Page 33 of Afterglow (Ottawa Regents #3)

Bea mutters to herself as we walk up. “Piper, Parker, Greer, Miller…” She clicks her tongue after a pause, then repeats it. “Piper, Parker, Greer, Miller…?”

“Harper and Hunter. But they aren’t here anyway. I don’t expect you to?—”

I’ve lost her. Her ranty train of thought cannot be stopped.

“Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers,” she adds with a mumbled curse. “Fall in love with a Peter and his giant pecker and face the whole peck of Peters, eldest sister Piper.”

I snort. “Bea, what are you doing?”

“Trying to keep track of all your siblings’ names without getting tongue twisted. It’s nerve-wracking.”

“My older sisters are…something.” Hell, I’m nervous, too. “And everyone gets them mixed up. It’s fine. But you gotta stop talking about my” —I motion to my groin with my eyes— “pecker.”

“Right.” She closes her eyes and shakes the idea away. “If I talk about it, it’ll wake up and want to play.”

My cock twitches. God damn it.

“Bea, please.” We’re having a hard time staying serious, both tearing into goofy smiles like a couple of idiots in love. “I’m begging you.”

“You know how that’s my favorite.”

The playful mood drops when I push open the front door, giving way to a violent pile of footwear in the entryway: all various shapes, sizes, and colors.

And it’s not only the kids who are to blame.

Half a dozen adult pairs are strewn amongst them.

Only a couple of pairs line up with their twin on the opposite side.

Probably an effort by Piper and Miller, the only organized women to ever come through this house.

If someone walked in without looking, they’d trip over the ludicrous number of shoes, fall headfirst onto the floor, and die on the spot. I make sure that isn’t Behraz’s fate, guiding her by the hand as we traverse the uneven terrain and leave our shoes next to my sisters’ neatened sets.

Muted squeals and the laughter of children sound out from the yard as she inspects the solid woodwork of the banister with a sweep of her hand. Her eyes twinkle at the light shining through the stained glass window on the landing. A soft awe sweetens her tone. “So pretty.”

There’s a scuffle coming our way when the heavy wooden door slams behind us.

A gaggle of my older sisters and their husbands halt their stampede and gape at us, then at our held hands, then between me and Bea.

Blood rises from my chest with a fury, tinging my neck and face with red. She squeezes the hold.

“Holy shit.” Lucas blinks three times, like a cartoon. Greer elbows him. For a pair of English teachers, they’re suddenly lost for words.

”Pipe!” Dylan calls over his shoulder without breaking his eye contact. Piper is the only one missing. “Look what the cat dragged in.”

Bea mutters under her breath, speaking into my arm. “Am I the cat or you?”

My oldest sister rounds the corner from the kitchen in the back, coffee mug in hand, and sees me first. “ Aw , hey, Annie! You made it.” She joins the frozen group when she notices my plus-one.

“Annie?” Bea’s voice is no longer at a whisper.

A dozen questioning eyes fall back to her, then to me.

“Anne brought a girl,” Greer says to Piper behind a cupped palm.

“That’s never happened before,” she replies from the corner of her mouth.

“I didn’t even know he liked girls,” Dylan chimes in, the entire commentary happening as if we weren’t standing in front of them, within earshot.

“Same,” Cameron adds. “I thought maybe he wasn’t attracted to anyone, what’s it called? Asexual.”

That’s too bad. Miller’s husband was previously my favorite.

Bea shifts her weight onto one leg. “Definitely not.” The confident announcement startles them speechless once more. “Heyyyy,” she singsongs with a wave. “We can hear you.”

She deserves better than my silence. I ahem , intentionally slowing my words to avoid a stammer, which would surely lead to more teasing. “This…is Behraz.” Her name alone quiets the anxiety and I breathe in, gathering more confidence. “My girlfriend.”

She flashes a glorious smile at the simple introduction and gives another wave, this one giddy and childlike. “Hi!”

I name them in age order and couples: Piper and Dylan, Greer and Lucas, then Cameron. They exchange stiff handshakes, still stupefied.

“What’s that?” Piper tugs at my sleeve, eyeing the ink peeking out over my wrist. “You got a tattoo?”

“No way!” Greer pushes her aside to inspect it herself. “He’s not cool enough for a tattoo.”

I pull up the sweater sleeve to let them have a better look. “Bea drew it.”

“That’s nuts.”

Is there no end to their slack-jawed responses? What happened to small talk and tokens of appreciation?

“Miller’s not here?” Behraz looks to me for an answer.

Cam throws a mindless thumb past his shoulder. “She’s in the basement with Park and the kids. I’ll go call them up.” He backpedals and disappears through a lit doorway.

Cautious footsteps come down the stairs one by one, faded orange curls bouncing on her shoulders. “Fletcher? Is that you?”

