He flips me off before pulling me in for a quick hug. He’s a couple inches shorter than me but just as strong. He has the same dark eyes too, just like our mom, but unlike me who has always embraced the flow of my hair, he keeps his military short.
Even though he’s a high school history teacher.
“Gotta grow up sometime,” he teases.
I follow him into the kitchen, Dad trailing behind us. The floorboards beneath my feet creak as we walk; the symphony of my childhood.
“Hey, S,” I greet Sierra, my sister-in-law, when we enter.
She flashes me a brief smile over her shoulder as she pulls a large pot out of the oven. “Good to see you. Been awhile.”
Sebastian claps me on my shoulder as he steps around to help Sierra. “I know,” I say. “Been busy.”
“Bullshit,” Sebastian calls me out.
Sierra slaps his chest with wide eyes. “Language.”
“It’s just like Mom is still here,” I joke, earning laughs from everyone. She used to always scold me and my brother for our language, even though it was a losing battle with the mouth on Dad.
Sierra moves around the kitchen with purpose while she directs Sebastian on where to put what dishes and handing him items to run over to the table. When Dad tries to jump in and help, she waves him away with a sweet smile. “Take a seat, Shawn. It’s almost ready, and your son can do the heavy lifting.”
Dad mutters something about not being incompetent just because he’s old, but he lumbers over to his usual spot at the dining table. It’s an old oak-wood table with so many dents and scratches to it I’m shocked no one gets splinters. It was awedding present my parents got and was the table we used to sit around as a family every single night.
My dad will probably take it to the grave with him.
“Smells good, Sierra,” I say as I settle into my usual seat as well.
She deposits a bowl of potatoes in the middle of the table and pushes her blonde hair behind her ears. “Thank you. I got a new recipe to try from Elle.”
I feel everyone’s eyes shift to me, gauging my reaction. If they expect me to rage, to burst into tears, to storm out, they’re mistaken. They may not understand the reasons for my divorce, but I do.
“That’s great,” I say evenly. “She was always a great cook.”
Sierra watches me, her expression unreadable, before she heads back into the kitchen with my brother to grab the remaining dishes.
Dad clears his throat and runs a hand over his clean-shaven jaw. “You talked to her lately?”
I ball my fists beneath the table. “Why would I?”
“Because you have history. You’re not with someone for that long without?—”
“Without what?” I cut in. “Without caring? Without wanting to keep in touch? We’re divorced,” I say forcefully. “For almost three years now.” I pointedly look at Sierra and Sebastian as they settle across from me. “I wish her nothing but the best, but we’re done.”
Sierra bites her tongue, clearly wanting to say more about her friend, but she must think better of it.Good. What the fuck is with everyone bringing up my divorce today?
Dad cuts through the tension he created by saying, “Let’s say grace.”
We all dip our heads, and once he’s done, bowls of potatoes, veggies, and some sort of chicken pasta are passed around.
There’s an invisible weight on me every time I feel Sierra’s eyes dip to the empty chair on my right and settle back on me, disappointment and a little contempt filling them. She and Elle grew close over the years, and out of everyone in my family, she took the divorce the hardest.
“How’s the team looking?” Sebastian asks when the silence grows taut.
I shrug and take a bite of pasta. “Fine.”
“Got any potential?”
“Maybe.”
