4. Reed
reed
I’m locked in a stare-down with my niece, and I don’t think I’m winning. I might have perfected my “go away” face, but Jovie’s always had mad puppy-dog-eye skills. She can wheedle any of us into practically anything, and she knows it.
I can handle running around the yard with her on my back like a jockey. I can handle letting her practice using nail polish even though I wind up with multi-colored fingertips. I can even handle watching her favorite TV show about friends and their magical cookbook.
But I have to draw the line somewhere.
She stands in front of me in my parents’ living room, waggling a board game box in front of her to entice me.
Her dark blonde hair is tangled from a day of running wild, her green eyes sparkling to prove she’s not worn out yet.
She tilts her head to the side, batting her eyelashes. “Please, Uncle Reed? Please?”
The last “please” goes on so long, I worry she’s going to strain something.
I slowly shake my head. “I’m not playing Risk.”
She lifts her eyebrows, exaggerating her pleading face. “Why not?”
“I don’t have eight hours for a board game right now.”
“You don’t look busy.”
I’m sitting in an armchair, one ankle propped on my knee after Sunday dinner. After this, I might go back to my cabin and toss a line in the river for a while. “I’m extremely busy.”
Nathan throws himself to the end of the couch closest to us, sprawling across all the cushions. “Plus, we have bad memories about that game. We played once and we both got grounded for two weeks.”
Jovie wrinkles her nose as if his story doesn’t add up. “Grandma grounded you for playing a game?”
“Nope. For fist-fighting in the middle of the game.”
She giggles, but gets serious again. “I promise not to hit either of you.”
“You’re very generous,” I tell her. “Go pick something else.”
She gives me her best stink-eye before flouncing away, bopping the box against her legs with each step and shaking all the pieces inside to remind me what I’m missing out on.
I know exactly what I’m missing out on: frustration and misery.
Graham slides Nathan’s legs off the couch, and they each take an end. “Smart work avoiding Risk,” he says to me.
“If she comes back with Trivial Pursuit, that’s a you problem.”
Graham is the genius among us, taking after our dad with his giant brain crammed full of ideas and information. Why he decided to teach high school science instead of making jet engines or spaceships is beyond me.
Probably the same reason Dad took over Granddad’s hardware store instead of chasing after his dreams of mechanical innovation. Family had a stronger pull.
“Hey, you guys are doing coffee at the concert thingy this week, right?” Nathan asks.
That one’s dead last on the big brain scale. He’s got a good heart, though.
I rear back to see him better. “How do you know about that?”
He waves a hand at himself as if the answer is obvious. “I’ll be holding down the fort at the medic tent.”
“Right. Seems like a lot of worry for a two-hour event.”
“People aren’t smart. I told you about the guy who got his tongue stuck to a light pole at the last Christmas Festival.”
“Only about a hundred times,” Graham says.
“He said he thought the scene in A Christmas Story—”
“Was CGI,” Graham and I say together.
Nathan grins. “Oh, I’m sorry. Have I told this story before?”
He doesn’t care. He’ll tell it a hundred more times. A full-grown man stuck to a light pole is an understandable highlight for a small town EMT.
“Yeah,” I say before he can recount pouring warm water over the guy’s tongue to set him free. “We’re doing the concert series.”
Nathan leans closer, his grin turning wolfish. “Is the ‘we’ you and Troy, or you and Rose?”
He’s harmless, I tell myself. He’s harmless. He’s harmless.
Nathan’s a flirt, but nothing worse. He’s twenty-eight, so I won’t pretend he’s innocent, but he’s not out there trying to make conquests or anything. He’s like a puppy running from one thing to the next without a thought in his head.
The problem is, everybody loves puppies.
I grip the cushioned chair arms so tight, my fingers will leave marks in the fabric. “Why?”
“Because Rose is a cutie. She’s like a movie star or something in those long dresses she always wears.“ He makes a sound in the back of his throat I’d like to erase from my memory. “Is she seeing anybody, or…?”
Graham smacks him hard on the arm. “Read the room.”
Nathan looks around, searching for a clue. “Read what? What room?”
Graham and I lock gazes over the couch. What does he think he knows? And since when?
His eyes give nothing away behind his glasses. For the first time, I wonder just what I’m giving away. It’s not my feelings—I’ve got those locked down tight. But Graham’s a scientist. He’s good at quiet observation. I’d rather not be the test subject he’s poring over.
“How’d it go this morning?” He’s giving me an out, which is more than I could expect from Nathan if he had similar suspicions.
“Good day on the river. Caught a couple of rainbow trout.”
