I just kept thinking about Mama. I kept wondering how Lance could look at me and not feel hate. Mama gave him up while he was fighting for his life. She wasn’t there when he had heart surgery as a newborn. She didn’t think to find him until she was at the end of her miserable existence. Did she ever wonder if he was okay? Did she even care? Mama thought she did the heroic thing by giving him up, but she abandoned him in his time of need. “Blakely? Sweetheart, did you hear me?”
I turned around and faced Mrs. Trask with a forced smile. “I’m sorry. Yes, I like to bake, though I’m not very good at it.”
“Lance just walked over with Decker to the Harris’s to say hello to his parents. We have time to kill; how about we bake a pie?”
My mouth dropped open in shock. A pie? She wanted to bake a pie? How…wholesome.
“You’ll have to walk me through it,” I admitted.
“Well, that’s what recipes are for. Grab those apples in the fruit basket and start peeling them. I’ll get started on my homemade crust. My husband will think I’ve been abducted by aliens for making something with sugar in it. But special times call for treating yourself, yeah?”
I just nodded, mostly because I didn’t know how else to respond. I grabbed the apples as she placed a cutting board on the kitchen island, accompanied by a peeler. She hummed as she got the ingredients for her crust, giving me reassuring smiles as she floated across the marble tile in her kitchen. She really was beautiful. Her smile was infectious. “Lance tells me you’re attending MAMS? I’ve heard good things about that school. Are you hoping to go into a science field?”
“I don’t know what I want to do. I thought I wanted to be a doctor, but bodies kind of gross me out. Maybe pharmaceutical research? I think I’ve convinced Decker I want to be an astronaut.”
Katy Trask laughed. It sounded like birds chirping in the wind. “Decker is hopelessly helpful and gullible. I bet he’ll sign you up for a NASA internship.”
“Funny, he said Lance was the one that was constantly helping people.” Katy stopped mixing the dough to look at me. She seemed to gnaw on her inner cheek for a moment as if debating on what to say.
“There’s a difference, you know,” she began. “I love those two boys. Lance helps because he has so much love in his heart but no place to put it. He’s good to me, but he’s always wanted to know about your mom—and now you. He just wanted the chance to love, you know? I’m really thankful that you’re giving him that opportunity, Blakely.”
My heart fell in my stomach, and I nearly sliced my finger as I looked up to stare at Katy. She tilted her head to the side, emotion evident in her eyes. “And what about Decker?” I asked. She gave me a knowing smile that made me uncomfortable.
“Decker helps because he wants to be the hero. He doesn’t think he’s good enough at saving people, so he overcompensates. He couldn’t save his mom from her alcoholism. Couldn’t save his father from his ego. Couldn’t save himself when he had a gun pointed at his head.”
Air got trapped in my chest, and I tried not to show how much her words truly affected me. “I didn’t know that about his parents,” I replied lamely.
“Not many do. I’m only sharing because I know their relationship doesn’t make sense to a lot of people. Lance needed someone to love. Decker needed someone to save. They’ve both reversed those roles numerous times, but their brotherhood is a bond that I’m incredibly thankful for. I’m sure you’re wondering where you fit in that dynamic, but I think you already know.”
Visions of pancake breakfasts and forbidden kisses filtered through my mind. “Yeah. I think I do.”
Lance and Decker were gone long enough for Katy Trask and me to make two pies and a meatloaf dinner. She kept the conversation light, focusing on embarrassing stories from Lance and Decker’s childhood. I laughed so hard my cheeks hurt, and it wasn’t until she was setting the table for dinner that I realized Decker and Lance were still gone.
“Go fetch them, yeah? Tell Decker to come, too. I doubt his parents planned anything.”
I wanted to ask more questions about Decker’s parents but knew it wouldn’t be appropriate. So instead, I nodded and headed out the front door, pausing at the sight of Decker’s large house. Should I have called? No. Katy said to go get them. Why was I questioning everything lately?
As I walked toward the front door, I thought about the night before we got here. Something had changed in Decker—something I didn’t quite understand. He was more open about this…thing…between us. He was warm. Accepting.
It scared the hell out of me. I’d been hoping for his affection for so long I didn’t know what to do now that I had his attention. I knocked on the door while clicking my heels, and it wasn’t until the doorknob was turning that I realized I’d be meeting Decker’s parents for the first time. What if they didn’t like me? Why did I care?
Luckily, it was Lance on the other side of the door. “Hey,” he greeted with a sad smile. “Dinner ready? Sorry we left you there; something came up.”
A shrill scream in the living room, followed by Lance’s wince made me gasp. “Tell Mom it’s a bad time…” he rushed out while trying to shut the door in a lame attempt at blocking me from the commotion inside.
“Who is that Lance?” a slurred voice said at his back.
“No one, Mrs. Harris.” A manicured hand landed on my brother’s shoulder, yanking him back and granting me an unobstructed view of Mrs. Harris.
I’m sure she was beautiful once. She had dark eyes, washed-out skin, and cracked lips. She was thin—too thin. It was like she had spent more time counting calories than actually eating.
“Are you fucking my husband?” she cried out while wiping her lips with the back of her hand. “That’s where he is right now. Fucking one of his whores instead of visiting with his son who never visits anymore!” Her voice was like a screech as she reached out to grab my shirt. I took a step back to escape her reach.
“I’m not fucking your husband. I’m just eighteen,” I replied calmly. I’d seen destructive before. Was raised by a hurricane, so I could detect the switch in the air.
“That hasn’t stopped him before,” Mrs. Harris said with a roll of her sunken-in eyes.
“Well, I’m here to tell you dinner is ready. You going to sulk about your shitty husband some more or introduce yourself and get presentable for dinner? I made a meatloaf.” To anyone else, my words might have seemed crass, but this was how I handled Mama. I learned that she didn’t respond to doting. She couldn’t handle calm reassurances. She needed brutal honesty and a selfless soul willing to dish it out.
She blinked a couple times, ruminating in my comment while deciding which part of my words to address first. Lance gave me a scolding look, but I knew how to handle this situation. Taking care of Mama required nerves of steel and a mean streak. When people were so caught up in their own bullshit, it required a certain level of sass to yank them back down to the real world.
Where the hell was Decker?
“Who are you?” she finally asked.
“Lance’s sister,” I replied while reaching out to shake her hand, but snaking it back when I noticed dried vomit on the back of it. “Why don’t you get cleaned up? We’ll go to the Trask house in twenty minutes.” It was essential to not allow inebriated people the opportunity to formulate an excuse. I’d said variations of the same thing my entire life.