Will snorted. “Course I’m going to miss her. We see each other every day. I don’t know what I’m going to do when she’s not right across the street anymore.”
His face fell slightly, making my heart lurch.
“Gainesville and Tallahassee aren’t that far from each other,” I reminded him, skipping to catch up with his longer strides. “I’m sure you’ll still see her all the time.”
“It’s different in college though. People start new lives. They forget about things back home.” His voice dropped a bit. Will was normally a cheerful, glass-half-full kind of person, so hearing him like that was jarring. It shouldn’t have surprised me, though. Alex was his entire world.
“But you’ll talk every day, and you’ll see her at Thanksgiving, because you’re coming home,right?”
I narrowed my eyes to make sure he knew how serious I was. Mom had threatened him with no care packages if he ever skipped a visit home on school breaks. We were all sad at the thought of being without him for months at a time.
A laugh escaped Will’s lips. “Aw, Rosie, are you going to miss me?”
“Hardly,” a voice called from the back patio, echoing through the trees. “She’s just worried that if you don’t come back, I’m finally going to get the big room.”
Tommy was sitting in one of the red Adirondack chairs near the fire pit, a tattered paperback open on his lap. His grin was wide, his eyes crinkling beneath his black-framed glasses. We had lovingly bullied him into making the switch from his round Harry Potter eyewear to Clark Kent–esque frames earlier in the year.
“If anyone’s getting the room, itisme,” I shouted back. “I have more clothes than you and his closet is huge.”
“Ah, but I have more books, and Will’s room has those built-in shelves.”
“Well, what makes either of you think I’m giving up my room?” Will asked. “Mom’s desperately hoping I hate living on campus and come home to do mycourses online.” We’d reached Tommy’s perch in the garden. Will disappeared through the back door.
Tommy abandoned his book and followed him in, forever the overeager younger sibling. I grabbed it, knowing he’d be annoyed if he forgot it was out here and it got soaked by one of the early-summer rains.
The inside of the house was warmer than usual, the smell of garlic wafting through the kitchen and a Michael Bay movie screeching across the TV screen.
“Willy!” A tiny squeal cut through the noise of the TV. Hazel hurled herself toward our oldest brother, wrapping herself around his leg like a small animal.
“Well, hey there, Hazelnut,” Will said, wagging his leg so that her small body moved with it in circles.
“Be careful with her, William,” Mom warned from the kitchen, a red spatula pointed at her eldest son. Her Southern drawl made it sound more threatening than she meant it to be. She was too relaxed to be truly angry at anyone. She had a half-full glass of red wine beside her on the counter, and her black heels had been kicked off near the front door. Classic signs of a good workday.
“Mom, relax,” Will assured her, a smile stretched across his face as Hazel’s shrieks of delight filled the front room. “She loves it.”
Hazel’s face was turning red from how hard she was laughing. More fair than the rest of us, Hazel’s skin revealed everything she felt.
“Are you murdering my favorite child over there?” our father called from the couch.
Will grinned. “Oh, come on, Dad. She can’t be the favorite. She’s not evenyours.”
Our father turned around from the couch, grinning at the familiar joke. Hazel being nine years younger than her closest sibling, and having fairer skinand eyes than the rest of us, had led to an onslaught of family jokes about her parentage. They were always lighthearted, and my parents took it in stride.
Our father considered this. “Maybe so, but she’s still the cutest.”
Tommy snickered. “Yeah, because she looks like the mailman.”
“Y’all are going to make that child pee herself,” Mom said, shaking her head. She turned back to the pot that was bubbling on the stove. I could smell it now and realized with delight she was making her famous Cajun pasta.
Mom motioned over to the table. “Come on, everyone, grab your grub.” She took her usual seat beside Dad, getting comfortable as the rest of us followed. “We’re sitting at the table tonight.”
“Aren’t we more of an eat-on-the-couch type of family?” Will asked, looking amused.
“Unfortunately,” Mom said, looking a little embarrassed as we took our seats at the table. “And your granddad lectures me about it every time he visits. But tonight was your dad’s idea, so we’re having a real meal together.”
“Parents still lecture you even at your age, huh?” Tommy teased.
“It’s a lifelong burden,” Mom said, smiling as she flicked a piece of garlic bread in Tommy’s direction. It flew past him and landed on the floor, where our haggard beagle, Davis, lunged for it.
