Page 10 of The Bro Date
“I wasn’t out partying or anything. I was visiting family.Mom’sfamily. It was Gran and Bo.”
I knew I was going to have to defend myself.
“That doesn’t make it right to ignore your mother this long, Tobias. Keep it up, and you can live at home for the summer.”
“But, Dad?—”
“I won’t hear another word about it,” he says sternly, completely cutting me off before taking a healthy swallow of his drink. “Just make sure it doesn’t happen again.”
“Yes, sir.”
I hate when he makes me feel like I’m still a kid and can’t make my own decisions.
“So, are you boys ready to get back into classes after a week off? It’s important to finish the year strong.”
“Yes, sir,” I answer robotically, glancing over at Shane, who only nods.
“And you’re still happy living in that run-down, old house with three other boys?” He narrows his dark brown eyes at me, almost as clueless as Mom is when it comes to how unhappy I was living here.
Neither of them can fathom why I don’t want to continue living in my childhood bedroom and commute every day.
I mean, yeah, there are a few things that could be fixed when it comes to campus housing, and my room is pretty small, not to mention the bathroom is down the hall withzeroprivacy, but I wanted the full college experience with Shane, and I definitely got it.
“I am,” I answer with more strength and resolve than I thought I had.
There was never any happiness here; I had to make my own as a kid.
With Shane.
My dad hums, not pushing the topic any further, and takes another sip of his whiskey. “Very well.” He picks up the book on the end table and opens it, effectively dismissing us.
He probably only wants me to live here as a buffer between him and Mom, anyway. They don’t get along and never really have, but they won’t get divorced. They care too much about what other people think.
I shift on the couch cushion, feeling slightly uncomfortable with the prolonged silence.
“Dinner’s ready!” Mom hollers from the kitchen, and I’ve never been more thankful to hear her shouting at me.
“You’re excused, then,” Dad murmurs into his glass before he tips it back.
I hurry from the room with Shane right beside me. Heat radiates from my face like burning hot asphalt in the summer, and I glance at Shane, whose jaw is clenched tightly.
Assholes are his trigger, and my dad is top tier.
“Would you like some wine, Shane?” my mother asks, pouring an expensive cabernet into Dad’s glass. “You’re twenty-one, right?”
Her innocent-sounding question is likely some sort of test, or maybe an insult. She damn well knows he’s two years older than me.
“No, thank you,” Shane replies calmly and politely.
She narrows cynical amber eyes at him, but before she can launch more questions, I interrupt with a dumbass joke. “I’ll have some, Mom.”
Crinkling her brow in distaste, she shakes her head like she’s disappointed in me and serves everyone dinner.
Whatever.
Mom takes her spot at the head of the table, with my father at the other end. “Will you say grace, Matthew?”
“Of course, honey.” My dad bows his head, and I honestly tune him out until I hear anAmen, and we all dig in.
