That’s another reason I can’t unload my secrets. My brother believes in love. Believes in those happily-ever-after stories my parents fed us as kids. All this despite Ethan’s disastrous first marriage.
Tori made him believe in fairytales again, and I’m not gonna be the one to burst that bubble. For his sake and Tori’s, I hope they’re the exception to the rule. They’re happy, and that’s all that matters to me.
Blowing out a breath, I stretch my neck from one side and then the other, realizing how tense I am and that I probably just need to get laid. It’s been months since I’ve been with anyone, and between the family business, Joey returning, my brother’s wedding, and all the shit that shouldn’t be my responsibility but is, I’m wound tight.
Of course, that would require time I don’t have to socialize in ways I’m not interested in.
Whatever the solution to my wayward thoughts, one thing is clear—I need to stay away from Joey until they subside. And that shouldn’t be too hard. She’ll probably bunk here where my mother will monopolize all of her time until Ethan’s wedding.
I’m not sure how long I tune out and mindlessly gulp down dinner, but my mother’s next question makes me pause with my fork halfway to my mouth.
“Joey, honey.” My mom’s voice carries over everyone else’s. “When are you headed back to Florida?”
Unease crawls up my spine. I’ve been so preoccupied with her return that I hadn’t thought about her leaving again.
She shrugs, her eyes catching mine before she looks away. “Probably in two weeks, so a few days after the wedding.”
Twin spikes of pain and hunger launch through me. Pain that this visit will probably be the last time I see her in the foreseeable future, and hunger for something I can never have and shouldn’t want.
I grip my fork and, before I can help myself, blurt out, “Why aren’t you staying longer?”
After a long silence, Joey sighs. “I was barely making ends meet here. At least in Florida I can work for my cousin, who’s opening a new salon.”
“But that’s ’cause you were paying everyone else’s bills.” Her good-for-nothing brother would rack up debt and let his little sister deal with it, like she didn’t have her hands full enough with her grandmother, who had early-onset dementia. One minute Rosalie would be lucid and the next she’d be calling Joey by her mother’s name, the mother who died when Joey was twelve.
My heart swells for her. Jo’s been through so much, but you’d never know it. She’s always so sweet and loving despite the hand she drew in life. No wonder my family grafted her on like she’s one of ours.
“I just think it’d be easier if I left.” The resignation in her voice kills me.
I consider all the times she’s given me pep talks, and I wanna be that same voice of optimism for her. “What if you got a job in Austin? It would probably pay more than staying local.” Our town is barely a speck on the map.
“And where am I supposed to stay?” Now she looks pissed, not at me necessarily. I mean, I don’t think. “Silas sold the house. I’m guessing Gran’s Buick isn’t sitting in the driveway waiting for me. What am I supposed to do? Ride a bike to work in the Texas heat? Borrow one of your horses and hoof it to work?” She laughs, unamused and sounding much older than her twenty-two years. “I’m tired of everything being so difficult. Don’t you ever want life to work out? For the universe to tell you that you’re on the right path because the dominoes line up? And I’m not talking about working hard. I mean not always feeling like I’m swimming upstream all the time.”
Patrick sets down his fork. “Did you know that after salmon swim upstream, they lay their eggs and die?”
I narrow my eyes at him. Seriously?
“What? It’s true. I saw this documentary on National Geographic. Most go back to the place they were born to kick the bucket.” He slurps up a giant bite of mashed potatoes. “And apparently you can eat them once they’re dead. It’s not weird or anything, like barbecuing roadkill. That is, if the salmon aren’t gobbled up first by a bear or beaver.”
Everyone stares at him.
Mila turns to her dad. “What’s roadkill? And have we barbecued it?”
Ethan gives me a look like this is my fault.
Needing to redirect this conversation, I motion between my mother and brother. “Is there any way to challenge the sale of Rosalie’s house?”
The expressions on their faces say it all. Ethan’s brows pull tight. “Doubtful. The new family’s already living there.”
My mom pats Joey’s hand gently. “I was so sorry to hear about your grandmother. She was a lovely woman. When I heard the news, I lit a candle for her at church.”
“Thank you. That means a lot to me.”
“Sorry, Jo. I know that had to be hard. We all loved Gran.” I clear my throat. It killed me to not be there for her when Rosalie died.
But then again, I didn’t find out until weeks after she passed when Tori mentioned it.
I might still be a little butthurt Jo didn’t tell me herself. Fine—I’m pissed about it, but I know that’s immature, so I try to think of something more consoling to say.
“Silas is an ass for selling that house.” Yeah, I might need to work on my condolences.
God, I am a fuck-up.
Thankfully, Joey’s expression tells me she knows what I mean.
I point at the kids before they get up in arms about the curse word. “For your information, ‘ass’ means ‘donkey.’”
Mila tilts her head, staring up at her dad, the oracle of wisdom and all things holy in her eyes. “So I can say ‘ass’ if I mean ‘donkey?’ Like, ‘look at that big ass crossing the road?’”
Ethan glares at me, and I laugh under my breath.
“What I don’t understand,” Tori mulls aloud, drawing away the ire of my brother, “is how Silas had the authority to sell that house.”
We look to Joey, and she shakes her head. “Maybe Silas was on the deed. There’s no telling what he had Gran sign. At least this time he wasn’t forging her checks to cash her social security.”
“I’d like to give Silas a piece of my mind and maybe a foot up his ass.” Tori slaps a hand over her mouth and looks between the kids. “I mean donkey! Dang it, sorry, guys. I’m a bad girl.”
She has a mouth worse than mine, but it’s one of the reasons I like her so much. But Ethan doesn’t take issue with her like he did with my curse word. I’m close enough to hear him whisper, “Yeah, but you’re my bad girl.”
I hold back a gag. Barely.
When Cody lodges a cheesy noodle up his nose, I decide I’d rather deal with that than watch the ongoing foreplay between brother and future sister-in-law.
As I’m dislodging the offending pasta, Joey clears her throat. “Guys, can I ask a favor? I hate imposing, but I was wondering if I could stay here for a few days. I only found out about Silas selling the house this afternoon, and I’m too furious to track him down to stay with him. I need some time to cool off, since our great state of Texas takes things like murder seriously.”