Page 15 of Busted Dreams

As soon as he opened the door, the succulent scent of pepperoni and sausage pizza drifted around the room. My mouth watered, even though I’d already had a giant pretzel with cheese at the arena. I could count on my fingers the number of times Mother Dearest had allowed us to have pizza, sticking firm to her idea that a good wife cooked a nutritious meal as often as possible. So it had become something of a treat when I had it. Which had been often with this group of guys.

“All right. Come and get it,” Thatcher said as he dropped the pizzas on the table, then pulled plates from his cabinet.

“Want me to grab beers for you guys?” Trinity shot out of her chair.

“No.” Thatcher’s lips pressed into a firm line. “Tomorrow, I’m clearing out all the beer and alcohol from the apartment.” He turned his back on Trinity as he scooped two slices onto a plate and handed it to me.

“What?” Her voice was belligerent, her body language indignant. “Why?”

“Let’s have this conversation after everyone goes home.”

“Let’s not. Your friends are here more than I am, so you might as well include them in the family conversation.” She propped her hand on her hip, the plate casting shadows from the bright florescent lights overhead.

“I think that’s our cue to go,” Jonah mumbled to Beck, who nodded his agreement.

“No, stay. The pizza literally just got here.” Thatcher sent his sister a warning look. “Especially since we’re celebrating Rhys’ killer win tonight.”

A silence stretched out between us as we waited to see if this tiff was going to dissipate or blow up in Thatcher’s face.

“I want to know why you want to remove all the alcohol. You’ve always kept at least beer here, and you’ve never been shy about letting me share one with you.”

Rubbing the crease between his eyebrows, Thatcher sighed and handed a plate holding three slices to Rhys.

“Because Dad just died. I know you’ve been drinking up all the alcohol when I’m not here. There was triple the amount here when you officially moved in a week ago than what I counted this morning. It would have taken meandmy friends a month to drink that much.”

“Dad’s funeral was last Tuesday, Thatch. My life has been turned upside down. I’m allowed to act out a little bit, don’t you think?” She braced her hands on the worn and scratched wooden table.

“Our dad was a raging alcoholic. That’s not the way you should be acting out. And I’m your sole guardian now.” He finally turned to face her.

I offered one of my slices to Beck then Jonah, because it was apparent no one else was going to get into the kitchen for a while. They both declined, and I slid the plate onto the coffee table. It felt wrong to eat and stare at them while they argued.

“So what, you think you’re going be my dad now? I never needed him before, and I sure as hell don’t need you now. You’re a place to crash, not a parental figure.”

I would have missed the subtle breath Thatcher inhaled if I wasn’t focused on his face, watching for any sign of hurt.

“Is that what I am? After all these years trying my best to take care of you when I knew he wasn’t, I’m just a place to crash?” A thread of pain stretched through his voice.

Her face twisted up, and she scrubbed a hand down her face. “I don’t mean it like that. I love you and you’re the best brother I could have asked for, but I don’t need a parent. You didn’t have any, and you turned out just fine.”

“I’m not trying to be your parent, but I won’t enable you if I think there’s a problem.”

Trinity barked out a laugh. “It’s not enabling. I don’t have a problem. I gave some of the alcohol to friends. Does that make you feel better?”

“No, Trinity, it doesn’t.”

“Whatever.” She picked up a slice of pizza and flounced back over to her chair like she was done with the conversation.

Thatcher finished passing out plates and waters, then took his own seat.

For the next hour, we ate in silence and watched TV without actually paying attention to what was playing. The whole time, I just sat there wondering what the hell I had just witnessed.

Then feeling guilty for witnessing it at all.

* * *

“Where do you want me?”Beck spread his arms, smirking devilishly.

I looked around, studying what I had to work with. I’d told him to meet me at the mechanic shop, because he was at home here and it showed a bit of who he was, making him a bit more relatable.

---