A loud thud came from above, followed by the rapid patter of small feet racing down the stairs.
“Uncle ‘Taine!” Gunnar shouted as he launched his small frame off the last step and straight into me like a bat out of hell.
I laughed and scooped him into a bear hug. “What’s up, big man?”
“Did you come over for pizza night?” he asked eagerly as I put him down.
“Pizza night?” I said, shooting Drea a teasing glare. “Your stingy mama ain’t tell me about that.”
Drea rolled her eyes as she walked toward the kitchen. “Now how could I tell you if I ain’t know your a-s-s was coming over here? Plus, you can demolish a whole pie by yourself. You not about to be eating me and my baby out of house and home.”
Gunnar took my hand and tugged me towards the kitchen. “I don’t mind sharing with you, Uncle,” he whispered.
“That’s why you my dog,” I winked at him. “What kind of pizza we talking about?”
The smell of melted cheese hit me as we reached the kitchen, making my stomach growl.
“Pepperoni and extra cheese!” he yipped, dropping my hand and darting toward the breakfast nook tucked in the corner of the kitchen.
Drea opened the fridge and took out a jug of freshly made fruit punch and a can of Diet Coke for herself.
“Oh? You made fruit punch?” I quipped, grabbing paper plates off the counter. “You expecting company?”
“Your nephew asked for it, and I was in a good mood,” she shrugged. I put the plates on top of the pizza boxes and set them on the table.
“Pizza! Pizza!” Gunnar cheered, his face lighting up as his mother opened one of the boxes. The five-year-old was a carbon copy of me and Drea—proof that the Jackson genes were strong as hell. We all shared the same high yellow complexion and hazel eyes, though mine and Gunnar’s leaned more green and Drea’s had amber flecks. Drea tucked a napkin into his shirt like a bib, even though it was inevitable he was about to make a mess. He tipped the box open and grabbed a slice bigger than both his hands, the grease dripping onto the table before he took a bite.
“Lord, this child,” Drea groaned, shaking her head. She took the slice from him and placed it on his plate. “Gunny, please act like you have some home training.”
I chuckled as I grabbed a slice and loaded my plate with wings.
Gunnar updated me with everything going on at school and made me promise to go to his soccer game the following week. After dinner, I played a few rounds of video games with him before Drea dragged him upstairs for bed around nine. I flipped through the channels idly and scrolled through my phone until she came back downstairs.
“So what’s up with you?” she asked, handing me a beer as she settled on the large sectional beside me.
I shrugged, using the bottle opener on my keychain to pop the top. “Shit. I thought Slim would’ve hit me back by now,” I said, glancing at my watch. It was after 10 p.m.
A sly smile spread across my sister’s face. “How is Carmelo?” she asked, dragging his name out.
I side-eyed her and took a long sip of my beer. “I’m not y’all’s middleman. I don’t know why y’all won’t call each other.”
She raised an eyebrow. “The same way you won’t call Nairobi?”
I brought the bottle to my lips again, trying to ignore the dull ache creeping back into my chest.
Drea swirled her wine in her glass. “That’s what I thought.”
“Whatever,” I scoffed. “It’s not the same thing, and you know it.”
“If you say so,” she sang.
My sister, like Nairobi, knew exactly how to get under my skin without even trying.
“I’ve moved on,” I replied coolly. “It’s been two years, and I got other shit to worry about.”
“Brother, you don’t even like that new girl for real. What’s her name? Peyton?”
“Parker.”
