Page 3 of Steadfast

“Don’t touch it,” I warned, hurrying over to the fridge. “We’ve got just enough for the tater tot casserole tonight and tacos on Thursday.”

Ronan groaned. “Tater tot casserole is gross.”

“Boo hoo,” I shot back, closing the fridge and standing in front of it. “It feeds us for two days, and it’s got all the food groups.”

“It tastes like shit.” He crossed his arms over his chest.

“Stop poutin’,” Cian ordered.

“I won’t put the tots on your portion,” I assured Ronan.

“Tots are the best part,” Saoirse said, shaking her head.

“They’re mushy,” Ronan argued.

“They are not!” Aisling practically yelled.

“Thought you like shit mushy,” Cian needled.

I stood there in the center of the chaos and took a deep breath. It was the last week of school before summer break. Mom hadn’t been home in days. The house was hot because the air conditioner broke the year after Dad died. Aisling looked like a fucking jack-o’-lantern. Ronan hated summer break because I wouldn’t let him leave the neighborhood, and none of his friends lived close. Saoirse was losing access to the school library, and Cian was just always a pain in the ass. They were hot, stressed, and worn out.

“Yo,” Richie yelled, raising his hands in a stop motion.

“Thank you,” I breathed, looking up at him.

He winked.

“Listen up,” I said, glaring at Cian as he opened his mouth. “You’ve got free breakfasts and lunches for four more days, yeah? So, eat while you’re at school. No raiding the fridge when you get home. We’ve got exactly enough to get us through five more dinners. Tater tot casserole, tacos, macaroni and cheese, and spaghetti.”

“That’s only four,” Ronan pointed out.

“Leftovers on Saturday,” I snapped.

“Fine. Geez.”

“I’ll grocery shop this weekend after work, alright?”

“Maybe Mom will bring home some groceries,” Aisling said hopefully.

I swallowed tightly as I looked at her. Somehow, she still didn’t seem to get that we were on our own. We’d been that way since Dad died when she was four years old.

“Yeah, maybe,” Cian said kindly, glancing at me. “You never know.”

Ronan rolled his eyes, but thankfully kept his mouth shut.

“Leftovers on Sunday,” Richie corrected, wrapping his arms around me from behind. “Saturday night I’ll bring pizza after work.”

“Yeah! Pizza!” Ronan cheered.

“Nice,” Saoirse said, nodding.

“You don’t have to do that,” I murmured quietly.

“You know we always have extras that people don’t pick up,” he whispered in my ear. “No worries.”

He wasn’t lying, they did usually have extra—but not always. Now that he’d promised the kids he’d be bringing it, he’d never show up empty-handed. He’d pay for them if they didn’t have any unclaimed pizzas Saturday.

“You’re good to us,” I said, turning to face him.

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