Page 52 of Stick By Me

“What do you think, Remy?” I drank more beer. I might have to Uber myself out of here later.

“I amnotgoing to comment.” With a tick of his brows, he downed his beer. “Hey, lover boy, can you get me another beer?” He held up his empty can.

Axel, now wearing one of mom’s aprons lined in a tiger print, came jogging toward Remy with a new beer.

“What does that apron say?” Archer squinted his eyes.

“Oh, you’re gonna love this.” After handing Remy his beer, Axel puffed out his chest and traced the words with his finger. “This bitch doesn’t cook.”

“You got that right.” Remy scoffed a laugh.

“Mom, is that really yours?” With a grin quirking my lips, I turned my gaze on her.

She twisted from the stove, holding a spoon, and said, “Yes, it’s mine. Your father got it for me for Mother’s Day.”

I swept my gaze to Dad’s and cocked my head.

He lifted a hand in the air. “What? It’s funny.” He pointed at the television. “See? The Packers scored. It’s now a tie.”

“Oh sh…” Archer slapped his hand over his mouth. “Sorry.”

“You’re allowed to swear, son. God knows one of my sons might have the worst mouth I’ve ever heard.” Dad threw a look at Axel.

Sauntering back to the kitchen, Axel said, “What did you expect? I’m the lead guitarist of a fucking awesome pop-punk band.” With a chortle, he picked up a carving knife and cut into the turkey, resting on the counter next to the stove.

My chest tingled with warmth. Dad really liked Archer. Momdid too, from what I could tell. I chewed the side of my lip. What would they say if I told them the truth about us? Would Dad go through the same struggles for acceptance behind my back, like he did with Axel all those years ago? Would Mom worry about never having any grandkids and not tell me? My relationship with them both would surely change. Axel would no longer bethe gay son.

We ateat the table between the kitchen and the family room, since there was only five of us, and the game was still on. It was close, and as we finished our meal, the game went into overtime.

“I suppose I’ll have to do all the cleanup.” Axel pushed a turkey bone on his plate with his fork, his elbow on the table and his cheek in his hand.

“How about we all watch the end of this game and then we clean up?” I grabbed my glass of red wine and tapped Archer on the shoulder. “Sound good?” He’d kept his gaze glued to the television all through dinner, right along with Dad.

“Yes, then Leo and me can clean up.” He smiled at Mom.

“I’m all for that.” She drank some red wine down and sighed, her gaze running over the table of empty plates.

“Good, then it’s settled.” Dad rose up and walked to the couch, then dropped in.

“Come on.” I grabbed Archer’s hand from the table.

With a hitch of his breath, Archer tore his hand away from mine. “Uh, yeah, follow you.”

Fuck.What was I thinking? I snapped my gaze to Axel, then Remy.

Axel peered at me and twisted his lips, then sat back in his chair, tapping his index finger on the steam of his wine glass.

Say something, Axel. I fixated on my brother. I knew that look on his face. He saw what I did, and he was trying to figure it out. If he said something, I could probably explain it away.

“Axel, want to watch the game with me?” Remy snatched Axel’s hand and kissed the back of it. “I’ll let you sit on my lap.”

“Damn, that’s a big yes.” Axel hopped up and strolled with Remy to the end of the couch, where it became a lounger.

Mom sipped her wine. “Well, go on, I’m going to watch from here.” She picked at a slice of turkey still sitting on the platter.

“Okay.” With Archer following me, I walked to the couch and sat in the corner, Archer falling in beside me. “Who’s got the ball?” I’d lost track of the game with my misstep at the table.

“Vikings.” Archer glanced at Dad. “And they’re inside the twenty-yard line.”

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