Page 75 of In a Pinch

Swinging the door open, my eyes blink, and then blink again. What the fuck? Maybe I’m still sleeping and this is just a terrible dream.

“Good morning, little brother,” Cal sits in front of my door, wearing a long-sleeve T-shirt and jeans. The stubble on his face peeks through.

I rub my eyes, trying to shake off the fog. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, your girlfriend and my fiancée kicked me out of the house when I made too much noise in the kitchen this morning. Based on the state Addie was in, I figured now would be a good time to come check on you. I brought bagels and coffee.” He holds up a drink carrier and a brown paper sack.

“Fine. Give me that.” I swipe the coffee from him. If we’re holding full conversations on this little of sleep, I’ll need to be caffeinated. “How did you even know where I live?” None of my family has been by this apartment. A thought crosses my mind. I swear, if Addie told him where I live, I’m going to lose my shit.

“What, you think I haven’t kept tabs on you? You may not want me around, but I still like to make sure you’re doing all right. Speaking of, how are you holding up? Addie was still puffy-eyed when I left this morning.” He follows me into my apartment and closes the door behind him.

That means she must have gone straight to Isla. I hate how we left things last night. My chest constricts, but knowing she’s as miserable as I am brings me a bit of solace.

“That’s a little creepy you’re keeping tabs, but I’m fine.” Walking to the kitchen counter, I set the carrier of coffees down and pull one out. I prop myself against the counter to face him.

Cal is clearly not buying my story. “Yeah, the bags under your eyes are really helping sell that story.” His tone turns from sarcastic to inquisitive. “What happened?”

Not wanting to relive this or do this with him while being sleep-deprived, I wave him off with my free hand. “I’m sure she’s already told you.”

Cal puts down the bag of bagels on the counter. Guess he isn’t going anywhere. “Yeah, but I want to hear what you’re going through.”

My lack of sleep gets the better of me and I lash out. “It’s about ten years too late for you to start giving a shit about what I’m going through.”

He sighs, his hands resting against the edge of the countertop. His head drops between his shoulders. “I genuinely don’t understand why you hate me so much. What did I do to you?”

I push myself off the counter, wanting some distance. “It’s not what you did to me; it’s what you didn’t do. You and Liv were the apples of Dad’s eye, while I was the black sheep and part-time emotional punching bag for him.” Holding up my finger, I add on, “Never once did you stand up for me when he shit all over my choices.”

Cal sighs and shakes his head. Turning to face me, he says, “Sam, I can promise you, there is no golden anything in Dad’s eyes. He’s still hard on me and I’m just now learning how to stand up to him for myself.”

Rolling my eyes at his story, I say, “Bullshit. Like Dad’s ever said anything to you for you to have to fight back.”

“You’re right. He disrespected the woman that is going to be my wife, and that was the moment I realized I had to square up to him or it would always be like this.”

My eyes widen in surprise. I cool my features back down into neutrality because I’m sure that played out good for him.

“And, let me guess, he respected you for it? When I do it, all he sees is a child throwing a tantrum.” Crossing my arms, I shift uncomfortably on my feet. Of all the days we choose to do this, it has to be one where I’m already feeling like shit.

“You know what, Sam? Enough of this shit.” He holds up his hand and his tone steels. “Dad’s a dick to all of us. And I’m really, really sorry that I wasn’t the brother you needed me to be. Butwe all had our struggles with him.” He motions to his chest. “To this day, the pressure Dad puts on me feels so fucking heavy that I can’t breathe. The only reason he’s backed off is because Mom called him out on his shit. You’re not innocent, either. You completely blew off Liv’s wedding. What the fuck was that about?”

I blink at him, and I can see it now—the stress etched across his face. He hides it well, the weight of trying to be Dad’s perfect son. There’s a slow realization that I might actually be the asshole in this situation. Fuck me.

Uncrossing my arms, I let them and my defenses drop. I roll my neck because this feeling is repulsive. “I didn’t want to skip Liv’s wedding, but I couldn’t afford two weeks in Hawaii. I couldn’t even afford my life here, for that matter.”

Cal’s features drop and his tone softens. “Why didn’t you say something?”

Jerking my head back and throwing my arms in the air, I spit out, “What, go to Dad, who already thinks my career is a fucking joke because it wasn’t paying six-figures right out of school? I would literally rather play in rush hour traffic than ask that asshole for shit.”

He shakes his head and holds out his hands, motioning to himself. “Not Dad, Sam. Me. I would have helped you. I don’t give a shit what you do for a living. If you’re happy, then great. That’s what matters. Plus, from what you’ve told me, you’re kicking ass.”

He pats my arm and then drops it. “I know you are the youngest head chef that Flambé has ever had. You’re great at what you do. That was always you and Mom’s thing, and I’m glad she got someone with the same passions as her. She misses you, too, you know.” A small, polite smile finds his lips.

The fact that he’s looked into it enough to know that I’m the youngest head chef means more to me than he’ll ever know. Allof this sends my brain into overdrive. I miss Mom, too. I miss Sundays in the kitchen, cooking up family dinner. Not that I’d tell him, but there are times I’ve missed the man in front of me.

I’ve wanted this for years. To feel like a part of my family and not just a stain to the Reynolds’s family business reputation. Where the fuck do we go from here?

Breaking the staring contest I’m having with the floor, I look up at Cal. “Thank you. That means a lot.”

“I’m sorry, Sam. I should have tried harder. I’m not trying to excuse my actions, but we are all going through things no one knows about. Just because we carry it well, doesn’t make it a light load. Dad is a lot. And he is trying to get better. I think he knows he’s going to end up in that big, old house all alone if he doesn’t figure it out.”

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