The muscles in my shoulders are so tense a pain shoots up my neck and down the center of my back. Damn it. I belong here. I’m not letting her push me out of my own town.
“Okay.” My mom blinks as she inhales and plasters a smile on her face. “You need to get to work, so go stand by the fireplace. You and Ivy.”
“I’m not going to my first day at work,” Ivy groans from the sofa with her feet propped back onto the coffee table. Her white socks are neatly folded to her ankles with the black swoosh prominently displayed. Her skin still holds a faint tan from baking in the sun at the pool this summer. “I don’t see why I have to be punished. Why didn’t you go get Hannah?”
“Get in the picture with your brother.” My mother’s tone leaves nothing in question. We’ll both do what she says. “Hannah worked late last night.”
After Ivy shoves her shoes back on, I sling my arm over her shoulders. “You poor thing. Still living with Mom and Dad.”
“Shut up.” She glares at me and shoves her elbow into my ribcage. “You’re the one who made her like this. A rough-and-tumble boy who got into everything. And then, you ran off and left Hannah and me behind. She’s been a helicopter mom ever since.”
“Sorry, Tiny Tot.” I haul her close to me and kiss the top of her head.
As the oldest, I did set the tone for how our parents turned out. I was six years old when Hannah was born and then ten when Ivy came along. With Hannah, I thought she was a nuisance. But Ivy? I wink at my sister as we pose in front of the fireplace. She was the doll.
I took her to all the sports and school events because all the girls flocked to me, wanting to see the perfect angel.
“Smile for the camera.” Our mom stands six feet away with her phone in front of her face.
“Remember to get our heads.” I straighten as Ivy giggles.
“One time. One time I took pictures of the flower beds and only captured the tops of the tulips.” The light flashes as she takes a photo. “And now you question all my skills.”
“Mom, you did get one of those business cards with, ‘A kindergartener can stay in the lines better than you can,’ when you parked in the city last week.” My sister lays her head on my chest, making my heart squeeze with love. She no longer smells like baby shampoo. Now, she smells like a mixture of perfume and beauty products. But it’s so good to be home.
“Can you believe that?” My mom’s face is red as she lowers the phone. “Of all the nerve.”
“Were you inside the lines?” I ask.
“Well, no, but that’s not the point. The point is that it’s rude.”
“And everyone here knows that she parks three feet back from the curb in front of the gas station and no one says anything.” Ivy winks at me.
“As they should.” My mom’s stern expression morphs into a smile as she laughs. “I’ve missed this.”
So, have I.
Fifteen Minutes Later
As I’m climbing into my lifted pickup, my mom steps up to the door and waits. So much for avoiding this conversation. I settle into the seat and arch an eyebrow. “What?” There’s still some hope that she’s not waiting to ambush me about Emily.
My mom glances over her shoulder, making sure Ivy isn’t within earshot. The passenger door to her car slams shut as my sister slumps into the seat. She’s instantly shrouded in darkness as the sun has yet to peek over the horizon. “I didn’t want to say anything in front of Ivy.”
“So, don’t say anything.”
“Jake.” Her eyes narrow into slits. “I’m going to say something.”
“Fine.” Now, my posture mirrors my sisters. “Go for it.”
“Have you talked to her?”
“Her, who?” And now, I’m sulking and being obstinate.
“You know who I’m referring to.” Her eyes glow with unrestrained irritation as she crosses her arms over her chest toward off the crispness of the early morning. “The girl who ran my son out of town by choosing his friend when you were finally ready to admit you cared about her and then kept you away from your mother’s house for four years.”
“I didn’t–”
“Save it for someone who wants to listen to your bullshit.” The look she gives me causes my stomach to cramp. I hate disappointing my mother, or my father, for that matter.
