Finn laughs.“You fuckered that up quite nicely, little brother.”
“You deserve to get your ass kicked for that,” Evander says.
Special K arches an eyebrow at him.“I’m twice your size and way better at hand-to-hand.Besides, a broken jaw wouldn’t look too good with your fancy suits.”
“Now, now, ladies,” Cal says.
Kevin’s not twice as big as Evander, but he’s definitely the tallest and bulkiest of all five of us.And that’s saying something.But honestly, if they don’t shut up, I’ll have to choke out every one of them.
Without warning, Evander rushes Special K and drags him down from the counter.
“Enough!”I jump to my feet, clapping once, loudly.“Thank you all for stopping by.You’ve really cheered me up.That chicken joke was a banger.Y’all can get the fuck out now.”
“No way,” Cal says.“We’re not leaving you like this.No man left behind.”
“Declan’s right.”The booming voice comes from the other room.“Get the fuck out.”
Dad slowly strolls from the foyer into my kitchen.All he has to do is point to the door, and like Moses parting the Red Sea, my badass Navy SEAL brothers file out.
“Sit back down,” he says to me.“I’m making you hot chocolate.Your mother always made you hot chocolate when you were out of sorts, remember?”
I nod, sitting at the island.
“Always seemed to work,” he says.
He’s right.
Mom died when I was eleven, but I remember how the woman could perform miracles with a mug of hot chocolate and a cold washcloth.That was especially true after one of the Travis boys beat the shit out of me.As they often did.
I don’t argue with Dad—he can do whatever he wants in my house.I never argue with my father.I’ve pissed him off royally through the years with all my fucking around and finding out, but I never once contradicted him or gave him lip.None of us MacLaine boys did.
James Andrew MacLaine is that kind of father—a moral compass made of reinforced steel, a ramrod-straight man who always showed us true north.
Growing up, he gave us enough rope to get ourselves into some knotted-up messes, but he always waited to make sure we got ourselves out.He never gave us step-by-step instructions on how to save our own skins, but he never stood by and watched us hang ourselves, either.
I’m wondering if that’s why he’s here now.I wonder if my dad thinks I’m in such a bad spot that I’m about to slip the noose around my neck and kick the chair out from under me.
“First, a saucepan,” Dad says, going through my cabinets.
“To the right of the stove,” I tell him.
“Right of the stove.Smart.Very smart.That’s where I would put it, but I’m just an old boomer.Microwaves have taken the place of stoves for your generation.Found it!”He straightens, pan acquired.“All right, then.Milk in the refrigerator, and…”
“Sugar and cocoa in the pantry next to the fridge.”
He opens the pantry.“Not much in here, Declan.Definitely a bachelor’s place.”My father pulls out a plastic bag and holds it up, grinning.“Honey mustard pretzel pieces.My favorite.Can I have some?”
“Knock yourself out.”
“Got any NutterButters?Your aunt Phyllis took mine away.She’s always hiding my shit.”
“Sorry, but I’m fresh out, Pops.”
He opens the pretzel bag and tosses a handful of pieces into his mouth.
“Phyllis doesn’t let me eat these, either,” he says with his mouth full.“If it were up to her, all I’d eat would be raw broccoli and kiwi fruit with an occasional skinless chicken breast thrown in for excitement.I worry she’s trying to kill me.”Crumbs are falling down the front of his shirt.“I’m taking those damned cholesterol pills.I don’t need the diet police staking out my kitchen, right?”
He brushes off the pretzel crumbs and sets to making the hot chocolate.First, he warms the milk on a low flame, stirring constantly, his back to me.“You know, I heard some news about you and Summer.”
