Page 83 of The Fear of Falling
“I would love a cookie, Mrs. West,” Avery says, taking my hand and squeezing in a way that pulls my attention away from my brothers and down to our interlocked fingers, like there might be some kind of message written there. What is she trying to tell me? “They smell amazing.”
“So what’s wrong with your car?” McKay asks as Mom grabs a plate and starts loading it with fresh cookies.
Avery shrugs. “No idea. It made a funny noise and stopped moving.”
“Haven’t done any research on cars, Benson?” Kimball asks with a chuckle.
I stiffen, looking up and clenching my jaw so hard that I feel like the muscle might snap. Does he really want to start this now?
“Could be a transmission issue,” McKay says, surprising me by continuing the conversation despite Kimball’s perfect setup. “Not a fun one. Or you could get lucky and it’s a simple fix. I can take a look at it tomorrow if you want to save some money, though you’ll have to wait until later in the day because…” He waggles his eyebrows. “Need that baby.”
You’ve got to be kidding me.“I’ll pay to get it towed to a shop,” I growl and silently tell McKay that he had better shut up unlesshe wants me to shut him up myself. I grab my phone, ready to find someone who can get us out of here before Avery runs screaming.
But Avery squeezes my hand again. “If you’re willing,” she says to my brother, completely ignoring his innuendo, “I would love for you to take a look at it. Benson told me you’re a mechanical engineer?”
McKay grins, pleased with himself. “Yep. So your car will be in good hands.”
“He loves a good engine puzzle,” Emily adds with a loving smile toward her husband. In the strangest way, her look settles heavy in my chest and brings my gaze to Avery again. Has she ever looked at me like that?
Have I ever given her a reason to?
“I wish Michaela could be here,” Mom says as she places a plate of cookbook-worthy cookies in between Avery and me, complete with a couple glasses of milk. “Then it would be the whole family.”
Kimball smiles at Mom, looking every bit the perfect oldest son. “She’d be here if she could. You know how exhausted she gets during the first trimester.”
I freeze halfway to grabbing a cookie, gaping at my oldest brother. “She’s pregnant again?” That makes five kids for him, and I feel…something. Horrified? No. He and Michaela are good parents. Nor am I surprised. It’s more like the tightness in my chest is akin to…
Jealousy.
That can’t be right.
Kimball scoffs. “You would have known that if you would get on the family chat once in a while.”
“I’m busy,” I grumble, prompting the whole table to roll their eyes. I’ve said that so many times that they probably don’t expect anything else, but it’s not like it’s a lie. I am always busy, and ifthey knew how little time I spent in my own home, they would think…
I frown, keeping my eyes on the table so I don’t have to endure the stares of my dad and brothers as they wait for me to find a stronger excuse. Whatwouldthey think? Instinct tells me they would think my lifestyle is terrible, but I’ll be the first to admit how much my transient life has been wearing on me lately. Which means my family wouldn’t be wrong.
They’ve been wrong about me my whole life, but if they’re right about settling down…
What else could they be right about?
“This is so good!” Avery says through a bite of cookie, louder than she needs to. She’s pulling attention away from me, and I have never liked her more.
Dad and my brothers chuckle, and the tension of the room dissipates. “She makes the best cookies,” Dad says, reaching for mom’s hand and pulling it to his lips. “One of the many reasons I married her. I always told my boys they needed to listen to their hearts more than their stomachs when choosing a partner, but the stomach can be hard to ignore. Luckily, they all chose well.”
With that, all eyes shift to me again, and for the first time I don’t feel like they’re judging me. They’re looking from me to Avery, likely wondering if she’ll be the one to tame the wayward soul and save me from myself.
If only they knew.
I clear my throat and stand, uncertain how to handle the worried looks everyone is giving me. They usually look frustrated, not sympathetic. “It’s late,” I mutter.
Mom instantly deflates. “Oh. Yes, I suppose you’ll want to—”
“Can we stay here tonight?”
Her jaw drops so low it’s almost painfully comical, and then her lip trembles, and I scramble for something to say thatmight stave off her tears. Guess Avery’s getting a thorough demonstration of how quickly I do everything wrong.
“Oh,” Mom whispers, and her voice grows in strength the more she talks. “Of course. Yes! Your bed is always made up, and it’s plenty big for the both—”
