Page 69 of Embody

I jump at least an inch off the floor with a terrified squeak and haul my ass right back around the corner behind the wall.

“I barely heard you, Caveman. Why the whispering?” Mrs. Kendrick deadpans as she joins her family in the kitchen.

I kinda love her.

“Is a ‘grip rub’ or ‘clip glove’ anything Brynn would need for softball?” he asks in that chillingly calm way only he can, raising the hairs on my arms even with me way over here.

“No,” she snickers. “Neither of those are a thing in any sport,orthe English language. Why?”

I don’t know how, even scarier to me than Mr. Kendrick’s outburst, but I can somehow, over all the ruckus, pick up the sound of Jefferson’s muffled laughter—as crisp and clear as if he were standing right beside me. Not gonna lie, that strong of a connection, this early in our “us,” freaks me the hell out.

“Thought I’d check, foolishly holding out hope that I was losingmy hearingbeforelosing my shit,” the man of the house grumbles. “Which means, I did, in fact, just overhear your daughter say she might go to a strip club.”

“Mydaughter, you say?”

“Yes, that one.” I can only assume he’s pointing at Brynn. “Unless of course, she choosesthe raveinstead.”

“Brynn,” her mom gasps, “seriously honey, what is wrong with you today? How many fingers am I holding up?”

“Four,” Brynn answers patronizingly, “and I was only kidding, trying to piss JT off for Bellamy-blocking me.”

“Poor girl, what she must think of this family. Where is she? Running for the hills?” Mrs. Kendrick asks.

“Nope. She’s over there, back to hiding behind the wall,” Jefferson rats me out again with a chuckle. “Bellamy, come out, come out, wherever you are,” he sing-songs.

I slowly start to emerge, just in time for Mr. Kendrick to catch my gaze and give me an apologetic frown. “I’m sorry my heathen offspring have traumatized you into hiding. I was sure we got them back from the wolves in time to raise them right. Seems I was wrong. If you choose to seek counseling, please, send me the bill. Which I’ll pay out of their trust funds. Laney,” he turns to her, “going to my office. Ha-”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” she cuts him off, “handle my children.”

He leans in and kisses her like nobody’s watching, then pulls back with a with a smile I dare not inappropriately think of words to describe. “I’ll take you out to dinner tonight. Wear the ‘no need for imagination’ dress I like. You know the one.”

“Daddy-”

“Zip it,” he sternly shuts Brynn up. “Can’t play the ‘fragile ears’ card now,Miss Strip Club.”

Out he walks and frozen I stand, tucked as far in the corner as I can get while still being in the kitchen, debating his offer for free counseling while I wait for whatever’s coming next.

 

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