“Okay, got one,” I said. “The same sister—she has monster children, and I babysit for her once in a while. This one night, I brought over a bunch of fruit because she feeds them all artificial crap, which is awful. Don’t get me started on correct protein; that’s a rant you don’t want to hear. But anyway, the cranberries were ripe, and we discovered they bounced.
“Really now?” Becca’s mouth hung open in awe.
“Like a bouncy ball. The kids thought it was hilarious, and George, the oldest of the bunch, started throwing them at the wall.” I paused, took a swig from my water bottle, and snuck a glance at my temporary guest. A slight blush graced her cheeks so I kept going. “I thought she would actually murder me when she and her husband got home and saw the damage.”
“Did it look like a murder scene?”
“Exactly.”
Becca burst into laughter and slapped her hand on the table. “Holy moly. That’s hilarious. How many kids does she have?”
“Three. Two boys, one girl.” I smiled. “George, Brodie, and Gabby. I hadn’t thought about that memory in years.”
“That’s a great one. Are you close with your siblings? You mentioned a brother, too, right?”
The momentary bliss disappeared at the mention of my brother.
I’d been in a funk since our season was in the gutter, my ex was getting remarried, and our brother’s ego was the size of Texas since his team qualified for a championship game. My sister’s text from earlier in the day weighed heavy on my conscience.The kids miss you.I couldn’t believe my parents wouldn’t try to spend the holiday with their grandchildren. At least they sent presents, though.
My throat tightened, and I gripped the water bottle hard. “Just the two siblings. My sister and I are close. My brother and I grew apart as we got older.”
She opened her mouth as though to ask more and then stopped herself and finished eating. Swallowing her last bite, she waved her hands as she spoke again. “I would’ve made a deal with a wizard to have siblings. It was just me and my parents. I love them, but all my adventures were solo or with them. I bet you have hours of wonderful and exciting stories from growing up with them.”
I guess I do.It was difficult to remember all the good times growing up with Hank and Blair because most of them were tainted by Hank getting away with something and me getting blamed. I loved him and protected him at every turn. We were best friends until high school, where everything became a fierce competition. The nice memories dulled with all the bad ones. Like the time he snuck out of the house and broke a window—I had a game the following day, and I would never have risked not playing my best, but my parents believed Hank when he said I did it.
Or the time they found weed in the house, and Hank pointed at me. He said they’d go easier on me, which was bullshit. They believed him, and I was grounded for a month.
Or the time Blair insisted Hank instigated the fight, but Hank played the victim and got me in trouble and then winked at me behind my mom’s shoulder, mouthingthey like me more.
He once insisted our parents’ expectations were different for us, that my life was easier than his. It sounded like an excuse, so I didn’t care enough to figure out why. That was fifteen years ago.
The list of his dumb behavior kept growing, and it wasn’t a shock I disliked him. He lived in his own world and didn’t understand how his behavior affected me. Every time I tried talking to him, my thoughts jumbled, and no words would come out. Regular communication was hard enough for me when it didn’t pertain to football, but throw in the complexity of family? I was the worst at it.
I gritted my teeth for a beat and focused on Becca. With her always-present smile and zero judgment in her eyes, she looked so hopeful. I made myself nod. “We did have some good times.”
She made a humming sound and stood, picking up my empty plate as the radio made the familiar, gut-wrenching sound of three deep bell sounds. We froze, and her soft brown eyes met mine, hers laced with fear.
My stomach hollowed at the update. Maybe it was good news rather than terrifying. A guy could hope.
Aaron Hodge here from the National Weather Service. Meteorologists are predicting windchills up to sixty degrees below zero tonight. We advise not leaving shelter for any reason or wasting heat. Leave water on a trickle so your pipes don’t burst. Multiple shelters have opened with heat and sleeping bags. If you are stranded, please call 911, and services should be out moving as soon as they can. The wind is expected to increase as night falls, and the snow is not letting up until midday tomorrow. Stay safe everyone, and we’ll be back with more information soon.
Becca looked out the window, her brows drawn together. Glancing back at me, she asked the question already forming in my mind, “Are we going to be okay?”
“Yes,” I said, wishing I was as confident as I sounded. “I’m going to turn on all the faucets before we get ready for bed.”
She frowned, and my shoulders felt heavy with worry. Would we be okay on our own?
CHAPTER NINE
BECCA
The temperatures that night dropped to negative sixty outside with the windchill. The blizzard continued its warpath, not caring that people wanted to travel for Christmas. Neither reading nor knitting helped distract me from the building anxiety of nighttime. We each wore numerous layers but the cold in my bones ached inside out. Negative sixty? I’d lived in the Midwest my entire life and never experienced those extreme temps. I had no idea what we’d do if the pipes burst or if the fire went out or if the wind shattered the window exposing us to the elements. I snuggled deeper into my spot on the couch and shivered.
“What’s on your mind?” Harrison asked from the cozy chair across the room.
Like me, he fidgeted every couple of minutes. It was possible he was as worried as I was. Getting a read on him was more difficult than getting fifty college girls to agree on a Monday-night TV show. Seriously.
I blew out a breath. “The weather. All the what-ifs running through my mind. My brain can spiral pretty quickly, going to the worst-case scenario within seconds.”
