Page 96 of Teach Me How

“Which one do you think it is for Skyler?”

He meets my gaze. “I’m not sure it matters either way to him. You know him, it’s duty first. He’s like the freaking mafia. All about the family.”

“Yeah. I know what he’s like.” I shuffle the takeout menus, sliding a Thai menu in front of Mitch. “And that’s why I’m here and he’s there.”

It’s girl versus the century old family heritage.

And blood wins every time.

64.

Skyler

We sit at my mom’s dining room table, listening to the grandfather clock ticking in the hall. It’s usually just white noise, the soundtrack to my parent’s home.

Today, it feels oppressive.

Mom nervously drums her fingers on the tabletop. I give her hand a reassuring pat before pulling my gaze away. Ever since Mitch compared her to Reese, I can’t unsee it. She’s small and sweet and approachable.

Just like Reese.

I glance at Terry, who looks completely unruffled by this breech of “Nebraska Nice” etiquette.

She looks sleek and cosmopolitan in a black sweater and tailored pants. Her boots have ice pick heels. Heels like that are wildly impractical out here.

I find myself wondering if she could adjust.

Mom shoots me an apologetic smile. She asked dad to come in to meet my ‘friend’ almost an hour ago, but he hasn’t stepped foot inside.

He’s like that. Work always takes priority. Growing up, this was just a fact of life. Vacations revolved around it, or simply didn’t happen. Mitch has a summer birthday, which meant we ate birthday cake and opened presents in the back of a truck in the middle of a cornfield.

But considering this is the first woman I’ve ever introduced to them, I can’t help but be personally offended. As a kid, I had a grudging respect for my dad’s work ethic. But as a grownup, I have a different perspective.

It’s rude.

Compulsive behavior. Lord knows what he’s overcompensating for. Probably guilt over his brother and father, but I didn’t get my degree in psychology. I don’t carewhyhe’s ignoring Terry. I just know that it’s rude. We all travel through this world with our own burdens. It’s not an excuse to treat other people badly.

I’m annoyed, but doing my best to hide it.

The front door swings open, but I know from the gait of those boots clomping on the floor it’s not dad.

“Aunt Lisa? You home? Just passing through. Uncle Brad said to grab the first aid kit from the kitchen.” Bo walks through the dining room, doing a double take when he sees the three of us sitting there.

Mom is on her feet, hurrying towards him. “Why do you need the first aid kit?”

Bo’s cradling his hand, trying to keep blood from dripping on the floor. “Had a little accident.”

I snort. Bo’s a klutz. If his hand had nine lives, it’d be dead.

Mom pulls out a chair and reaches up to press on his shoulder. “Sit.”

He sits, but glances at the door like he’d rather be anywhere else.

I gesture at him. “This is my cousin, Bo.” Bo nods gamely. I lock gazes with her. “And this is Terry. My… coworker.”_

“Nice to meet you, Bo.” Terry grins. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

There’s a tenor to her voice that suggests she’s heard some of the worst stories. Which she has.

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