My mother scowls down into her frosting. “She’s been working so hard since Maryann jetted off.” She shakes her head, clucking her tongue. “Why anyone would ever think it’s a good time for a honeymoon right before Christmas, I’ll never know.”
“Well, love,” my dad says dryly, heading to the fridge. “Maryann is one you’ll know.” He holds a beer out to me, and I nod, so he goes in for a second, making quick work of cracking them open. “Come on then, boyo. Let’s sit and have a natter.”
“A natter,” I say with amusement as I follow him to the den. “You’ve been hanging out with Ma’s ladies too much since you retired, old man.”
He grunts, sitting down in his favorite armchair, waiting for me to take a seat on the couch before he hands my beer over. He turns on the TV, changing it to a sports channel where an old game of football is on. We both watch for a few minutes, a comfortable silence falling over us.
I tip my drink to my lips, trying to keep my mind as blank as possible and just letting the comfort of home swarm into my blood, but then my dad clears his throat. He shoots me a tense look, and I know I’m not going to like whatever he’s about to say.
“I talked to Monroe.”
“You can’t keep checking up on me, Dad,” I tell him tiredly. “And he can’t be going to you whenever he thinksthere’s a problem. I’m a grown-ass man. I can handle my shit.”
“Are you?”
I blink at him, thrown. “Am I what?”
“Are you handling your shit?” He pauses before adding, “Your mother is worried about you, and so am I. The accident was a bad one, Braxton, and it’s okay to admit you’re struggling.”
I slick my tongue over my top teeth, eyes dropping down to my drink. “I’m handling what I need to handle,” I say vaguely. “Everything is where it needs to be, and doing what it needs to be doing.”
“If you say so.” His tone is coated in doubt, but I won’t bite at the bait he’s casting.I’m fine.“How did the viewing go?”
I lean back against the back of the couch, an ache radiating through my shoulders and up my neck. “I assume Marjorie talked to Mom?”
“They might’ve spoken,” Dad agrees slowly, the corner of his mouth twitching. I shake my head, and he points a finger at me. “You didn’t want to leave town when you graduated. You deal with the consequences.”
“I know, I know. The viewing went really good. Gracie is even more in love with the house than she was before.”
He cocks a brow. “And you both have enough money for the down payment?”
My glare this time is full of irritation. “Dad, seriously.”
He holds a hand out. “I’m just asking. I want this to go right for youandfor Gracie. You know that.”
“Iknow,” I stress. “I’ve got it all in hand.”
“Everything is where it needs to be and doing what it needs to be doing,” he repeats.
I tip my bottle toward him, waiting for him to clink his against it. “Exactly.”
I don’t linger much longer, two days of work in a row taking their toll on my mind and my body. Just as I’m heading for the door, my mother presses a cupcake into my hand.
I give her a crooked grin, but she just shrugs. “I messed up the piping.” She points down at it. “Look, the baubles are all smudged into the branches.”
I shoot her a look. “You’re giving me the rejected cupcake?”
Mom gives me an arch look. “If that’s the way you want to look at it.”
“You know what?” I take a massive bite, green frosting coating my lips. I lick it off with relish. “Still tastes damn good, Ma.” She beams at me, but then it fades away, looking like she has something else to say. “What’s up?”
She purses her lips. “You’ll talk to us if you need to, right?”
“Of course,” I say with some confusion, and Mom reaches up to touch my unshaven cheek.
“We worry about you,” she says softly. “Just remember that we’re always on your side.”
I stare down at her, my chest feeling uncomfortably tight. “I know, Ma,” I say gruffly, looking away as I grab my coat, shrugging it on. “There’s nothing to worry about.” She doesn’t look like she believes me, but she nods. “I’ll message you,” I promise.
