Page 46 of The Pretender

“I agree.” A shiver moves through me. “I need a warm drink.”

“Ooh, there’s a great coffee place on?—”

“At home, Brogan. I’m freezing.”

Brogan looks at me, shaking their head with pity. “I thought that big city would toughen you up, not make you delicate.”

“Now you’re calling me delicate too,” Balt says with a hint of amusement in his voice. “I can’t win with you.”

Brogan grins. “You’re kind of funny. You didn’t seem like you’d be funny.”

“You shouldn’t always judge a book by the cover, right?”

“Preach.”

Brogan saunters ahead of us, taking their burrito out of a bag and peeling back the foil to dig in. I decide to wait until I’m back in the car and can feel my fingers again. Once we get there, the three of us sit in silence, wolfing down our food, and as I finish my burrito, the earlier promise I made pops into my head.

“Oh, shoot. I told my mom we’d go to the grocery store for her.”

“No problem,” Brogan declares. “We’ll hit Woodman’s on the way back.”

Two hours later we arrive back at the house, carrying our bags of groceries and clothes. Mom greets us like she’s surprised we’re here, which is really cute and heartwarming. I guess I was worried about nothing. So far, the family seems truly happy I’m home.

“I’m making alfredo tonight,” Mom says, unpacking groceries on the kitchen island. “You like alfredo sauce, Balt?”

He nods. “I like pretty much anything Italian.”

“Good boy.” She smiles at him like he’s an obedient dog. “Other than the occasional cookout, which we won’t be doing in February, it’s pretty much all we eat around here.”

“I do hope to try a brat before I leave.”

Mom stops unpacking and turns to face him. “When are you leaving?”

“No plans as of now. I meant it generally speaking.”

“Oh.” She smiles, setting the container of milk down. “Good. We’ll make some brats. Your dad’s recipe, Brogan.”

Brogan pats their belly. “Yum.”

“Do you boys need a snack?”

“We got lunch before we went to the store, Mom,” I say.

“How was shopping?” she asks.

“Excellent,” Brogan gushes. “I found the cutest stuff at this vintage place.”

“Vintage,” she repeats, laughing softly. “I probably still have clothes in my closet older than you.”

“We could find out if you’d finally let me raid it.”

Mom pats my cousin’s arm. “Someday.”

Balt stands nearby, leaning on the island and watching my family interact with an interesting expression on his face. I’m not quite sure how to read it, but it seems almost nostalgic. Oh dang. He must miss his family.

“Do you need any help, Mom, before we head to the cottage?”

“No, this is more than enough. Saved me a trip to town.”