The cozy air of the kitchen chills and thickens with awkwardness. I miss how it was before, eating and joking in the dark of night. I miss it so much I blurt out the first thing that comes to mind.
“You usually make me nervous is all I meant.”
August bolts straight on his stool. “I’m sorry? I makeyounervous?” Brows high, he rubs a hand over his mouth.
“What are you muttering about?”
“I’m working through a moment of irony is all.”
“Okay . . .”
A long finger points at me as his brows lower. “You haven’t had a nervous moment since you got here.”
“I’m having an off night.”
“Welcome to the club.” He lifts his glass in cheers.
I want to reciprocate, but my shoulders slump. I’m needling him because I’m edgy and it isn’t his fault. “I’m sorry.”
August waves a hand as if to bat the apology away. “It is what it is—I can’t believe I make you nervous!”
Oh, the irony. His outrage is cute, though.
I sip my drink before continuing. “You can get... broody.”
His broody expression appears as if on cue. “I’m thoughtful, not broody.”
“If you say so.”
“I do.”
My smile threatens to break free. We sit in silence for a moment, August brooding and eating his sandwich as I toy with a piece of mine. I like it here with him in this kitchen I’ve known forever.
In the far corner on the counter sits Mr. Cocky, an old, chipped, ceramic rooster that often holds cookies. School pictures of the Luck kids cover the double wide stainless steel fridge in a checkerboard pattern of gap-toothed smiles, bad haircuts, and questionable fashion choices.
Someday, August will bring his kids into this room and they’ll see his growing years. Or maybe space will be cleared for their pictures. Whatever the case, his story will continue here.
The heavy weight of sorrow becomes too much, and the truth pours out of me. “I didn’t want to come here tonight. Not because I didn’t want to see any of you but because my heart hurts. But I couldn’t disappoint Margo, so I did. It wasn’t enough, though. I can’t shake my blue heart. You see, I came back to ask my mom for a loan and she said no.”
My word eruption seems to bounce around the room before settling between us. August blinks, mouth stern. “Why do you need a loan?”
My shoulders slump. The half-eaten sandwich in front of me no longer looks appetizing. “Pops and Pegs left me their house.”
“That’s a good thing, right?”
“It’s... great.” My voice breaks a little, and I clear my throat. “I love their house. It’s a second home. No, not even that. Mom and I moved around so much over the years, it’s my only home now.”
I risk a glance his way and find him watching me intently. It’s too much to take, and I turn back to staring at the plate in front of me. “Losing Pops and Pegs so soon was... hard.”
“Yeah.” It’s a soft affirmative that has the lump in my throat growing.
“Finding out they left the house to me was both painful and wonderful. I’d lost them but they left me a home.Myhome.” I trace a gray swirl in the granite counter. “Dad was, well, he was pissed.”
There’s a pause before understanding hits August. “They didn’t leave it to him.”
Shaking my head, I grimace. “He got nothing. It shouldn’t have been a surprise to him. He’d ditched his family and cut ties with his parents years ago.”
“Penelope—”
