Page 22 of Win Some Love Some
“These guys do not give up,” I muttered.
“Do you know them?”
“If you weren’t ignoring my calls and texts I would have told you.”
“Told me what?”
I sighed. “I have brothers.”
4
Nora
“Hello!” I called as soon as I opened the front door.
“In the kitchen, honey!”
I hung my denim coat on the coat rack next to the door and made my way through the house, following the sound of my mother’s voice.
“Hey, Nora, help me with my homework.” I looked over at Will and Bethany who were sitting together at the kitchen table and not killing each other, which was breaking news in the Barnes household.
“I said I would help you,” Bethany said. Her hair was in four ponytails. Quite a look.
“I’m not taking help from someone younger,” Will protested.
“I know math better.”
“You think you knoweverythingbetter.” He made a face at her.
“Mom, Will’s making a face at me,” Bethany exclaimed.
“Will, stop making faces at your sister,” Vanessa said from where she was stirring something in a pot over the stove. Which was very unlike her.
“She’s such a know-it-all!Know-it-all.”
“It’s only because I know it all,” Bethany insisted.
“Hey, stop fighting,” I told them. “It hurts my heart. Will, give me a second and I’ll help you with your math. Beth, you don’t know itall. You can’t yet, which is why you have to keep studying.”
They settled down almost immediately.
My mother called it older sister mojo, that only I had. Which, considering I was an older sister of five siblings, probably made sense.
I stepped up beside Mom at the stove and kissed her cheek. She wore jeans and a sweatshirt but still looked like a beauty queen. Mom said it was skin care and posture, but I think it was her particular magic.
“What are you doing?” I asked her.
“I’m making homemade peach jam,” she said, eying the pot in front of her warily.
My mom was not a make homemade peach jam kind of mom. She was more of a - buy jars of jam from the farmer’s market to support local businesses – mom.
“I saw it on TikTok and thought it looked so homey.” She gasped when she realized what she said. “Oh honey, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-”
I held up my hand to cut her off. “Mom, it’s okay. You can say TikTok. I’m not going to break down into hysterics.”
Mom glanced at me over her shoulder, her expression difficult to read, before she returned to the jam I could already smell was burning. But I wasn’t here to talk about jam. Or TikTok.
“Why didn’t anyone tell me that Nick had brothers? Famous hockey-playing brothers?”
