of desire inside me.
It isn’t long before little Lia joins us, sleepily rubbing her eyes and climbing up into her daddy’s lap to watch us all in a post-nap daze and take the occasional bite of pork roast Dane offers her.
Dad’s hourglass looks out over the dining room from a ledge in the family room, where he’ll participate in family game night in the only way he can.
All is well. The pork roast is delicious.
My brothers are happily ribbing each other about something I’m not paying attention to.
And then suddenly the conversation returns to my shop.
“What’s your new landlord’s name?” Jett asks suddenly.
“Uh…I don’t know yet.” I won’t admit I know his bizarre nickname.
“But I almost called him by a name that starts with a d-i-c-k-wad today when he was blocking the entrance for my disabled customer.” I try not to swear in front of my niece, even though it’s a lost cause in this household. My brothers are as bad as sailors.
“I’ll be stopping by to check him out,” Griffin says with a harrumph. The chair groans underneath his enormous hockey build. The man must eat seven thousand calories a day. “Make sure he doesn’t pull any shit.”
“You don’t have to do that,” I say, but my voice withers under the boisterous voices of my brothers.
“Let’s make sure he sees the lease with his own eyes, too,” Asher says, leaning in closer to Griffin in that conspiratorial way that reminds me of every other thing my brothers have hijacked in my life.
“His own eyes and his asshole, even,” Jett cackles.
“Jett,” Mom starts, but I can tell she’s smiling behind the admonishment.
“He better not fuck around with my little sister,” Dane goes on. Lia pouts and looks up at him.
“Bad word, Daddy.”
“Sorry, baby.” He kisses the top of her head. “Don’t repeat that.”
“You guys,” I say, thankful that nobody can tell how fast my heart is racing. “It’ll be fine. I promise. He’s fine. I’m fine. I have a lease. There’s nothing wrong.”
I’m babbling, because I know the truth. My brothers aren’t hearing me.
And they don’t even know how far from fine I feel about the sexy one-night stand of my dreams becoming my new neighbor.
Or the fact that I have a kernel of disappointment throbbing inside of me, because I had wanted that empty space for my own.
I liked having the expanse of possibility beside me, on the off chance I grew some courage to expand my business in a way I haven’t told a single soul about.
But it doesn’t matter.
Because they’ll never find out. The last thing I need is a love—or lobster—interest. I’m committed to my family. To my shop. To my life exactly how it is.
No matter how hot and muscled and intriguing my new landlord might be.