Reckless(13)

“’Cause I’m what you’d call edumacated.” Regret eats at me since Logan never got a chance to go to college. He wanted to stay here to help me. He swears he doesn’t care, that school was never his thing, but it still bothers me he had to buckle down so soon.

My brother’s smile fades and he stares at me a long, awkward minute before his expression hardens. “Okay, you educated bastard, do yourself a favor and hire Tori before you die of a heart attack out there, trying to do everything on your own. If you’re so damn smart, get some help before you work yourself to death. Think about Mila and Cody. They need you to grow old and fat and lose your hair.”

A lump rises in my throat. Logan leans forward, his eyes somber, as he waits for the answer he wants to hear. One I reluctantly give him.

“Fine, I’ll hire Tori if it’ll get you off my ass.” I snatch the baseball hat off my head and toss it at him. “And ain’t no one losing his hair around here, asshole.”

Logan leans back in his chair, the smile on his face telling me he loves me, the sappy twerp. Thing is? I know I can’t do this by myself. And maybe Tori is exactly what I need. If we don’t strangle each other first.

“Glad to hear it.” He gets up and smacks me on the back. “Because I bought Mom’s ticket to Chicago. She leaves on Monday.”





6





Tori





The thick smell of cumin and chili powder wafts through the air, making my stomach growl. After one more stir, I tap the wooden spoon on the lip of the Dutch oven and place it in the “I love my spicy Mexican” spoon rest. That dumb thing still cracks me up, years after Brady gave it to my sister.

Cooking is the one thing I’m decent at, but only because I’ve had a shitty social life this last year. Though having a man-free diet made me turn to the next best alternative—actual food. While my friends were out partying, I was watching the Cooking Channel, doing my best to whip up those recipes, and trying not to feel like a loser.

I peer over my shoulder at Kat, who’s sitting at the kitchen table. “Hermana, are you sure you want it this spicy? I thought you had a lot of heartburn.”

Her lips tighten briefly and she blinks, once, twice. Miss Poker Face has the audacity to smile and shrug like she hasn’t a clue what I’m talking about.

She’s obviously hiding something.

Whatever. She’s been acting weird the whole day. Maybe I should chalk it up to a hormonal imbalance. If her feet weren’t so swollen, she’d insist on making dinner, but I talked her into kicking back and relaxing even though she’s going to be a back seat driver.

“Did you put in the Ro-Tel tomatoes?” she asks, eyeing the pot suspiciously.

See. Backseat driver. “Yeah, and when you’re hanging over the toilet later tonight, puking your little heart out, don’t blame me.”

She gives me that strange smile, the one that tells me she’s keeping a secret and thinks I’m clueless.

The front door slams shut and the stomp of boots coming through the living room echoes closer. Izzy comes racing around the corner with her arms open wide.

Three, two, one.

I turn back toward the stove as the sound of her feet stop, which tells me she’s gone airborne, followed by a grunt as she throws herself at her father. She might be seven, but she’s a total Daddy’s Girl.

“There’s my angel.” His voice rings out in the small kitchen. “And here’s my other angel.”

A minute later, the sound of smacking makes me smile and shake my head. Without looking, I know Brady has Izzy in his arms, and he’s leaning down to plant a wet one on Kat.

“Too much kissing,” Izzy jokes, and I snicker to myself. That kid is my mini-me, much to the chagrin of my sister.

Stirring the pot again, I give them a moment to be lovey-dovey. It makes me strangely emotional to be around them. They’re this perfect family unit. Every day, their house is filled with warmth and love. Even though I try to tell myself I don’t want this, that I don’t want a husband or kids because I know I’m a fuck-up, when I’m around Brady and Kat and little Izzy, I do want the happily ever after so much it makes my chest ache.

Damn Jamie for making me think that was possible.

I clench my jaw.

When I think the love fest is over, I turn around.

“Something smells good,” Brady says, setting his daughter down. “Ethan still coming over for dinner?”

“Mr. Ethan’s coming over?” Izzy grins.

What the… What?

My sister cringes and laughs awkwardly.

Crossing my arms, I squint. “Something you want to tell me, Katherine?”

We never discussed what happened at Ethan’s two days ago. What was the point? It was clear from everyone’s expressions in the living room they heard my argument with Ethan—his mom, his brother, my sister, the kids.

Although, to be honest, I’m not sure what we argued about. It was more about how Ethan made me feel. Like I wasn’t good enough. Like I was putting him out with my very existence. Like he took one glance at me and found me lacking.

The part of me that’s always screwing up wonders if I was being overly sensitive. That maybe Ethan’s just a crabby ass in general, and I was reading into things that weren’t there. Wouldn’t be the first time.