Page 116 of When It's Us
Jordan nods, and Tate eyes me from the other side of the table before taking a big bite of his burger.
“Your mom get migraines a lot?”
Tate speaks up after swallowing his food. “Not a lot, but sometimes. When she’s stressed out or when she’s getting sick.”
I nod. “Was she feeling sick today?”
Tate tilts his head. “I don’t think so.”
Jordan shoves a handful of fries into his mouth. “She was talking to our dad in the bedroom, and when she came out her eyes were red. I think she’s sad.”
Tate kicks Jordan under the table, piercing him with a look.
“Ow!” Jordan exclaims and tries to kick his brother back, but misses, smashing his knee on the edge of the table.
“Woah, guys…remember your mom’s asleep,” I say at a complete loss as to how to wrangle two almost six-year-olds. Scratch that. I don’t need to wrangle them; I just need them to stay quiet so their mom can sleep.
“Well, don’t be dumb, then. You shouldn’t tell people Mom’s business, Jordan.”
Jordan sticks out his tongue, covered in food. “Don’t call me dumb, weirdo.”
I hold back the chuckle that wants to break free.
“Don’t call me a weirdo, then.”
My gaze ping-pongs between them. I’ve only been here fifteen minutes and I’m exhausted. How the hell does Ginger keep these two from killing each other?
“Hey, guys, enough, okay? Finish your food.”
Jordan glares over at me, and Tate gives him a triumphant smile. Smug little shit. Gotta admit, the kid is damn mature for hisage. No way my brother’s and I would have been that sharp at their age.
“What’s all that stuff you brought?” Tate asks.
“Some medicine and stuff for your mom.”
I explain about electrolytes and how I know from hiking a lot that it can help to get rid of dehydration and the headaches that sometimes come with it. I also explain how the ice pack can restrict the blood vessels in the head, helping to lessen the headache too. I don’t feel like I need to explain the pills, and when I’m done, Tate looks over at me thoughtfully.
“She likes you, you know?” he says before plopping a spoonful of milkshake on his tongue. Some drips out the corner of his mouth, and his tongue comes out to lick it away.
“Your mom?” I ask, handing him a napkin.
He nods, taking it from me and wiping his mouth. “Yeah. She never talked about a man like she talks about you. She mostly talks about work or things me and Tate like, but she talks about you. A lot,” he says matter-of-factly.
His statement surprises me. They’ve really only been in twenty-four hours. How much could she have talked about me?
Still, I’m curious. “Really?”
“Yep. She said you’re smart and funny, too.”
I crack a grin. Bet she’d never admit that to me.
“Do you like our mom?” Jordan says from my other side.
I shrug, sitting back to cross my ankles. “Yeah, sure. She’s great.”
And it’s not a lie. Ginger is amazing.
“Do you have a girlfriend?” Tate asks, licking some ice cream off his finger, head tilted.
