“Where’s the green bean casserole?” Conner asked.
Of course the one thing she didn’t make was the one thing he asked about. Since she was leaving in the morning, she hadn’t gone al out. She’d cooked just the basics, and not a ton, so she wouldn’t have a lot of leftovers to rot in the refrigerator. “We’l have it at Christmas.”
Vince poured gravy on his potatoes and turkey and looked across at Sam. “How’s that shoulder?”
“About 60 percent.” Sam lifted his elbow away from his body and grinned. “Thanks for asking, frog squat.”
Conner laughed, Vince’s gaze narrowed, and tension pul ed at the back of Autumn’s skul . She didn’t know what a frog squat was. She was sure Conner didn’t know either, but she was fairly sure it wasn’t nice. She pointed to Sam. “Did you hear what I said to Vince?” She knocked on an invisible door. “Until your ears bleed.”
He tilted his head back and laughed like everything was just hilarious. Then he settled in and ate as if he was on death row, and this was his last meal. He seemed happy and relaxed, like he ate dinner at her house every day. Like they were friends. Like they hadn’t been going at each other’s throat a few months ago, and like her brother wasn’t staring holes through him. He didn’t seem bothered by anything, and several times she caught him watching her as if he was looking for something.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“Not a thing.” He reached for more turkey and stuffing. “You’re a very good cook. I didn’t know that about you.”
Why would he? “Thank you.”
“Hey, Dad, you should move in here.” Conner pushed his peas beneath his rol as if his mother wouldn’t notice. “We have a bedroom downstairs.”
Autumn’s forehead got tight and achy.
Sam chewed and swal owed as if giving it some thought. “I don’t know. I have a lot of stuff. And where would I put that water wal you like so much?”
Vince muttered something under his breath that sounded like an impossible suggestion for where Sam could put the “water wal .” By the time dinner was over, Autumn was so tense her spine felt brittle.
Vince looked at his watch and placed his napkin beside his plate. “Gotta get back to the grind.”
Vince was her brother, her friend and protector. Besides Conner, he was the only family she had, but she was relieved to see him go.
“I drew you a picture, Uncle Vince. It’s in my art center.” Conner jumped down and ran from the room Vince stood and tucked his Titan Security shirt into his Dickeys.
Sam leaned back and pointed to Vince’s belt. “Where’s your gun, cowboy?”
“I don’t need a gun, asshole. There are more than a hundred ways to kil someone.” He smiled. “And a hundred ways to dispose of a body in places it wil never be found.”
Autumn knew he was kidding. Kind of. “Wel , I hope you come over while I’m gone and eat the leftover turkey. Or do you want to take some with you. Pie?”
Vince ignored her. “I wasn’t around the last time you hurt Autumn. I’m here now, and it’s not going to happen again.”
Sam folded his arms across his chest and leaned the dining-room chair back on two legs. “I heard you the first time.”
There’d been a first time? Where had she been? She stood and fol owed her brother into the living room. “What was that about?”
He gave her a big hug, the kind of deep squeeze that settled in her bones and let her know how much he loved her. The kind of love that would last forever. No matter how much he made her mad. “Cal me when you get to your beach house tomorrow, so I know you’ve made it.”
She didn’t tel him not to worry about her. He would anyway. “I wil .”
“Here it is.” Conner walked into the room and handed Vince the picture. “We’re playing putt-putt like last year.”
“Yep. There you are.” Vince pointed to the little blond figure, then folded the paper and put it in his breast pocket. “I’l study it at work.” He gave Conner a quick hug, then moved down the stairs. “I’l come over while you’re gone, check up on things, and eat the leftovers.”
“Thanks.” She raised her hand as he walked out the door and shut it behind him.
She felt like a half-ton brick had been lifted from one shoulder. The other half ton was stil in the dining room. “Are you going to help me clean up?”
she asked Conner.
He shook his head. “I gotta draw Dad a picture.” He took off down the hal to his bedroom. Typical. “Tel me when it’s dessert time,” he cal ed out over his shoulder.