Jovie returns with our sling puck game and puts it on the coffee table in front of me. She doles out the small, wooden playing discs, then rolls Dad’s ottoman over to sit on.
“This won’t take eight hours.” Her smirk makes her look more like Nathan than Luke. Over the years, I’ve caught glimpses of all of us in her expressions. Luke when she’s serious. Graham when she’s trying to make sense of school work. Lucy’s mischief, naturally.
Even me on those rare occasions she’s in a dark mood.
“You want to go?” I tease, sitting up so I can reach the wooden game board.
She flexes her biceps and kisses them. This kid. I’ve got very few soft spots in my life, but she’s most of them.
The game is simple: use an elastic at one end of the board to slingshot your pucks to the other person’s side through a narrow gate in the middle.
There are no set turns, and as easy as it is to learn, it’s difficult to win.
It’s chaotic and noisy, but Jovie’s giggles every time she gets a point over on me make it worthwhile.
Of course, my brothers are cheering for her. We always do.
Graham stands so he can see the discs sliding across the board better. “You’ve got him, Jovie.”
“Quick, quick, quick.” Nathan’s full of helpful pointers. “You’re almost there, nugget.”
Jovie squeals, her fingers flying as she tugs her discs against the elastic to shoot them my way. “He’s too fast!”
Everyone groans when I manage to pop one of her pucks back onto her side.
“That’s so rude!” she shouts.
I won’t straight up let her win, but I might throw my aim enough to let her catch up again. I’m not a monster. Unless I’m playing my brothers. Then I’m out for blood.
“Shake it off,” Nathan tells her. “Eye of the tiger.”
Jovie starts singing the pop version of that song complete with dance moves, distracting herself enough for me to get my last puck through the gate and onto her side of the board.
“Aw!” Her expression falls for a moment before she looks up at Graham. “Want to play me, Uncle Graham?”
“I’m up for a little humiliation.”
I stand so he can take my place across from her. Nathan starts commentating like he’s an auctioneer, his words tumbling together in his attempt to keep up with the plays. Leaving them to their battle, I wander around the corner to find the rest of my family.
Mom, Dad, and Luke are still in the kitchen. Lucy’s at the far end of the dining table with her notebook. I move closer to try to see what she’s always working on. The moment she spots me, she slams the book shut.
Interesting.
“Plotting more schemes, Lucifer?”
She makes a smart aleck face at me. “I guess you’ll find out, won’t you Reedonkulous?”
Using our teenage nicknames for each other is how you know we’re mature, responsible adults.
“Don’t do the setup thing.” I tell her straight out. No teasing. I need her to hear me loud and clear.
Except I might have overdone the “loud” part.
“What setup thing?” Mom moves closer, her gaze darting from me to Lucy. The two of them have similar light brown hair and blue eyes, but only one of them perpetually looks like she’s up to something.
“I’m trying to help Reed find love,” Lucy tells her. “But he’s being stubborn.”
“Did you really think Reed would be anything else?” Mom’s look of pure affection slips over me like the warmest, softest blanket. “He’s been stubborn since he was two years old.”
“Not when I was one?” I tease.
“You were an angel when you were one.”
“Are we paying the children insincere compliments?” Dad wants to know. “Is it too late for me to join in?”
“Yes,” I say as he slides between Mom and me.
He’s about my height, with a slighter build.
His thick, dark hair my brothers and I inherited is now streaked with gray, but his eyes are as vivid as ever.
Paired with the black plastic glasses frames he favors, it’s easy to imagine him as the aging professor he should have been.
He clears his throat. “Uh, Reed, the foam art you put on my coffee last week was very recognizable. An overall improvement in your barista skills.”
Lucy peals out a laugh, while Mom and Luke barely hold theirs in.
“Thanks, Dad. Very believable.”
“Speaking of Reed’s various failures,” Lucy says. “I’ve been trying to set him up with one of my coworkers, but he’s being unhelpful.”
All four of them train their gazes on me like I just walked in with a head wound.
Why did I think Lucy might keep this plan to herself?
The last thing I need is my whole family trying to get involved in my personal life.
They’ll probably run a poll in the family group chat to vote on which of Lucy’s coworkers I should ask out.
“I’m leaving.” I start to turn away, but Dad grabs my sleeve before I take a step.
“Stay. I want to hear about this setup.” Of course he does. Dad and Mom are where Lucy gets her sentimental notions. They’re grotesquely in love. I appreciate it now, but I spent a lot of time as a kid pretending to gag. “Who’s the lucky woman?”
“I don’t know, and I don’t want to know. I never agreed to any setup.”