Page 2 of Reckless

I guess I’ll find out.

“Bea, don’t sweat it. You’re going to kick ass.”

I glance at Cole, who’s still stuffing his face with both our breakfasts. You’d never guess the guy was born with a congenital heart defect. He hasn’t let it slow him down, even for a second. By the time I was born, he’d already had heart replacement surgery and hasn’t stopped since.

A wave of affection crashes over me. I’m going to miss him. Our other siblings are in varying stages of their college education, and I’ll miss them, too. But Cole and I were always the closest since there are a few years between us and the others.

“Thanks, loser,” I answer, which in sister speak means thank you, and I’m going to miss you. He grins around a mouth full of eggs and bacon, and I stick out my tongue.

Mom looks at Cole and says, “Don’t make faces at your sister.”

“You’d think we weren’t nearly thirty,” I say to him. “First Dad with the gun and macho speech, and now Mom acting like we’re kids.”

“You’ll always be my babies,” Mom answers affectionately. “Now play nice.”

“And to think I was feeling bad about leaving the lot of you,” I retort on my way to grab more coffee. I stand at the counter, blowing on my cup until it’s cool enough for a sip.

“Would it be wrong of me to ask you to be at least a little sad when you’re gone?” Mom asks with a trembling smile.

I cross to her and kiss her hair. “I’ll be sad, but just for you. The women in this family are the only sane ones.”

Dad pretends like he doesn’t hear Mom’s comment. “Promise you’ll keep it on you after you get your permit, Firecracker. I don’t care if you don’t think you need it.”

“If it makes you feel better, I’ll bring it and wear it, but only if I’ll be somewhere sketchy. A gun-toting Floridian isn’t exactly the impression I want to make with my new colleagues.”

He doesn’t seem impressed with my answer, but he doesn’t argue. “And your new apartment has security? When you get there, make sure to install a second set of locks and check the deadbolt.”

“Dad—”

“And carry some Mace with you, just in case.”

“Da-ad—”

He takes one of my hands and holds it in between his. His stern expression makes me choke back my complaints. “You have our numbers on speed dial, and I’ve got a buddy from the navy at Coronado who can come if you ever have an emergency.”

“Dad. I’ll be fine.”

I want to say that nothing will happen. I want to say that the likelihood I’ll ever be in an emergency type of situation is slim to none, but life has proven that to be inaccurate.

Before I was born, Cole was abducted by our mother’s biological mom, our grandmother, who was batshit crazy. For a short time, they thought he would die because of his heart condition and fragile state. Thankfully, he was found safe, but that experience left an indelible mark.

They’ve always been overprotective of my younger siblings and me. It’s hard to fault them for it, considering.

It’s why I’m not too hard on my dad for being so . . . well, neurotic. My therapist says it’s his way of controlling the uncontrollable and that I should allow him to feel safe so long as it doesn’t interfere with my own sense of independence.

“I know you will, but did it have to be California?” He says it like I decided to join the circus.

“Dad,” I say with a little laugh, “you’ll see me at Thanksgiving. You and Mom are coming out to visit, no excuses.”

“Fine, but none of that tofu shit.”

“Promise,” I answer. “I’m gonna go pack. No sticking any more weapons into my luggage,” I warn before I head upstairs to my room.

Once my things are all packed, I linger as I dress, remembering growing up in this house— the memories, the love, the heartache. I wouldn’t be who I am without this house, these people.

But it’s time to make new memories.

Once I’ve checked and double-checked my suitcases, I head back downstairs to say goodbye to my family. I find them waiting for me in the living room, wearing identical concerned smiles and trying not to let them show.