Page 7 of Found By You
Dylan shrugged. “Eliza’s in town?”
We could tell he was lying.
A huge grin swept over his face. “Well, maybe I’ll have to go see her, too.”
We all laughed.
Noah strolled off to start hitting a nearby punching bag. “Okay, we got another Armstrong brother romance brewing.”
“That’s right, little Eliza Burke is back in town.” I made obnoxious kissing noises as we moved to a punching bag.
Dylan grinned and quickly put on his gloves. “Hey, maybe I’d like to be doing that.”
I laughed and grabbed the punching bag between us. “You go first.”
He started doing some uppercuts.
“So what else is going on?”
“It’s my class reunion tomorrow night. They did it on a Friday because so many people had commitments for the football game in Denver this Saturday.”
“Oh, so that’s why Eliza is in town?”
Dylan grinned. “I don’t know why you all keep talking about Eliza.”
I laughed.
Dylan started into a combination routine.
I focused on holding the bag tighter.
“I forgot about the class reunion,” Damon commented, doing his own punch routine next to us on a different bag. “I guess weneed some security at the high school tomorrow.” He looked at me.
I shrugged, the smell of leather from the gloves filling my nostrils. “Not my problem. Today is my day off.” I punched the bag again.
“But not tomorrow.”
“Then deal with me tomorrow. Because today, I’m off.” I needed to be off today. I so needed this day off.
“Fine,” Damon said, “Maybe tomorrow you won’t have attitude.”
I grunted. “Don’t plan on it.”
Dylan laughed.
Damon scowled at both of us.
I hesitated, then nodded to Dylan. “My turn, hold it tight, I need to get some aggression out.”
Later that afternoon, I went to my parents’ and helped my mother in the garden.
It was something my siblings and I all took turns with.
My mother was a ferocious gardener, if that was even the right way to put it, and she was intense enough about it that we had to divvy up the time to help her. Her meticulous attention to every plant was evident in the perfectly spaced rows and weed-free beds.
Luckily, since Dylan was home, he was helping right alongside me.
The steady rhythm of our weeding was interrupted when my father came out of the house, holding a newspaper. He plunked down on a weathered cedar chair next to the garden.
