“She’s the middlest,” Reid says, as Dolly flops over in his lap. His hand pauses a minute, then very cautiously continues petting. “She’s so middle our parents don’t even know she has a girlfriend.”
Andi makes a neutral noise and drinks more coffee.
“Which you can’t tell them,” Reid blurts out, suddenly looking a little panicked that he might have told the wrong semi-secret to the wrong person; most of my siblings havesomethingthey’re hiding from each other and/or my parents, and in a family of fourteen remembering who’s allowed to know what can get tricky.
“I definitely won’t,” Andi says. “I promise.” She doesn’t have to sayif I ever talk to them again it’ll be too soon.
“I can draw you a family tree later,” I offer, just to change the subject a little.
“And of course, everyone wants Gideon on their side because he’s the Sweden of the family,” Reid finishes, and Andi looks at me in slight confusion.
“Switzerland,” I say to Reid. “Sweden’s the one with fjords, Switzerland is the neutral one with banking.”
“I always fuck that up,” he mutters.
“And I’m on Sadie’s side, obviously,” I reassure them both. “Though I wish she hadn’t faked it quite so hard.”
“Really?Youwish she’d been more honest?” Reid says, bitterness leaking through into his voice.
“There’s lying and then there’slying,” I say. “She’s the one who kept the purity ring on and went to church with them.”
Reid looks down and pets Dolly without responding.
“I haven’t been to church in years. I’m not faking anything,” I tell him, ignoring the same tug of guilt I feel every time we talk about this.
He’s quiet for a long moment, concentrating very hard on giving Dolly ear scratches.
“Right. Sorry. Never mind,” he finally says without looking up, and I bite back the next ten things I want to say.
“How are the outdoor animals?” I ask instead. He gives me a look.
“Fine,” he says. “Appreciative of heating pads.”
I sigh and accept this.
* * *
“Hey,”Andi shouts, hours later, her voice half-swallowed by the snow and the trees and the sky. “What do feral hog tracks look like?”
“Same as regular hog tracks,” I call back, giving a knot one last tug.
“You can’t possibly think that was a helpful response.”
I walk over to where she’s squatting, boots crunching through the snow. It’s in the forties today, at least ten degrees above freezing, so the snow is crunchy and sticky, the whole forest dripping.
“Like an oval with a sharp notch in the front,” I say as I crouch next to her and look down at the snow. “Yup. That’s a big ‘un.”
“How big?”
I shrug. “Real big?”
“Why do you sound so southern all of a sudden?”
“I’ve got news for you,” I tell her, and she laughs, even as she’s glancing around the forest. “You’d hear it if it were nearby,” I reassure her.
Andi doesn’t look reassured.
“How big isreal big?”
