Page 19 of On the Rocks

Ever since that day, the machine seemed to work even better together than it did when Dad was alive. We were in sync, tuned into each other’s needs, and forever protecting each wheel and axle.

God help any man or woman who ever tried to break down a Becker.

“What are you boys getting into tonight?” Mom asked, taking advantage of all of our mouths being full.

It was Friday night, which was like a weekly holiday in Stratford. Other than the tour guides, the weekends were slower for most employees at the distillery, and that meant less time spent working and more time spent living. We always did family dinners on Friday night before dispersing to whatever weekend plans lay ahead.

Michael was the only one of us who still lived at home with Mom, and he had just turned seventeen. He was going into his senior year after the summer, and we were all just waiting for the day he said he was moving out of the house and into a place with his high school sweetheart. They’d dated for two years now, and he was the only one of us I could ever imagine actually settling down.

I worried about when he moved out, though — and part of me wondered if I should move backinat that point. The thought of Mom living alone in a house that once fit a family of six was hard to stomach.

“There’s a party out at the Black Hole,” Logan answered, grinning at Mom. “Wanna come?”

“And have to bear witness to whatever debauchery lands one of you in jail tonight?” She shook her head. “Just bail each other out and I’ll see you for dinner next week.”

Logan’s smile mirrored Mom’s, the resemblance uncanny. He and Michael favored her — hazel gold eyes, olive skin, lean and fit, a smile that stretched across their entire faces. I looked more like our dad — stout, tan skin with a reddish tone that he attributed to the Native American in our blood, striking blue eyes that almost took on a silver hue in the sunlight. Mom said sometimes when she looked at me, she saw Dad whenhewas a boy, when they first met.

I’d always worn that like a badge of honor.

Jordan, who was the quietest at the table, didn’t look a thing like any of us. His skin was a light umber, his hair black and cut in a short fade. He was the tallest, the largest, the one who always stood out in family photographs.

And yet, he was our brother just the same.

“Bailey and I are heading up to Nashville for the weekend,” Mikey announced, and judging by Mom’s widened eyes, it was the first she’d heard of the plan.

“Oh?”

He nodded, stuffing his mouth with more mashed potatoes and speaking around them. “Her label is doing a showcase at one of the bars on Broadway. It’ll be kind of like Nashville’s first taste of her as part of their team.”

“I thought she hadn’t signed with anyone yet?” Jordan asked, speaking for the first time since we’d dived into our dinner.

“She hasn’t.”

“And when she does?” Mom asked, brows pulling together.

Mikey was quiet, pushing green beans around on his plate before stacking a few on his fork with a shrug. “I don’t know. I guess we talk about it then — where we’ll move, what our next steps will be.”

An uneasy silence fell over all of us then. We knew the day would come that he would move out, but what worried all of us — though no one said it — was that he was so sure his future was with Bailey.

And we couldn’t be sure she felt the same.

Sheseemedto love him, to care for him the way he cared for her, and we all knew he was like me in the sense that he wanted what Mom and Dad had. They had met in high school, and I knew Mikey felt like Bailey must beitfor him because she was his high school sweetheart, too.

But anyone who knew her could see that music was her first love. And we weren’t sure where that would leave Mikey.

“Well,” Mom finally said, forcing a smile. “Be careful. And don’t get into too much trouble.”

All of us scoffed at that, because justbeinga Becker meant trouble was never too far off.

After dinner, Logan and I helped Mom clear the table — Logan’s favorite job — while Jordan helped Mikey pack up his car. I walked out onto our old wooden porch just in time to see Mikey’s taillights pull away, the sun setting over the hills in the distance. I sidled up next to Jordan, draping my arms over the railing and cracking open the two beers I’d brought while he stood with his arms crossed hard over his chest.

“Your worry is showing, big bro.”

He humphed, taking the beer I offered him and popping the lid open. “Kid pretends to be so tough, but if that girl leaves him behind…”

“It’ll break his heart,” I finished for him. “I know. He’ll be okay. He’s a Becker.”

Jordan nodded, shoulders relaxing a little, as if that one fact was all the reassurance he needed that everything would be alright.