Their mother pierced Garrett with a powerful stare. Carly looked from Peter to Garrett and back again, intrigued.
Peter set his fork down, his jaw clenched. He’d love to slug him again. The asshole deserved it and much more.
“What are you thankful for, Peter?” Grandma asked, oblivious to the tension between the two brothers.
Peter looked from Garrett to his father and mother. “Absolutely nothing.” He controlled his anger. He didn’t want to upset Grandma.
“Peter,” his father warned. “We all have something to be thankful for. Try that again.”
Inside he fumed. He was thankful to have Libby, but then Garrett derailed that. All he could think about was his need to talk to her and clear everything up. He wanted Libby with him. Other than that, he only felt anger—anger at his family’s interference, at being stuck in this fake happy holiday celebration, and at the clueless girl sitting next to him, starstruck over his every word like a rabid fan.
All eyes focused on him, including his father’s.
“All right. What am I thankful for? Let’s see. I could say our sold-out tour or our platinum album, but no, that’s pretty shallow.” He gave a pointed look at each of his brothers and his parents. He thought of Libby and how alone she must feel. “I’m thankful to have a family I can be mad at. Even though they make my life a living hell, at least they exist.”
His words were clipped and short. “Because if I didn’t have a family, I’d be all alone in the world. Can you imagine how lonely and difficult life would be if I didn’t have Mom always hovering or Dad caring enough to help us achieve our dreams, or brothers to piss off and fight with?”
Peter set a defiant stare at his parents, driving home the sad reality of Libby’s life. His mother looked down at her plate.
“That’s enough,” his father said. A silent void filled the room as the relatives shared uncomfortable looks. “Why don’t you make yourself useful? There are a lot of dishes on this table that need washing. Perhaps that’ll help clear your head.”
The guests watched the awkward battle. His young cousins looked confused.
“Fine with me.” Peter shoved back from the table, grabbed his dishes, and went to the kitchen.
“I’ll help.” Carly popped up and chased after him.
Peter’s waterlogged hands sank deep into their third round of dishes. Despite his pleas to be left alone, Carly stuck with him and dried every dish. Stacks of clean, dried china and silverware lay as evidence of their work.
“What did I do to make you hate me?” She leaned against the kitchen counter, an irritated expression on her face.
“Huh?” Peter looked up from the dishwater.
“I’ve been trying to talk to you all day, and you treat me like I’m diseased. What’d I ever do to you?” She folded her arms across her chest, the damp dish towel in hand.
“Nothing. Sorry. I’ve just got a lot on my mind.” Heturned back to his sulking and dunked another serving bowl.
“Guys can be such jerks. Steve said you were really nice, but I think he must have been talking about Garrett.”
Peter’s head snapped around, and he eyed her smug expression. “That’s a good one.” He fought the smile that threatened. She had saved him a ton of work by helping out. The least he could do was be nice.
“What’s got you so pissed?” she asked, twirling her dish towel.
Peter glanced at her, an eyebrow raised.
“Hello, you’ve been brooding all day and your little speech in there just proves you’ve got major attitude. You’re mad you got stuck with family all day?”
“I’m stuck with family every day. Today’s better than most. With more people around, it helps distract them.” He rinsed another platter and placed it with the mounting pile of china stacked in the drainer. “You’re falling behind.” He pointed to the waiting dishes.
Carly glared at him, then resumed her chore. After that, Peter finally allowed himself a smile. He found it easier to be nice to Carly. As Peter refilled the sink, Carly placed another plate with the huge pile of clean dishes on the island counter.
“God, there’s a lot of dishes. Your dad is nasty to make you do all this.”
“Yeah, Jett’s real good at doling out punishment.”
“What do you do for fun around here?” Carly asked. “Oh, I don’t know.” With the faucet on, Peter suddenly grabbed the spray hose and turned it on her.
Carly shrieked in surprise and tried to block his water assault with the platter in her hands. He shot the spray across the room as she tried to dodge it. By the time they were done, both were laughing from the water fight and Carly’s skilled towel snapping. He ended up having a good time despite himself.