Page 30 of The Grumpy Side of Paradise

“Do you mind taking the back?” he asks and opens the back door for me.

“I get carsick.”

“Nope,” I answer, even though I get a little carsick too.

Zach helps me climb into the back seat. Adam, apparently, likes his tires big. It’s not a short step from the ground to the running board.

“I turned on the seat heaters back there for you,” Adam says as I sit. Instead of cold leather, I’m met by a warm seat.

“Thank you.” I pull the seatbelt across my shoulder, and Zach shuts the door with a heavy slam that elicits a glare from Adam. “And thank you for the winter gear,” I quickly add to disrupt the fight that’s waiting to break out. “They fit perfectly. I don’t know how you conjured that kind of magic.”

“Britta helped,” he mumbles.

“Between her and our mom, they probably have every size in everything you could ever need for winter around here.” Zach shoots me a smile over his shoulder.

“They don’t mind loaning me their stuff?” I ask.

Adam shakes his head and pulls onto the road.

“Mom doesn’t need it. She doesn’t go many places anymore,” Zach says quietly. Adam’s shoulders slump.

“How come?” I ask carefully.

“She’s got early onset dementia,” Zach answers, and Adam’s shoulders tense again. “She’s not in great shape. That’s why all of us have come back or stayed close over the past year or so. To help Dad with her and the businesses. We’ve all given up jobs other places to be here with her.”

“I’m so sorry to hear that,” I say. Adam’s eyes meet mine in the rearview mirror for half a second, and I wonder if his mom’s condition is the only reason for the sadness there. “Sounds like you’re a pretty tight family for everyone to be here to help.”

“That’s what family is all about. Working together, making sacrifices, and letting things go.” Zach slaps a hand on Adam’s shoulder. “Right, little brother?”

“Only by ten minutes.” Adam shrugs off Zach’s hand and turns down a dirt road. “I always planned on coming back and staying. I was always going to be here for Mom and Dad, running things the way they always have.”

Zach shifts in his seat to face the front with his hands on his knees. “Yeah, well, things can’t stay the same forever. No change means no growth, which means everything dies. But you’re too stubborn to see that.”

“Change doesn’t mean you mow everything down and start new.” The up and down motion of driving over the rocky road amplifies the gruffness in Adam’s voice.

“That’s not what I’m trying to do.” The tension in Zach’s voice increases to meet Adam’s.

“Really? Because that’s what you did with Dakota. Told her she should go to make room for someone new in my life, right? Like I wanted someone new.” As Adam’s temper rises, so does his speed, and I double check my seatbelt to make sure it’s secure. But also,who’s Dakota?

Unless...

I remember Georgia talking about her friend Dakota who spent summers in Paradise. Is this the same Dakota? How many Dakotas could there be? Other than North and South, obviously.

“I did tell her that,” Zach continues. “But you know that’s not how it went down. Maybe I could have done it better, and I get you need someone to blame for your breakup, but that person should be Dakota.” He’s full-on yelling. I have never been so uncomfortable in my life, even though I doubt either of them remembers I’m here. “She was going to leave you and Paradise, no matter what. All I did was tell her it was better to do it before you were married.”

Adam loses it at that, yelling things about how he could have talked her out of it, which Zach insists he couldn’t. I grab the emergency handle as Adam skids around a curve and calculate how hurt I would get if I jumped out. There’s plenty of sagebrush to catch me, but also plenty of rocks. So, probably not the best escape route.

My only other option is to throw up, which is becoming a real possibility with each turn Adam takes. “Can you maybe slow down a little?”

My words get swallowed by their shouting.

I don’t enjoy yelling. My family’s method for dealing with disagreements is to justnot. Problems will go away on their own. Eventually.

“She didn’t want to be here!” Zach yells. “You’re the only one who couldn’t see that.”

“I would have gone back to New York with her if I’d known it was that important, but you sent her away before I had the chance.” Adam’s voice is loud, but unsure. That’s worse than the yelling. The pain inside of it. And I really can’t take it anymore.

I take the wool mittens from my coat pocket and press them to my ears, but I can still hear the fighting. The only difference is now it’s muffled and sounds more like barking than words. So. Much. Barking.

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