“Aunt Karen!” I jump up.
“You didn’t think you’d do this day without me, did you?” She squeezes around my neck.
“Hi, little sister.” My dad approaches her slowly.
“You look good, big brother. Glad to see you’re finally letting something penetrate your bomb shelter of an exterior. I mean, I always hoped it would bemewho made you cry, but beggars can’t be choosers.” She winks at him as he rolls his eyes. Then she leans in and hugs him first.
Her face grows serious. “I’m sorry about Dean,” she says to both of us.
“Thank you,” we say in unison.
“It’s a good thing I swing for the other team, because I was stuck for thirty minutes helping a room full of what can only be described as a firefighter calendar in that chapel, and I let my head spin up some wild ideas.”
“Karen!” Dad barks. “That’s my crew you’re talking about.”
“I know!” she squeals. “Which one of them are you planning on marrying off to your daughter?”
I scold her this time. “Karen!”
“The one who’s not here yet,” my dad fills in.
Aunt Karen’s eyes bounce between us before she reads me in the way she’s always been good at and changes the subject.
“Well, we better get back in there before one of them burns the place down. They know how to put out fires, but who the hell put them in charge of lighting candles with matches?”
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
REED
“Dad? What are you doing here?”
Everything about him is all wrong, from his less-than-composed tear-soaked cheeks to his missing loafers.
“And what are you wearing?” I blurt out into the hallway.
He drops his chin to his pickle-colored tracksuit.
“The department store saleswoman said matching sets are really popular right now,” he blubbers.
“Fromwhere? JCPenney? I don’t think she meant—” I wave my hand in the air. “Never mind.”
“As a matter of fact…”
My eyes widen.My Rolex-wearing father was shopping at one of the last department stores left standing?
“Who are you and what have you done with Emmett Morgan?”
He hiccups through his laugh. “Well, are you gonna invite this old track star in or not?”
I hold the door ajar and step out of the way. “Be my guest.”
He strolls past the bathroom and mirrored closet and stops at the foot of the bed. “It’s a single king,” he comments.
Well, yeah. I wasn’t expecting company, I think to myself. “How did you find me?” I ask instead.
He dries his eyes with his polyester sleeve and bulldozes over my question. “There’s this Mexican restaurant down the street. You want to grab some food?”
I squint at him. Wait,dinner? That explains the raging headache. I must have only been asleep for a few hours. It’s still the same day I left them, the same day we lost Dean…
