Page 9 of Aydin

“Nuke, get down!” Mom yelled. The dog was a golden retriever, and they named him after my nickname in the navy, Aydin “Nuke” Reeve. It was a shock when I got home from my second tour, and he jumped all over me like he was doing now, and we completely spoiled him.

“Good boy, Nuke.” I ran a hand across his head and patted his cheek.

I whistled, and he followed me inside the house.

“He’s getting big,” I said, leaning down to hug my mom.

“Because your father doesn’t know how to say no,” Mom hissed and shut the door behind me. She nudged Nuke to sit down, and he followed me to the kitchen instead. That was another drawback; they complained even though he was their dog, Nuke only listened to me most of the time.

“How was work today?” Mom probed, and I opened the fridge to grab a beer and stood next to the table to watch her prepare a salad.

“Busy.”

She stopped pouring the pasta in the draining bowl and turned toward me. Rebecca Reeve was tougher than Dad, and I could never get away with anything. Dad was soft toward us. We could stay up late on school nights or go to parties, but Mom would be the one to discipline us if we got out of hand.

“Did you finally hire someone?”

“Someone.” I picked up a piece of cucumber she cut up and tossed it in my mouth.

Mom glanced up at me.

“What does that mean?”

“Mom!” Wesley’s loud voice echoed through the house.

Wesley stepped in the kitchen holding a bag of groceries and dropped them on the table.

“If you were here early, you should have picked this stuff up,” Wesley argued, and I grinned. Mom would often make one of us grab last-minute items from the store if we got to the house first. Wesley looked annoyed, and I wanted to laugh, but that would cause Wesley to try to fight me.

“Sorry, little bro. You had it today.”

“Shut up,” Wesley mumbled, and Mom popped him on the hand with a wooden spoon.

“Don’t be rude, Wesley.”

He rubbed the sore hand, as Mom turned back around, and he flipped me off. I burst into laughter.

“What are you cooking for dinner?” Wesley asked, leaning over her shoulder. Dad was about six-one, short, brown hair, and was still muscular in shape in his late fifties, while Mom was the shortest in the family. She was about five-five, small but feisty, and I took my temper from her, along with the protectiveness from my father.

“Wash your hands. Dinner will be ready soon,” Mom told us.

I went to sit next to my brother, removed my cell from my pocket, and laid it on the table, when the door opened and closed again.

“Aydin, you parked in my spot!” Josiah, the youngest of the group, yelled.

“Josiah, stop that yelling,” Mom fussed, wiping her hands. Josiah leaned over to kiss her cheek and popped Wesley on the back of the head. I shook hands with him before he opened the fridge and grabbed a beer to sit across from me.

“Where’s Dad?” Josiah questioned. Dad came in the kitchen and groped Mom from behind and kissed her cheek.

“Ugh, can you two do that somewhere else?” Wesley hissed.

“Shut up!” Mom shouted, and we all laughed at her response.

“Josiah, did you pull your car up?” Cole Reeve lifted the plate of stuffed peppers from the stove and placed them on the table.

Josiah scooped some of the salad and peppers, then filled his glass with beer.

“Even though Aydin stole my spot,” Josiah teased. I chuckled, scanning my eyes down at my phone as Addison’s name ran across. I ignored the call and focused on my food when it rang again.

---