Bea loosens her grasp, but I don’t let her. I climb two steps to meet her, keeping my girlfriend at my side.

“Hey, Mom.”

She opens her arms and tucks into my shoulder, using one hand to bring my cheek down a few inches so she can reach it for a kiss. “Hi, sweet boy.” The greeting is as warm and familiar as the embrace. Mom pats my cheek twice before releasing me. “How are you?”

“Good,” I confirm, sharing a small smile. “Really good.”

“I can see that.” Her attention moves to Behraz, gaze sweeping over her excitedly.

“Can’t be doing that good,” Parker’s voice cuts through. He approaches from the rear of the house, arms crossing when he gets to the back of the group. “Not with that shitty contract.”

“Oh, Parker . Have some manners.” My mother grimaces, dismissing him with a wave. “Not everything is about hockey.”

His eyes roll to one side, averting them from Mom’s glare. Her expression softens when her focus returns to Bea. “Introduce her to me, Fletcher.”

“She’s,” I begin shyly, “Behraz.”

“Hi, Beh-raz.” The careful enunciation emphasizes the h . “Did I say it right?”

“Yeah-yes.” Bea nods. “Hi…Fletcher’s Mom.” She immediately backpedals. “I mean, uh, Mrs. Donovan?”

“Please.” Mom chokes on a laugh. “It’s Riona. Seems like both of my sons have poor manners.”

My loyal companion, the raging blush, worsens. “Sorry, this is my mom.”

“I didn’t realize,” Bea replies dryly, then addresses my mom. “I’m the girlfriend.”

Stifled laughter from the group has my blush worsening.

“I like you already.” Mom wags a finger at her. “Fletch needs to have more fun people around him.”

“ More fun?” Piper chuckles, throwing up her arms. “He plays games for a living. His whole life is fun!”

“Lucky bastard,” Dylan finally speaks up. “The rest of us are rotting in Summerside like overgrown Chanterelles.” Laughter and high-fives are exchanged between my brothers-in-law as their wives chide them.

There’s a crash, followed by a crunch from the basement. The adults erupt in a roar, arguing over whose kids it must have been, who started it, and who rightfully ended it.

“Go say hi to your dad,” Mom yells to me over the commotion. The stampede goes to the basement, taking an unwilling Parker with them. “He’s resting, but he’s awake.”

Of course, he’s awake. Who could sleep in all this racket?

Our socked feet echo muted steps as we climb the stairs.

“Why do they call you Annie?”

My head sways in disappointment. “I have red hair.”

The soft curve of her eyebrow rises, unconvinced. “You all have red hair.”

“And I have the most freckles. Plus, I was an awkward, gangly kid. I spent most of my childhood reading in my bedroom and then fleeing to the fields to recreate dramatic scenes on my own.” We turn at the landing.

Behraz shrugs. “I don’t get it.”

“They call me Anne of Green Gables, Bea. Ann with an e, Anne, Annie.”

She rolls her eyes as we reach the top of the stairwell. “That’s so…”

“…Lame?”

“Yes!” she says with a snap and a point, eyes brightening.

“ Lame . That’s the word I was looking for.

” A scoff exits her lips with a sputter as we pad down the hallway.

“It’s not even an insult. Anne was freaking amazing.

” Lifting our clasped hands, she kisses my knuckles one by one. “But you’re still Gilbert to me.”

Wrinkles in my cheeks form from the contented grin stretching my face. It fades when I realize we’re at my parents’ bedroom door. I knock.

A grumble sounds from behind it.

“Dad?” The door creaks open. I peek through the sliver of light.

His sleeping form reclines against the headboard, supported by a few pillows, a generous beer belly covered by a summer blanket.

The skin on his face and neck appears dull, speckled in red rashes, small lesions, and wrinkled like paper money.

One large leg rests outside the sheets, the calf, ankle, and foot swollen and elevated on a triangle pillow.

A few lottery tickets are strewn next to his limp hand, sitting by a discarded pen.

“Dad?” I repeat.

He responds without moving. “ Hmm ?”

“It’s Fletcher.”

Both eyes open and widen, revealing a jaundiced hue instead of white around his honey-brown irises. My stomach lurches. The years of drinking caught up to him. He’s almost unrecognizable and more unwell than Miller described.

“Hey, kid.” Dad weakly lifts his hand, and I cover it with mine, keeping it against the mattress. “You taking care of yourself?”

Bea tries to let go of me, but I don’t allow it. I need her.

“Yeah.” A long breath exits from my nose as I join him on the bed, half-sitting at the edge. “How about you?”

A sarcastic chuckle sounds from his throat. “Never been good at taking care of anyone, not even myself.” Regret clouds his expression. “Wish I woulda learned how to earlier. Then I wouldn’t feel like such a useless piece of shit for having to depend on everyone else now.”

His rue reflects in mine. “You…took care of us. You worked?—”