Page 45 of My Almost Ex

Iexpect to find an empty house when I pull up at my childhood home, but the driveway is lined with trucks. Great. I quickly debate if I want to reverse and get the hell out of here, but my dad steps out of the house and waves as though he was expecting me.

I park the truck in a spot that should stay clear for me to make an exit should I need to.

“Adam, how are things?” my dad asks, leaning along the railing of the porch.

“What are you doing here?”

“Well, Marla felt you guys live in filth, so she decided today is spring cleaning day.”

I turn around to go back to my truck. Last time it was spring cleaning day, I ended up sorer than when I hike five miles. The woman doesn’t stop until every dust bunny is dead. I’m not even sure why she goes to so much effort. We’re all bachelors here, no one cares.

Rylan, my eleven-year-old half brother, comes outside, doing that damn Karate Kid soccer ball bouncing on his knees thing.

“Hey, Ry guy,” I say, stealing the ball from him.

“What’s up, Adam?”

“You have soccer today?”

“Tomorrow. You gonna come?”

I ruffle his hair. I can’t believe he’s almost my height. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“You should. He’s playing Calista’s team.” My dad puts that inflection in his voice to suggest Rylan likes Calista.

Rylan rolls his eyes and continues bouncing the ball. “We’re not even friends.”

“You should talk to your brother about finding love young. He found his.”

I clasp Rylan on the shoulder. “Trust me, stay clear.”

He scowls. “I don’t even like her. She thinks she’s better than me.”

Rylan and Calista have been rivals since they were young, when the coach made them practice together because the two of them are the best competition they have in this area. I hate to break it to him, but he probably does like her. But unlike the rest of my family who razzes the kid every chance they get, I try not to bug him about it too much.

“Is it safe?” I point toward the door.

“She’s in the kitchen. Fisher’s taking a shower,” Rylan says.

I groan and open the screen door.

Jed’s carrying a laundry basket full of crap and drops it on the couch. “Cade got off easy when he moved out. He doesn’t have to do these spring cleaning days anymore.”

“No, but he does have Presley to nag him to death,” I say.

Jed laughs and sits on the couch to sort through the stuff.

“Marla, I’m in the shower!” Fisher screams from the bathroom.

We laugh.

“Just stay behind the curtain,” my stepmom hollers back. “I can’t hear myself think with this music playing.”

A minute later, Fisher’s music—which he blares during every shower—is turned off.

“And I don’t want any excuses, you need to come and help your brothers.”

“I could arrest you,” Fisher grumbles.

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