“Noey!” I catch him and hug him tight, smelling his strawberry-scented blond hair—the hair color that runs deep in the Montgomery family DNA. Nothing seems to alter it, even when others bring in their dark-haired DNA, like our mother did. “How’d you sleep?”
“Good.”
“No more monsters?”
“Nope. Not since you casted that spell.”
“It’s just cast, Noah.Castthe spell.”
“But it’s past tens.”
“Pasttense. And I know, but that’s the English language for you.”
I carry him into the kitchen, where Audrey is plating pancakes.
“I hope you made me chocolate chip,” I say, putting Noah down so he can sit for breakfast.
Audrey’s kitchen table is more worn than mine, since I eat down here more than she comes upstairs. They’re both round and seat four, but mine is a lighter wood compared to this dark one.
A lot of our furniture is the same just in different colors. We shopped together when we bought the house, and we have similar tastes in style, just not so much in color. Though, her excuse for going darker is to hide the stains and spills from Noah. Smart thinking.
“Can I have coffee today, Mom?” he asks.
“Not today, Noah.”
“Maybe tomorrow?”
“Maybe in ten years,” I say. “How about some orange juice?”
“No, it’s tooorange.”
“Too orange, huh?” I give Audrey a look. She shrugs as she brings two plates to the table.
“So, what are you drinking then, Noah? Come on, you guys have to eat and be off,” she says in herI didn’t get enough sleeptone. “You can’t make Uncle Miles late for work.”
“Coffee,” he says.
“Not an option. Try again.” She cuts his pancakes and drizzles syrup on top.
I go to the fridge, pulling the door open and looking over the options. There are five different bottles of juice in here, all that’re missing only a cup or two. Noah will try things, but he’s very judgmental about them. Like how orange juice is suddenly too orange… Which is funny, considering his issue with apple juice is that it isn’t the color of an apple.
“Well, I’m having this delicious white grape juice right here.” I take out the unopened jug. “Because it’s my favorite, and it’s so good, and—”
“I want that!” Noah shouts excitedly.
I wink at Audrey as I bring the jug to the table and fill Noah’s fire truck mug. I got it for him for Christmas a couple of years ago. It’s a plain white mug with a picture of a fire truck on it, and his name underneath. Made me the coolest uncle ever—even if I am hisonlyuncle.
“So, who was it?” Audrey asks, brushing her hand over her messy blonde hair as she takes a seat at the table between Noah and I, who sit across from one another.
“Who was what?” I ask, cutting a sizable chunk of extra chocolatey chocolate chip pancakes.
“The guy you brought home last night.”
“How do you know I brought someone home last night?” I take the bite, moaning at how good it is. Chocolate is the best. It’s good on everything. And Audrey makes the fluffiest pancakes.
She rolls her eyes, sipping from her#1 Mommug Noah picked out for her when he was two. Audrey won’t eat a thing before ten am. Says it upsets her stomach. I think she’s just always too busy taking care of Noah that she can’t think of taking care of herself when he’s around.
“You know I wait up for you when you go out. Heard two sets of feet going up the stairs.”
