Shameless(47)

This should scare me to hell and beyond, but for some reason it doesn’t.

I’m learning a lot about myself here. I used to think I didn’t want children. Ironically, it’s an argument Eric and I had more than once. But now that I’ve been around Mel and Cal and Izzy, I’d be hard pressed to say that again.

I decide to put Brady out of his misery. “I’d be knee deep in masa right now if I were home. I’d be slinging that stuff all over the kitchen forced-labor style while I made two hundred and fifty tamales so every family member could take home a dozen when they left our Thanksgiving table. So trust me when I say it’s no hardship to make dinner for the two of us.”

He’s quiet for a long time, and then finally asks, “So you have a big family?”

“Yup. My mother is the oldest of eight, my father is the oldest of five. I already told you about my sister, who’s obnoxious as hell, and I have too many cousins to count.”

Then he surprises me. “That must be nice.”

I turn back to look at him, to see if he’s joking. He’s not. “Tell me about your family. Is it just you and your parents?”

“My mom has a sister, but she’s in New York. Otherwise, it’s just me and my parents.” He doesn’t have to say the rest—it’s just him and his parents now—but I hear it in his voice.

I bite my lip, trying to think of something to cheer him up. “Want some hot chocolate? I was gonna make some for myself.” I wasn’t, but I know he likes it, and if it helps take his mind off Mel and Cal, then it’s an easy thing to do. Maybe it’s lame, but it’s the first thing I think of.

“Sure. I’d love it. But, Kat, you don’t have to do this. You don’t have to wait on me.”

I turn, and what I see breaks my heart. Because I know he feels alone. It’s etched in his expression and in the slump of his shoulders. I feel it too. Acutely. And because I meant what I said about us being friends, I do what I would with any friend right now.

Wiping my hands on a towel, I tell him, “Get up.”

He stares at me, looking like he doesn’t understand. I repeat the words and he stands hesitantly. And then I band my arms around him in a hug. A second later, he’s hugging me back. We stand there for a minute, and I whisper, “Don’t make more of this than it is, but I kinda like taking care of you. It’s not a big deal, though, okay?”

He doesn’t say anything, just squeezes me tighter before he plants a kiss on the top of my head.

When I step away, I ask, “So marshmallows?”

His responding smile makes me grin too. “Please.”





30





Brady





The smells coming from the kitchen make my stomach growl. I bounce Izzy on my lap and kiss her strawberry-scented hair before I hoist her into my arms. “Let’s go see what Aunt Kat is cooking up, hmm?”

She nods, her beautiful eyes playful. My brother’s eyes, I think sadly.

I stop in the doorway and watch Katherine scurry back and forth across the kitchen, checking the pots and pans on the stove.

“You do realize you’re only feeding two point five people, right?” I ask.

“Point five?” She glances at me over her shoulder. Her hair is tied up, which emphasizes her graceful neck.

Jesus Christ. Since when are necks graceful?

I try to focus on her question. “I believe Little Miss Sunshine here qualifies as the point five.”

Kat chuckles. “I suppose so.” She holds up a spoon of homemade stuffing. “Wanna bite, baby?”

“Uh, yeaaah.” Is it weird that she just called me baby? It doesn’t stop me from charging toward the food.

Kat gives me a deadpan look. “I meant the actual baby.”

“Oh.” My lips twist as I scratch the back of my neck. “That makes sense.”

She barely keeps in a laugh as she holds the spoon to my mouth. “Here, goofball.”

I give her a cheesy grin as I gobble it down. “Damn, this is good.” The beaming smile I get from Kat makes my chest hurt just a little bit.

And that hug she gave me last night? Yeah, that killed me too.

I meant what I said the other day. If we had met in Boston, I’d be pursing her like a fly ball at Fenway. But we’re not in Boston.

As tempted as I am to take her up on her offer, she’s a sweet girl. A good girl. I’m pretty sure she doesn’t sleep around, not that I have a problem with that, but I know enough to see she’s not a casual sex kind of woman even if she seems to be willing to try it for me.

None of this stops me from wishing things were different. I can’t stop thinking about her. How I could feel her heat when she straddled my lap. How she writhed beneath me when I pinned her down. How she moaned and gasped my name when she came against my mouth.

The truth, though? I’m going to be thinking about her long after I’m back home. And not because we never had sex.

Boston seems like a different world, and for a fleeting instant, I wonder what it would be like to stay here.

My eyes travel to Kat, where she makes our Thanksgiving dinner, and a strange, raw emotion cuts through me. I hoist Izzy higher, trying to shake off this absurd idea of remaining in Texas because there’s no way I can afford it.