“And your mom and dad?”
“Mom is the queen of the house. Will probably love you within five seconds. Might ask if we’re having kids by the end of the night. Dad will tell jokes and pick on you. But he means it with love.”
Emma snorted. “I’m not ready to be asked about babies while I’m still figuring out how to leave an extra toothbrush at your place.”
I grabbed her hand and laced our fingers together. “You already live there three days a week.”
“Details.”
As we climbed out and walked toward the door, the faint sound of laughter and clinking dishes drifted out onto the porch. I didn’t even knock, just pushed the door open like I still lived there, which, in a way, I did. This would always be my house.
“Connor!” A sweet, calming voice called, followed by small footsteps. Ava, Tyler’s girlfriend, came walking out of the kitchen and wrapped her tiny arms around me in a hug. “Jesus, it’s been forever.”
I met Ava the same night I met Emma. How everything has changed so much since then. Ava barely said three sentences to me. Later, I learned that her dad was a piece of shit and it takes her a while to trust. But through time and a lot of dinners, I think I became her favorite brother.
“It’s been two weeks,” I laughed.
“Forever in brother-sister years.” Yes, she considered us all family. Never having a sibling to pick on, or even one to protect her, I think she kind of latched on to us. Giving her a safe place to heal.
Ava turned to Emma, all bubbly and smiling. “And this must be the girl who’s got Connor all soft around the edges.”
“Emma,” she offered, surprised when Ava pulled her into a hug too.
“Welcome to the asylum.”
From the dining room, my mom waved with flour-covered hands. “Make yourself at home, sweetie. Dinner’s almost ready.”
Introductions flew by in a blur of handshakes, one-armed hugs, sarcastic remarks, and Ben bragging about how he plays hockey to Emma. Just like I knew he would. We all sat around the long oak table, now filled with notches from our years of eating at the same table. Bowls of roasted potatoes and grilled chicken passed like treasure.
But I had to admit, something was off with Sean. He wasn’t making as many jokes tonight. He was quieter than usual, picking at his food, lost in thought.
“You good?” I asked, nudging him once the rest of the table was distracted in a debate over who was most likely to burn the house down. Which, by the way, would be Ben.
Sean blinked, like he hadn’t realized he’d zoned out. “Yeah. Just tired.”
I frowned but let it go for now. It’s kind of funny. A couple of months ago I never would have been the one asking if he was okay. It would have been Tyler. Hell, even talking more than normal has surprised everyone at the table, and each time I open my mouth, someone looks at Emma like she was the answer all along.
Even though Emma had only been around him for a couple of minutes, it seemed like she noticed too, her eyes darting toward him with quiet curiosity. Especially since I said he was the family clown and to expect him to have her laughing the whole night. Yet he hasn’t told a joke yet.
Tyler, across the table, was less subtle. “You sure, man? You’ve been weird for a while.”
Sean sighed. “There’s a patient.”
Everyone quieted a little. Serious talk was allowed at Sunday dinner, but it always came with a side of uncomfortable silence.
“She came in after a car crash,” Sean continued, rubbing the back of his neck. “Bad one. Drunk driver t-boned her. She’s been in the hospital ever since.”
“Wait, the girl they brought in when we were there?” I asked.
“Yep,” he nodded.
Nick, who rarely said much at family dinners, looked up then, his jaw tight. “Was he okay?”
“The driver?” Sean shook his head. “Died minutes after getting to the hospital.”
Something thick settled over the table. Nick pushed back in his chair slightly, hands gripping his thighs under the table.
“Sorry,” Sean muttered. “Didn’t mean to-”
