The Stepbrother (Red's Tavern 5)

“I told you to take a break, not to be alone for the rest of your life,” he said. “And I don’t think that’s how physics works.”

I shrugged. “I was always better in art class than science, anyway.”

“Celibacy for life at the age of twenty-eight, huh?” Red asked.

Right as I was going to go ask the hot businessman if he needed a refill, my phone vibrated in my pocket.

“Holy shit, finally,” I said. “He’s calling.”

All of my willpower went out the window immediately. Maybe I was a little too addicted to my phone. Not that I was going to detox anytime soon.

“What happened to lifelong celibacy?”

“I’ll be right back, Red.”

“Don’t let him apologize. Kick him to the curb,” Red said. “This is me being open and honest with you. You’re falling for someone who doesn’t deserve you, Sam!”

But I was already walking outside, the front doors of the bar quietly shutting behind me. I stood under the awning by the brick wall, the summer air balmy now that the sun had gone down.

I took a deep breath, pulling out the phone and looking down at the screen.

Mom.

All of the energy inside me deflated like a balloon going limp. I pressed the button to answer the call, holding the phone up to my ear.

“You aren’t Frankie,” I said with a sigh.

Mom’s signature laugh came through the phone. “Who the hell’s Frankie?”

“The guy who should be calling me right now.”

“Oh,” she said. “You’ll be over him within a week, hun. You always are.”

A group of people rounded the corner on the sidewalk ahead, already having a fun night out before they got to the tavern. They approached the front doors, and I held one open for them.

“Welcome to Red’s,” I said, trying to keep my voice chipper and upbeat. “Two-for-five special tonight on all of our ales.”

My shift was about to get a lot busier. Red’s Tavern was a sleepy, casual bar during the day, but it really came alive at night.

“I think I’m already over him,” I told my mom once the customers had filed into the bar. “I’m just going to embrace being single forever. Get used to the idea of me being unmarried. And say goodbye to the idea of grandkids.”

“Nonsense,” she said. “You’re going to find someone who treats you right, not like these… what did you call them? Fucktoys?”

“Fuckboys, Mom,” I said.

She let out a long, raspy laugh. “Right, right.”

Her laughter settled over me like a cozy blanket. No matter how unlucky I’d been in the romance department, I’d won the lottery with Mom. She’d had a hard life, but she’d raised me fiercely, with more love and patience than freaking Mother Teresa.

Mom had always kept a sense of humor, even after my dad left when I was three. When I was a kid, she had come home smelling like coffee and toast after long shifts at the diner, hugging me close and playing at least a few rounds of Go Fish before bed. I’d come out to her when I was twelve, telling her I had a crush on a boy named Jason Lehman from school. She’d embraced my being gay from moment one. She was my number one fan, and let me know she loved me forever, no matter what.

Because of her, I was never afraid to be true to myself. I let the world know exactly who I was, loud and proud. Even if the world didn’t always want me back.

I let out a breath. “I think I’m done with the fuckboys anyway, Mom,” I said. “I’ve only got a minute left on my break, though. What’s up?”

“It’s on,” Mom said. “The road trip. We’re leaving at the end of next week. Greg’s got the RV all washed and he’s already stocking it up.”

“Sounds… very… RV-ish,” I said.

“Tell me you’ll come along, hun,” she said. “Lord knows you need to get out of Amberfield.”

I bit my lip, looking out at the street lamps in the night air, tiny moths floating in the amber glow.

I’d refused to go on lots of trips with my mom and stepdad Greg over the last few years. The idea of being cooped up in a rickety RV on long stretches of washed-out highways sounded like hell on Earth. Mom always invited me, but I always found some reason to stay here in Amberfield—usually some fling with a guy that I was sure would turn out to be the one.

“Does the RV still have roaches in it?”

Mom cackled. “That was a cricket, and that was one summer,” she said.

“There was definitely also a bee in there once.”

“Oh, you have no idea how easy you have it, kid,” she said. “When I was ten, we had a bee hive in our roof. There were bees in my cereal. Bees in my shoes. Bees—”