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I walk over and take the bags from his hands, noting that it’s just regular food groceries and breathe a sigh of relief. I don’t want to have to hide more stuff from him.

He’s visibly shaking at this point. I wrap my arms around him and pull tight, just like Damian did to me.

“Now you can cook some meals here. Or at least reheat them,” Porter says.

We all laugh at that. None of us were blessed with the ability to cook. Damian snagged himself a wife who knows the ins and outs of the kitchen and can make a decent meal out of a handful of ingredients. Porter and Ty are still single but definitely ready to mingle, as Porter always says.

“How about we keep this going in here, Dad? The boys said they have time to help more tonight. What do you want to keep?”

Instead, Dad is distracted as he glances around the kitchen. “I haven’t seen this linoleum for at least six years.”

“You might want to get that torn out,” Ty says. Damian and Porter hit him so he’ll be quiet.

“One thing at a time, boys,” I say, clucking as if I’m their mama bird.

We walk into the living room, my arm gently guiding my father forward. “It looks like we have a few tons of clothes and knickknacks. Books and magazines. Why don’t you go through and find your favorites, Dad? I’ll let the boys haul out the trash and then we can make a donation pile.”

“You’re going to give it all away?” he asks, turning to me with an expression that reminds me of a young child.

Shaking my head, I say, “No, we’ll just give away the things that are still usable to people who can use it.”

Something about that settles him and he nods. While Dad peruses through the stack of books, the four of us kids are pulling up more and more garbage. At least this is mostly plastic wrapping and paper tags that have been deposited on the floor. I don’t think I’ll ever get the stench of rotten meat out of my nostrils after cleaning out the fridge this morning. I’ll take this cleaning any day.

“You’re pretty awesome, Kenz,” Damian says from my side.

“Well, a girl has to start somewhere with her entrepreneurial endeavors. So, if you know of people who want some organization in their life, pass them my name.”

“I’ll hire you,” Porter says. “My apartment is tiny and needs all the help it can get.”

My heart warms at the thought my family is coming together to support me on this new venture. “It will be a couple weeks but I can give you the family discount.”

“Who else do you have?” Damian asks.

“Dad hired me but I’m not going to charge him. And I’m organizing Trey Hatch’s home.”

“You are working at Trey’s house? Does he have a restraining order against you yet?” Ty jokes. Just another reason why I don’t share feelings that often. I spent all my growing up years going through the teasing and torture of older brothers.

I hit him with my fist, not wanting to go into that. “Of course not. I’ve never been a stalker and he’s my client—I’m a professional.”

Porter hefts the garbage bag into the dumpster and it looks like that one had more than just papers in it. “Aren’t you doing some kind of dating show? I think Dad said something about it the other day.”

How in the blazes did my dad find out about the docuseries?

“No, it’s not a dating show. Well, kind of. They’re just trying to show the process of matchmaking.” From their smirks, I don’t even want to go into the details.

“How have your dates been so far?” Porter asks.

“They seem like nice guys. The first one ended up falling for Trey’s date.”

Damian stares at me. “Wait, what?”

“Trey is doing the docuseries too?” Ty asks.

“Technically, I’m not supposed to say anything about it yet, but yes, Trey is one of the people getting matched on the show.”

Damian, Porter, and Ty all lean in, ridiculous grins on their face. “So, any chance you could get matched up with Trey?”

Shaking my head, I say, “I doubt it. There are like eight main daters and we go on dates with people we’ve matched with. That would be kind of weird because I’m working for him right now.”