“I know. I’ve been swamped at work.”
“How’s the Batmobile coming?” he asks with a smirk. Weston’s a cop, and together we keep the Batmobile theory alive in Dean’s mind.
“Will you two stop already!” Mom steps over Boots and scoops up Jackson. “Poor Dean actually believes you.”
“Mom, not even Jackson believed me when I told him I was building a Batmobile.” Shaking my head, I sit back at the table to finish my coffee. Lord knows I need it.
“Right, Grammy. Batman already has the Batmobile.”
“My three-year-old son is smarter than our brother,” Weston mutters, making me laugh.
“Grammy, I’m hungry.” Jackson’s eyes are on Mom’s scrambled eggs. “Can I have that?”
“Of course, little mister!” Mom puts him down at her spot. “I made those just for you, you know.”
Standing to get more coffee, I smile. Mom’s been like that my whole life, never stopping to think about herself for even a second when it comes to her family. I chat with Weston for a bit before he leaves to run errands and go home to sleep before working the night shift.
Then Jackson and I go outside to feed the chickens and play with the dogs while Mom rushes around to clean the kitchen. The house is already spotless, but since she’s hosting the party this evening, she’s in overdrive.
I know something is wrong the moment we step back into the house. Mom’s on the phone with one hand pressed to her forehead.
“Don’t panic. It’s not a disaster. We’ll work it out, sweetie. All right, bye now. See you later.” Mom hangs up and whirls around. “This is a disaster!”
“What is?”
“The caterer is sick.”
I blink and wait for her to elaborate.
“Kara’s aunt and cousin started their own catering business a few months ago. She wanted to hire them to be nice.” Mom shakes her head and starts madly scrolling through her phone for someone else to call. “Her aunt has been sick with the flu all week and her cousin woke up this morning throwing up. I can’t believe she thought it would be okay to make the food up until now! The moment her aunt got sick, she should have canceled, not leaving us high and dry the day of the party.”
“It’ll be okay, Mom,” I reiterate. “I’m sure we can find someone else to cater tonight.”
“On such short notice? It’ll be a miracle if we do.” She trades her phone for her to-do list and takes a deep breath, trying not to panic. Raising four rowdy boys and one wonderful daughter—who might have gone through a super sassy teenager phase—has given Mom an edge on appearing calm when she’s internally freaking out. It’s something I inherited from her and am thankful for when I get stressed with work.
“Mom, go take a shower. I’ll call around. And if I can’t get someone, we’ll put something together. Dad’s still out on a job, right?”
“Yes, he won’t be back until the afternoon.”
“Perfect. He can pick up whatever we need in that time. And Kara’s a pretty good cook, isn’t she?”
“She’s a wonderful cook. But it’s her party and that’s the last thing—”
“Mom, it’s not the wedding today. If she needs to help make appetizers or whatever, she can.”
“Right.” Mom comes over and kisses my forehead. “I’m so glad you’re home right now, honey.”
5
Archer
My phone rings, startling me awake. I rapidly blink, trying to get my eyes to focus. I’m disoriented, and it takes me a few seconds to realize where I am. It’s been so long since I’ve done anything but work, and on my days off I spend most of my time catching up on the sleep I’ve missed.
I feel around on the nightstand for my phone, and have a minor panic attack when I see my mom’s name. Unless it’s my birthday, I always do. And even then, my anxiety goes up every time I see her name on the caller ID.
Maybe today is the day the Narcan didn’t work.
Maybe today is the day they found him a little too late.
“Hello?” I answer, pushing myself up onto my elbows.
“Hey, Archie.” Mom’s voice is calm, but that doesn’t mean much. “How’s my favorite doctor?”
I let out a breath and realize it’s going on ten o’clock. She’s not waking me up early in the morning with terrible news.
“Tired.”
“Hang in there, you’re almost done.”
“Yeah,” I say, though work wasn’t the reason I’m tired this morning. I got back to the room late and should have crashed. But I couldn’t because I couldn’t get my mind to shut off.
Quinn was in my thoughts, in my dreams, pulling on my heart. I almost messed up last night. Almost took things too far.
Twice.
I can’t let it happen again.
She’s my best friend’s little sister, and he’s made it abundantly clear the best way to get on his shit list is to make a move on Quinn. No, he’s never directly told me to stay away from her, but the unwritten rules of friendship are there. And who’s to say Quinn would even go for me?
She’s the most interesting person I know, and while being able to introduce myself as a doctor definitely helps me score, the effect is lost on Quinn. She’s not impressed by titles or jobs that make lots of money. Though most of the women who fawn over doctors don’t realize how little a resident doctor makes.
Quinn is different. She’s smart and self-sufficient. She sold a fucking app to Apple before she was twenty-five and works for one of the most up-and-coming software companies in the nation.
“Arch?” Mom repeats my name.
“Sorry, Mom, didn’t hear you.”
“Are you at work?”
Yawning, I lay back in bed. “No. I was sleeping.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you. Why did you answer?”
I don’t say it, but she knows exactly why I answered. I’ve spent the last fifteen years worried every time my phone rang it was the call. “I need to get up anyway. I’m meeting the guys later.”
“The guys? Oh, right! You’re back in Eastwood with Dean Dawson. Have fun, Archie. You deserve it.”
“Yeah. How’s…how’s everything at home?” It’s the most specific I’ll get, but Mom can read between the lines.
“Things are looking up. For now. The last few days have been easy. Dad got some time off from work and we’ve all gone out and did the things we used to, like bowling and dinner.”
“That’s good to hear.”
“We miss you.”
“Yeah,” I say, knowing not everyone in the “we” even gives a shit. “I’ll call and check in next week. Love you.”
“Yeah, you too.” I hang up, feeling my pulse still race. I waver back and forth between sadness and anger, hating him for doing this to us. Sometimes I think he’s a selfish prick. Other times I think he’s a victim of his disease.
It’s hard not to be mad at him, and even harder not to resent him. I miss him as much as I never want to see him again, and I hate him as much as I love him. Though in the end, he’s family. In the end, I just want him to live.
I want him to be my big brother again and not the addict he’s become.
“There’s been a slight change in plans.” Dean sets his phone down and finishes his beer. The plans for today were nothing more than drinking and playing video games. Catching up on the same old shit we used to do in college, besides go out chasing girls.
“Why?” Owen doesn’t look away from the TV.
“The caterers got sick and no one else is free.”
“How is that our problem?”
Dean gives his younger brother a glare. “There’s no one to make the food for the party.”
“Again,” Owen starts. “How is that our problem?”
“And you wonder why you’re still single,” Logan mutters.
I laugh, finding the banter between Dean and his brothers to be oddly comforting. “You said plans changed,” I say. “What have they changed to?”
“Going to the house to help Kara, my mom, and Quinn cook.”
Quinn.
“Sure.” I do my best to sound annoyed. Cooking a big, fancy meal on a Saturday afternoon is the last thing I want to do. Hell, cooking a big, fancy meal any day sounds like a terrible time. I don’t know how to cook and I hate washing dishes.
But if Quinn’s there…