Page 18 of Hold You Close
“Well, you’re not the boss!” He grabs it back. “I’m older, so I get to decide. Brat!”
My fucking head is going to explode. All they do is fight. How the hell did Sabrina not blow her eardrums out? Listening to these two is giving me a migraine. Either I’ve blocked out this part of my childhood or Sabrina and I got along better.
It’s been an hour since my parents left. They ate pizza with us, kissed the kids, smiled at me, and that was it. Tomorrow they head back to Florida. My father has some kind of meeting and since I told them I didn’t need their help, they’re going. I’m a goddamn fool.
I’m not going to survive one night from the looks of it.
My perfect house is a mess. Shit all over the place from the kids tossing their crap. This isn’t even half of their stuff, either. This was just a bag each of clothes and their must-haves. The rest comes with the movers.
Mom planned to go through the house, sell or get rid of anything we didn’t need, but since I assured her she didn’t have to stick around because I’m a man and could handle it, I’m fucked.
“You’re so stupid!”
“And you’re a bitch!” Chris yells.
That’s it.
“Guys, guys!” I walk into what was once my very quiet family room and stand in front of the television. “You.” I point to Chris. “Don’t you ever call her a bitch or you won’t like what happens.” Then I turn to Morgan. “And you, don’t call him stupid.”
“Sorry, Uncle Ian,” Chris says.
“Yeah,” Morgan sighs. “Sorry.”
Now I feel like an asshole. I’ve never wanted to be a disciplinarian, but shit, I have to be now. “There are more than ten places to watch a movie in this house. Why don’t you go downstairs, and you go up to your room, and I’ll take back this one?”
“I don’t like being upstairs alone,” Morgan admits.
“And you have a bigger screen up here,” Chris says with a shrug.
Typical man. “No shit, that’s why I watch the games in here.” I smirk and point for them to vacate. “Go. Figure it out.”
They get to their feet, both grumbling under their breath, and I stand tall as they leave the room.
There. I did it. I parented or adulted or some shit. Look at me being all grown up and whatnot. My eyes dart out to the back, to where London would be.
Take that! I can do this without your damn help!I mentally yell at her, like the mature adult I am while pointing my finger and puffing out my chest.
“Uncle Ian,” Morgan says as I’m posturing at the window, thankful that London definitely can’t see in.
I spin around. “What’s up? I thought you went upstairs.”
“What are you doing?” she asks, trying to hold back her laugh.
“I’m . . . looking out the window.”
“Right. Is Aunt London out on the deck?”
“I don’t know.”
She peers around me. “Can’t you see?”
I glare at who was once my favorite niece. “I wasn’t looking for her.”
“Uh huh.” Morgan snorts. “Do you like her or something?”
What is with the twenty questions? I cross my arms over my chest. “Do you like rabid animals?”
She tilts her head. “Umm, no. Does anyone?”
