I came from a big, loving family. We always had friends or family over, cousins and aunts and uncles, and I still wanted that, so badly. I even begged my best friend to stay with me when she needed help, and she ended up with my brother falling head over heels in love with her.
I found myself asking,When in the hell was it going to be my turn?I wanted a marriage and kids. What’s wrong with me? And I really honestly thought Harris and I were…something.What the hell was wrong with my intuition?
“You young kinds have way too many boyfriends,” my father grumbled from behind us. “You go out with different people all the time. Stick with one, and then you settle down and get married.” He narrowed his eyes at my mother and gave her a naughty smile. “Tinder is what you use to get a quick lay these days.”
“Okay, thanks everyone. I’ll take all of your relationship critiques into consideration,” I laughed, looking up toward the ceiling for some divine intervention. I’d even settle for a lightning bolt if my father ever repeated the words “quick lay” again. Then, Ryan’s face crashed into my mind. “Oh, hey Liv, I gave a friend of mine your number in case he needs it. He’s actually the new guy on Dean’s team. Remember him? Ryan Cage?”
“Yeah, of course. I remember him. We’ve been out with him a few times.” Her expression twisted in confusion. “But why would you give him my number?”
“His brother is autistic and is staying with him for a month. I told him if he had any questions he could call one of us.”
“Cage? Cage has an autistic brother?” Dean asked, surprised.
“Yeah, that’s what he said at dinner yesterday.”
Everyone stopped what they were doing and stared at me.
“Dinner yesterday?” Liv repeated, her eyebrows arching dangerously close to her hairline. My mother stood next to her, smiling stupidly.
“Yeah, what was that about?” Dean asked, stepping closer to me. “I don’t like the idea of you and Cage doing anything together.”
“Cage is an ass,” I said, trying to get them off my back. Or at least stop them all from looking at me like they were.
“Oh, okay.” Dean looked pretty satisfied. “He is. I agree.”
“A sexy as fuck ass,” I said, biting my lip.
“He totally is. I agree,” Liv said, trying not to burst out laughing.
“Did you meet him on Tinder?” my father asked.
“Okay, enough!” my mother called out, choking back a giggle. “Dinner’s ready. Let’s go. Everybody at the table. Guns away.”
Liv barked out a giggle, “You would only ever hear a sentence like that in the Fury household.”
“Hey, how’s your mother, Liv?” I asked grabbing the salad bowl and walking it into the dining room. “Doesn’t she get to make phone calls this month?”
“Yes!” Liv beamed, moving the napkins onto the table excitedly. “She sounds great. I can’t believe it. She’s been sober for five weeks now. Can you imagine?”
It was hard to picture. Liv’s mother lived next door to us for twenty years, and I had never, not even once in all that time, seen her sober. But, if it weren’t for her drunk butt dial in the middle of the night, Liv and Dean wouldn’t have ever gotten together. “She’s taking one day at a time in rehab, but God she sounds like a different person. A happier one.”
“And,” she said, grabbing onto my arm, “I’ve been talking with my stepmother!” My mouth dropped completely open. I was so happy for her. A few weeks ago, she didn’t even know she had a stepmother or a whole other family. “We’re planning on meeting soon. Dean’s going to fly us out there the next vacation we get.”
I wrapped my arms around her and squeezed, “That’s amazing. I’m so happy for you.”
My mother scooped out the food onto everyone’s plate, and there was nothing, but complete and utter silence as we ate her delicious dinner. “S’good,” I mumbled.
“So, Brooke. Enough talk about you getting laid. What’s going on in the neighborhood?” my father grunted, between bites of salad.
I shook my head and chuckled. “There was a break in at the dentist’s office. Some idiot broke in, and get this, stole nothing. No meds or prescription pads, nothing. Just destroyed the place and spray-painted the word, ‘whore,’ about a thousand times all over the walls and doors.”
Across from me Dean stilled, “What?”
“Yeah, nothing was stolen,” I repeated, and took another forkful of eggplant. A long string of mozzarella snapped up and splattered over my cheek.
Dean pushed his chair back and shot up. “When was this? Where? Does the office have video surveillance? Anything?”
“What’s going on?” I asked, trying to wipe the cheese off my face, but failing epically.
