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“Hunter wanted to come around here and make sure you got home OK, but I told him not to. If you ran…” She shot me a rueful smile. “Chasing you wasn’t going to help. Then Brock called me…” Her wince told me exactly what I needed to know. I’d seen him on the warpath, so I knew what she’d got on the other end of the phone line. “Then obviously they filled Hayden in… Actually, fuck that.”

Her hands went to her hips.

“Fuck them and fuck me. In my head, you all knew.” She shot me a meaningful look. “It was so damn obvious you were all into each other that Mum and Dad started a betting pool on which one of them would say something first.”

“Your parents…?” I backed up until my butt hit the kitchen counter.

“I thought I was giving you a little push. Remember when you were really into Derek in Year 9?”

“Ugh…”

My first boyfriend was the yardstick by which all other men were judged, though not because he was an amazing guy. For a fifteen-year-old, he was doing his damndest to live up to the bad boy label he’d been given.

“And I had a word with him for you.”

“Yeah, and then I had six months of being ignored or pressured for sex, him going and getting it from other girls when I wouldn’t put out,” I replied.

“And you would never have found out what a douchebag he was without a push. Instead, you’d have spent all that time writing his name and yours in your journals and sighing every time he walked past.”

“So all this elaborate plotting was just Derek all over again?” I asked, my brow jerking up.

“It’s me fucking up.” She threw her hands wide and then took a step closer. “In my mind, it would all work out.” We both snorted at that, remembering all the other times she made that assumption erroneously. “You’d decide which one of those idiots you could tolerate and then fall into his arms, and you’d be happy and he’d be happy, and then there’d be a whole lot of bumping uglies that you would promise to never ever talk about with me. Brock would chill the fuck out, or Hayden would stop being a sad sack, and Hunt… he’d stop being all stoic and shit, and you’d…” She was my best friend, that hit me hard right now as her eyes started to shine, her smile watery. “Then you’d be happy. You’d marry one of my brothers and be my sister legally, not just here.”

That thump of her fist against her chest cracked something inside me. All the cold, still calm was chipped away, leaving something raw and throbbing.

“So all this was just a dastardly attempt to get me married?” I croaked. “You know I don’t do weddings.”

“Domestic partnership, then,” she said, laughing despite the fact a tear rolled free. “De facto. Common-law wife. Life partner.” Her hand went to my shoulder. “You’d be a McDonald for real, not a stinky Kingston any more. I figured if the guys pissed you off, I’d kick their arses for you. I still can, you know.”

“OK, OK, I get it.” When her arms wrapped around me, I hugged her right back. “You’d do anything to try and even up the numbers of girls to boys in your family.”

“I need a girl squad for when we play Monopoly. Those guys are freaking brutal.” She pulled back and then stared into my eyes. “Seriously though, I fucked up. I know you hate surprises, and this? It was always going to freak you out. No more meddling, OK?” I looked at her in disbelief. “Fine, only meddling with your consent.”

“I am making a blanket refusal of all current and future meddling,” I replied.

“So you’re gonna be alone for the rest of your life.” She sighed and settled against the counter. “Have you got your cats picked out? I see all those cute Maine Coons on social media, though ragdolls are supposed to be just lovely.”

“You first, spinster girl,” I said, nudging her ribs. That earned me a jab back, the two of us devolving into some stupid squabble, right up until the point we heard another knock on the door.

“What the fuck…?” I froze in my kitchen, as if whoever was behind the door could see us. “That’ll be Mum.” I grabbed my phone and powered it on, seeing call after missed call. “She expected to see me at brunch and I hung up on her.”

“Hung up on Majorie? Damn girl!” She held out her hand for me to high five. “Look at you with your shiny new spine.”

“Not so bloody shiny,” I hissed as I scrolled through all the messages. “Shit, she’s gonna ream me out for hours after this.”

Another knock at the door seemed to confirm this.

“We can pretend we’re not here,” Millie whispered, but it was far too late for that. “Or I can answer it and say you’re in the shower getting ready.” I shot her a dark look. Feeling modest about my own body would not stop my mother from storming into the bathroom. “Or having a shit?”

Nope. I squared my shoulders, remembering how I’d felt when I hung up. Upset, confused, stressed but also relieved. I’d established boundaries, even if it was just the once, and that meant I could do it again. I strode over to the front door, jerking it open to find it wasn’t my family standing there.

Just Brock.

The way the skin around his eyes was creased in a half squint was all too familiar. It was the look he wore when he knew shit was going down and rather than lose it, he’d deal with it calmly. I was the shit going down. My feet shuffled against the floor, and then I stood tall, taking him in. Not in his usual uniform of old, worn jeans and a flannel shirt, he wore a pair of freaking slacks and a nice button-up shirt, the white in contrast to his deeply tanned skin.

“Looking good, brother.” Millie looked him up and down. “What’s the occasion?”

“I got a call from a Majorie Kingston on the garage emergency line last night,” he said. My cheeks reddened, getting hotter by the second. “She had an emergency, just not a mechanical one. Apparently she thought I was some prick who refused to commit to her amazing daughter.”