Page 7 of Someone to Have
I might have spent my time during those college hockey games with my nose in a book, but I heard things. My mom would talk to the other mothers in hushed tones about Eric’s wild antics and lack of parental guidance.
Toby has cleaned up his act from the rowdy partying of his youth. He’s a dedicated firefighter and coaches the high school hockey team. Still, I worry. After Mom died, we each managed the grief in our own way, but he went off the rails for a few months with reckless behavior and questionable choices. I don’t like to think that some wild friend from his past—especially a manwhore with a heart—is going to tempt him into trouble again.
“You might have to give my brother a ride home,” I say as I turn back to Avah and Molly.
“You’re going to try out for the winter play at the community theater?” Molly repeats back slowly, ignoring my awkward attempt to change the subject.
“You couldn’t handle announcing at the high school talent show,” Avah reminds me.
“I could have if it wasn’t for that peppermint.”
“So you’re going to insist on a mint moratorium?” Molly asks.
“I won’t need to.” I grab my purse, reach inside, and pull out a small bag of mints. “I’ve been eating a few every day to desensitize myself to the trigger. I found that tip online.”
“And if it’s on the internet, it must work.” Avah shakes her head.
I know they don’t believe in me. Heck, I’m not sureIbelieve in me. In the face of their doubt and my brother’s gentle teasing about all the ways I’m awkward, it would be so easy to pull out and forget all of it.
“I can do this.” I hope I sound more confident than I feel. “I refuse to be the same scaredy wimp I’ve always been. You want me to take action, and I’m going to. Sloane asked us to do this bucket list challenge for a reason, and I volunteered for a reason. I want to get over my…”
“Glossophobia,” Avah supplies.
When Molly gives her a strange look, Avah shrugs. “It’s a fear of public speaking.”
I nod.
“We do believe in you.” Molly reaches across the table to grab my hand once more.
I’m not sure if she means it, but I’ll take all the words of encouragement I can get. I turn to Avah, expecting a snarky response, but she places her hand on Molly’s.
“Wefuckingbelieve in you. You’ve got this, Tay. And we’ll be here to kick your ass if you think about chickening out.”
Molly chokes out a laugh. “Great pep talk, Avs.”
“It’s a gift,” our friend replies.
I would tell her I’m going to hold her to the promise, but I already know she’s serious, and so am I. Time to get this bucket list challenge checked off my life list. For Sloane. And more importantly, for me.
3
ERIC
On my backin the crawl space of a farmhouse built in the early nineteen hundreds is not the ideal place to be when my phone rings. My first inclination is to ignore it. Most of the calls I get these days are spam anyway.
Except I’ve given the main number of the high school its own ringtone—”Living on a Prayer.” It’s an old-school classic, but the sentiment works for me. I can’t imagine why the high school would be calling in the middle of the day unless my nephew is in trouble.
I’d like to tell you I wouldn’t expect Rhett to have a run-in with the rules, but that’s a lie—and leans a little too hard into wishful thinking. However, this is his third day at Skylark High School. How much hot water can a kid end up in on day three?
I guess I’m about to find out.
I scramble to pull the phone out of the breast pocket of my canvas jacket, answering it on the fourth ring.
“Mr. Anderson?” a polite female voice asks.
“Call me Eric,” I say automatically. I’ve never been comfortable being Mr. Anderson.
“This is Suzanne Kenkel, one of the assistant principals at the high school. I’m calling about your nephew.”
