Page 7 of A Perfect Match
“What are we watching?”I ask anyone who can hear.“It looks like there’s a notable lack of ice.”
Mom sighs.“Football.”
“Oh, right.Football season.”
We’re a hockey family, thanks to Griffin’s early and unnatural talent for the sport, but my brothers are still Midwestern men through and through, which means the occasional tailgate party and plenty of football season kick-offs—until hockey season starts, at least.Now that Griff is playing at the professional level, late September through early spring is usually dominated by hockey.This year will be different, though, because Griff got hurt; he’s officially out on injured reserve until his ACL tear heals fully.
“Anything I can help with in the kitchen?”I twist to see what the status of dinner is.I can see the crockpot plugged in along the far wall, no doubt the source of the tantalizing smells.I pop to my feet just as my brothers all groan in unison.
“Fumble,” Griffin confirms.
“You can get the plates out, honey.”Mom drifts along behind me, heading for a fat loaf of sourdough bread.No doubt she brought it home from the shop.She reaches for a serrated knife and cuts big chunks off, arranging them on a plate.
We always eat first before we start playing euchre.It’s a family tradition that came from my dad’s side of the family that we keep up as an homage to him.It’s also why we keep an hourglass on the mantle full of dad’s ashes, so that he can participate in game night.One of the varied reasons why it’s easier to not have a boyfriend.Explaining the family quirks would be…a lot.
I peek inside the crockpot—pork roast—and grab big plates to stack on the countertop.
Something else happens on the TV, and then Asher finally says, “There’s no hope.I can’t watch anymore.”
“Turn it off,” Dane agrees.
The TV clicks off, and I can feel my brothers’ souls return to the present dimension.They begin filtering into the kitchen.
“Oh hey, Piper.”Jett says.“When’d you get here?”
I side eye him.“You’re not serious right?I said hello specifically to you like ten minutes ago.”
Jett shrugs as he heads to the kitchen sink to wash his hands.“What can I say?I’m focused.”A few grease streaks are still visible on his forearms, left over from his job as a mechanic.
I snort laugh just as Dane pulls me into a too-tight hug.“How’s my baby sister this week?"
I open my mouth to give a breezy response but nothing comes out.Everyone notices my pause.Eyebrows lift.
“Piper?”Mom prompts as she serves big chunks of roast onto plates.
Griffin narrows his eyes at me as he steps up to our mom, reaching for the plate she holds out.“You good?”
The longer I fumble for words, the sharper the attention becomes, like a javelin ready to pop the flimsy balloon carrying my emotions.I hate showing weakness or indecision around my brothers.They prey upon it like it’s fresh meat in a lion’s cage.
My brothers aren’t just relatives who happen to be a little older than me.
After our dad passed away when I was six, they became my caretakers.My protectors.My stand-in fathers, Asher more than the others.But as I’ve grown, they’ve all made it their mission to oversee my life.
“I’m fine,” I say brightly, but it’s too late.Asher is watching me suspiciously now too.This is the downside of beingtoo closeto your family.I can’t even pause for too long around these people.
“Why do I not believe that?”Dane says with a smirk.
“I just got a little visit from Hazel Daly today—”
“Oh my god, don’t tell me the building sold.”My mom sets the ladle down and turns to me gravely.Now I’m actually anxious, because I can watch this conversation gathering steam to form a full-blownsituation, and all I wanted to do was forget about my Uncle Lobster landlord for a few hours.
I struggle to find words to respond, becausehow do moms immediately know?“So you heard it was for sale?”
“The building sold?”Asher asks.
“I heard something about Mrs.Decker the other day—” my mom starts.
“Wait, doesn’t she have like, a few surly sons that were planning on buying it?”Jett carries his plate over to the dining room table.
