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That’s one word for it.

The girls look at each other and shrug, leaving me flabbergasted. Don’t get me wrong. I love Aiden. Would die for the dude, but we don’t fight like this. We actually get along really well. Maybe it’s the age gap, or maybe it’s because we don’t have ADHD; I don’t know. I’m sure Ally would have some study she’s done that can explain why. I think it may be because my dad spoiled them rotten. He was tough on us boys. Didn’t want us making the same mistakes he did.

“It’s silent. Did Emery finally kill Stella?” I look up to find my dad coming into the kitchen. He sees the girls and grins. “Oh, thank goodness, you two are still breathing.”

He goes over to them, kissing each of their heads before wrapping his arms around my mom and kissing her jaw. The girls both audibly gag before leaving the kitchen, and I go back to eating my eggs, ignoring the acts of love. They’ve been married a long time, and they can’t ever keep their hands off each other. I’ve always heard from other people you’re supposed to get bored with your wife, but they haven’t met my parents. They’re totally in love and don’t care who sees it. I was like that with Jasmine. Always touching her, kissing on her, and she ate it up.

She also enjoyed it from her girlfriend.

When my dad slaps me hard on the back, I jump as I bring my gaze to his. While I look like my mom, I have my dad’s angular features and eyes. All of us but Emery have dad’s eyes. Hers are a lighter green, really pretty, but surely that won’t distract some dude from the crazy.

It will—at first. I can already see this playing out. Dude will be mesmerized, and bam! she’ll slash his tires when he doesn’t get her a latte.

“I’m glad you beefed up. I was worried,” Dad teases, and I snort.

“Thanks.”

He grins, hugging my neck. I l

ean into him. “It’s good to have you home.”

“With the way the girls are acting, he’ll be out faster than Aiden was,” Mom says, cleaning off the counter. “Maybe Stella should go live in the dorms. Maybe Emery does need a break from her.”

“No, they’re fine. They’re sisters. Sisters fight.”

Mom doesn’t agree. “I never physically fought my sister.”

“Because Audrey wouldn’t hurt a fly. Plus, you’re older. She was terrified of you.”

“Ooh, speaking of Audrey, when is she making my carrot cake cupcakes?”

Mom glances over her shoulder at me. “You’ll have to go by and see her for that to happen.”

I nod. “I will as long as she doesn’t pinch my cheek and call me Slim Jim.”

Dad and Mom laugh quietly, but I’m not amused. I love Aunt Audrey, she’s cool, but she loves embarrassing the shit out of me. When I brought Jasmine home to meet everyone, Audrey deliberately told her I pissed the bed until I was twelve. It isn’t my fault I had a bladder issue and Emery loved to pick on me, so she’d put my hand in water! Come to think of it, Emery’s been an asshole since birth. Jasmine didn’t seem to find my pissing misfortune funny, and I was mortified. I still haven’t forgiven Aunt Audrey—or Emery, for that matter—but for carrot cake cupcakes from Audrey’s cupcakery, I just might.

“She will,” Dad and Mom say together, and then they share a look. A look that would make anyone want to gouge their eyes out.

I need out of this house.

Dad leans on the counter, snacking on the strawberries Mom cut up. I grab one for myself as he asks, “You ready for the interview?”

I nod and, around my chewing, say, “Yeah.”

“Good, don’t be nervous. You’ll get it.”

“I want to get it because I’m awesome.”

“You will. I don’t know any kids who graduated early and interned for three arenas at the same time.”

Mom beamed. “We have the gas statements as proof.”

I chuckle. “Yeah, thanks for that.”

“Anytime. We believe in you, bud,” Dad says with a wink, and I smile. My dad wasn’t really into school. He is dyslexic, so he focused all his energy on hockey since he hid his issues. He always thought he wasn’t good enough, and because of that, he really pumps us up. There isn’t a moment from my childhood that I don’t remember my dad telling us we could do and be whatever we wanted. Nothing could hold us back. When Emery was diagnosed with dyslexia, he made sure to get her the best therapist money could buy. She still struggles, but she’s so confident, no one knows.

“Thanks, Dad.”


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