Page 39 of Synced to Us

What is it with this family?

“Dee, honey? Did we lose you?” May asks.

“Oh.” I come back to the present standing in the middle of the kitchen, with May, Brad, and Lucy sitting at the table and blinking at me expectantly. The twins are there, too, busy chowing down on their waffles, pulled to sticky pieces and mostly spread around the table.

“Yes. Sorry.” I find a place near Lucy.

She smiles at me as I sit down, and I’m instantly comforted by her presence, especially compared to Wyn’s ire outside.

Bringing you here was a mistake.

“How many would you like, dear?”

At May’s second prompting, I snap out of it. I’ve made my choice. I’m sitting down instead of packing my bags, at least temporarily. I’ll deal with Wyn’s attitude about it later. “Two, please. I’m starving after that epic run.”

“Wasn’t it?” Lucy joins in. “And that hill. Holy moly, I forgot about that hill right before the high school.” Lucy lays a hand on my forearm. “I’m so glad you strapped in the girls, because that climb—”

“Is something you should be doing daily, babe.”

Lucy’s fingers contract. “Well, honey, I’ve only just started jogging. I don’t want to overdo it, and that hill is pretty—”

“Pretty necessary to save that ass of yours.” Brad chomps down on a waffle, foregoing a fork and lifting it to his mouth with his hands. “Don’t you remember how it was when we were teenagers? So pert. So peachy-keen.”

“Brad,” Lucy says softly. “The kids.”

“I like peaches!” Daisy declares.

“Apples are better,” Scout argues.

“Well, your momma used to fill out apple-bottom jeans just fine, too,” Brad drawls around the macerated food in his mouth.

My lips twist in silent disgust.

“Well.” May clears her throat at the same time she passes me a plate. “It’s about time we dig in, don’t you all agree?”

I pause with my fork hanging over my breakfast. I’m trying to keep it reined in. Really, I am, but it’s like none of the women around here want to speak up against Brad. “You know, Wyn could use some help out there.”

Brad stops chewing. His eyes stall on mine.

“With the firewood,” I clarify, refusing to wither under his stare like I bet he expects me to. “He’s out back cutting up enough wood to last your family through the winter. I’m sure he could use some fine, strong arms like yours to help him out.”

The sarcasm goes over his head. “Huh. I guess you didn’t hear me clearly enough last night.” Brad leans back in his chair. “That’s okay, doll. You’re new here. Winnie may be considered the brawn of family that all the females fawn over, but I’ve always been the brains, and I’ll take my smarts over big, sweaty admiration any day. He’s better off chopping the wood, as I’m sure his failed career tells you.”

I feign confusion by furrowing my brows and looking to the ceiling. “You mean, the career where he made millions of dollars, collected legions of fans, and traveled the entire world?”

“Then lost it all, like the dumb bag of muscles he is.”

“From what I understand, a lot of it went into your pockets.”

The entire table quiets. Clinking of silverware stops. Sensing the change, even the twins halt their sword fight with their forks.

“This isn’t really conversation for the breakfast table,” May says. She reaches for her glass of orange juice filled to the brim with ice and takes a few, solid gulps.

“I agree,” Lucy says. She swivels to me, blocking out her husband, ensuring I note her widened eyes and the plea to stop in them.

It’s only because of Lucy that I stand down. “I overstepped. It’s none of my concern.”

“Damn straight you did,” Brad snaps, but I ignore him and nod a sincere apology at Lucy instead.

---