I nod. “Yeah. I think there’s one.”
Dare raises an eyebrow. “And it seriously doesn’t bother you to sleep in the same house?”
I shrug. “I’ve never known anything different. My father has been a mortician my whole life. I used to get made fun of in school. Funeral Home Girl. That’s what they called me.”
I don’t know why I said that, and apparently Dare doesn’t either because he studies me now.
“Why would they do that? It’s not like you chose your father’s profession.”
“I know. Who knows why kids do what they do? They can be cruel. But I lived. And Finn did too. They used to tease him for being crazy.”
Dare’s eyes are dark as he looks into mine. “So you were basically all each other had growing up,” he says slowly. “No wonder you’re close.”
I nod. “Yeah. That about sums it up.”
“So that’s why you were upset the other night on the beach. Because you don’t want to be separated from Finn.” Dare’s voice is so calm, so slow and so steady. I nod, sucked into the vortex of that comfort.
“Yeah.”
He nods. “I can understand that. What’s wrong with your brother? You said he’s…”
“Crazy,” I interject. “I shouldn’t call him that. He’s not. He’s just got a mental issue. He’s medicated though.”
I hear the condensation in my voice and cringe. My brother is more than, not less than.
“He’s harmless,” I add. “Trust me.”
“I do,” Dare answers, his eyes gleaming. “Trust you, I mean.”
That answer causes my heart to thud. I don’t know why. It’s not like others don’t trust me. My dad, Finn. My mom used to. But to hear that Dare trusts me, it’s like an intimacy, words that roll off his tongue and meant only for me. I like it.
“Ready to eat?” I manage to ask casually. Dare nods and we make our way up the stairs and into the dining room. When he holds my chair out for me, I manage not to swoon.
***
The sound of cracking crab legs fills the air, along with the fishy smell of the meat. It makes my stomach growl in sort of a Pavlov’s reaction to melted butter. Across from me, Dare eats his like a pro.
He’s clearly done this before. I watch as he exp
ertly cracks the leg, then picks the meat out in one deft movement. Most people utterly muck it up.
“So, where do you live, Dare?” My father asks this casually as he takes a bite of biscuit, but his tone is anything but casual. I know it, and Finn knows it, but thankfully, Dare doesn’t know him well enough to see that my father is pumping him for information.
“My family lives outside of Kent, in the English countryside by Sussex,” Dare answers just as easily. I might be imagining things, but his eyes seem guarded.
“Oh?” My father raises an eyebrow. “You don’t say. You’re a long way from home then, fella. What brings you to the Pacific Northwest?”
I’m of course at attention now, blissful that my father is asking him these questions so I don’t have to. My questions are numbered and valuable.
Dare smiles politely.
“I’m just here visiting. America is beautiful, particularly this area.” He skillfully skirts the actually question, something that we all clearly see. However, there’s no way we can politely ask for a better answer.
Crack. My father splits open another crab leg. “I guess you’re used to the rain, coming from Sussex. My wife grew up in England. That’s why she never minded the rain here.”
Dare nods. “I’m very used to it.”
We all fall silent and continue eating, and I can practically see my father wanting to ask more questions.