Page 133 of Off The Ice

If Maggie was bringing her friend, that was one thing. But the fact that it wasme—I had the feeling it sent an entirely different message.

One I didn’t really have the desire to contradict.

“Well, what do you think?” Mom gestured around us with eager eyes.

Again, I was forced to take in our setting. Totally unrecognizable from the home I grew up in.

I focused on the antlers above the fireplace while scrambling for something to come up with.

“It’s, uh, rustic,” I offered.

“It’s cozy,” Cassie added.

“If you’re Butch Cassidy or the Sundance Kid,” Maggie muttered under her breath.

“What was that, sweetheart?” Mom asked, still smiling.

“I said you should give Liam the tour while I talk to Cassie all the way over here,” Maggie said, lacing an arm through Cassie’s and attempting to pull her off into No-man’s-land.

Yeah, uh, no.

“Or,” I interjected, grabbing Cassie’s hand and tugging her back. “I could go introduce Cassie to the rest of the family.”

No way was I getting wrapped into one of Mom’s all-encompassing conversations on my own.

“Nope,” Maggie said. “You have her all the time. My turn.”

“Stop it, you two.” Mom frowned. “I mean, really. The poor girl isn’t a toy for you to fight over.”

She looked at Cassie with sympathy.

“I’m sorry you’re caught in the middle of my children.”

“It’s okay.” Cassie smiled. “It’s nice to be loved.”

Then she looked at me and cringed.

“I mean, it’s nice to be included. Like part of the family. No—not part of the family like that. But for the day.”

“Here’s a solution,” Mom said, apparently not noticing whatever was malfunctioning in Cassie’s brain. “How about I take the three of you on a tour?”

“I already went on the tour,” Maggie pointed out grimly.

“And did you think I wouldn’t notice how you disappeared halfway through?”

“Halfway through, meaning thirty-two minutes into it,” Maggie whispered to Cassie, causing her to giggle. “And I was hoping you wouldn’t.”

“Come on, let’s go,” Mom said, charging ahead.

“Giddy-up.” Maggie swung an imaginary lasso over her head, and the three of us followed Mom into the depths of her psychotic breakdown.

It got worse the further we went.

“Since when are you into horses, Mom?” I asked, unsettled by the bizarre imagery decorating the hallway walls.

“Oh, you know I’ve always loved horses,” Mom said off-handedly.

“I mean, as much as any other person does, I guess,” I mumbled.

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