Page 16 of Told You So
“Fine, whatever. I’m just the big sister. Don’t mind me, like always.” When Mac’s eyes meet mine, she shakes her head. “They only want my opinion when it’s what they want to hear.”
“Typical,” I say and hold up her pint glass. “To take the edge off.”
“Perfect,” she says. “I need a little sanity in my life.”
“Ha! Then you came to the wrong place,” I tell her with another wink.
Bobby takes a gulp of his beer and turns to face her fully. “When are you going to man-up and graduate from drinkingcider?”
“Oh boy, here we go,” I mutter, mentally settling in for a typical sibling squabble session.
“First of all,” Mac starts. “I’m not a man, nor will I ever be one, thank God. You all take no pride in your attire, and you always have dirt under your fingernails.”
“Hey now,” Colton says. “Don’t lump me in with them.” Of course, given how many showers he takes a day between work and the aftermath of Casey, his five-year-old daughter, he’s probably cleaner than Mac most of the time.
She leans in and presses a kiss to his lips. “Except for you, babe. Though,” she glances down at his hands. “Your hands—”
“Doesn’t count. I just got off work,” he says flatly, and she leans in and kisses him again. “I know, and I secretly like it when you’re dirty.” She smiles against his mouth and we all look away.
“Get a room,” Bobby groans. “You guys are gross.”
“Your face is gross,” Mac retorts. “Anyway, I’ll consider venturing into the hoppy world of piss tasting beer when it stops tasting like, well, piss. Until then, cider is fine with me.”
Always a glutton for punishment, Bobby eggs her on, but I’m not about to engage in another battle of the wits with her about the delicate craft of brewing, which I know I’m gonna lose.
“So, Nick,” Colton starts, resting his elbows on the bar top. “Where’ve you been lately? I haven’t seen you around the complex.” Being my neighbor and all, Colton and I are used to running into each other at least a few times a week, especially when Casey’s around. She likes to make special trips to my house to play Mario Cart or look for Mac, even though Mac hasn’t lived with me for a few months now.
“Mostly up at Sam’s, helping to de-winter the place now that the snow’s gone,” I tell him. “I’m still working on the new office space, too. And I have classes.”
“De-winter?” Bobby asks. “Is that an official ranch term.” He chuckles.
“It is now.” I grin. “How’s the leg, by the way? The last time I saw you, you took quite a beating on the ice.”
Bobby shrugs and glances at his sister. He’s never been a complainer when it comes to pain, none of the Carmichaels are, but in Bobby’s case it’s because Mac worries about him too much as it is.
“It’s still attached,” he says reluctantly. “Annoying as hell, but it hasn’t stopped me from playing.” He looks sidelong at his sister again.
“Yes, you did say that out loud in front of me,” Mac says, distracted as she digs through her purse. “I’m doing my best to pretend I don’t care.”
Bobby looks sheepish. “You can care, Mac. Just don’t be so overbearing. I play hockey. I get hurt. I can’t help it.”
She turns on her stool to face him. “Don’t give me that crap. You can help it.”
“Dude, it’sthe code—it’s part of the game. I’m an enforcer, which makes it one of my jobs, literally. Sorry if you don’t like it.”
Mac’s mouth draws up in the corner, and I can tell she’s trying to play it cool even though she worries endlessly about him getting an injury one of these days he won’t bounce back from. “I know. I just...If the NHL is what you really want, screwing up your body now—ignoring the pain and brushing off your injuries—it’s going to hurt you in the long run. That’s not overbearing, Bobby. It’s common sense.”
“Maybe if you started coming to my games again, you wouldn’t worry so much,” he mutters. “You’d see that I’m fine.”
Mac living in her own place seems normal now, to me at least. Meeting there for a beer or a game night a couple times a month is a nice change of pace. I never stopped to think how her moving out of the Carmichael house has affected Bobby, though. They’ve always taken care of each other, and now that her dad, Cal, is dating my Aunt Alison, I wonder how often he’s home anymore either.
“You’re right,” Mac says, smiling. “Dad’s been telling me to hire help for the front office for a while now. I’d have more of a life if I did.” She rolls her eyes. “Maybe even make it to a game or two.”
“See!” Bobby’s eyes brighten. “It’s a win-win. And you guys can bring Casey along—it will be a family affair.”
“I don’t know about that,” Colton says, shaking his head. His blue eyes shadow as he imagines something. Probably Casey sitting through a whole game while Bobby and the boys go to town on the visiting team. He clears his throat. “She’s not big on hockey quite yet,” he justifies.
Colton’s tattoo barely pokes out above his shirt collar, and what Mac once told me flashes to memory. His accident. He’s probably not very keen on violence after what happened, having covered up his burns with the tattoo to try and move past it all.
