Page 3 of The Lilac River

She sighed dramatically. "Okay. Chocolate chip."

As she swung her legs, humming a tune fromSeven Brides for Seven Brothers, her latest obsession, I got to work.

Gunner shuffled in, kissing Bertie’s head before grabbing a glass.

"Morning, bro," he grunted, pouring himself some juice.

"At least you’re using a glass. Progress."

"Still fucking miserable, I see."

"Language," I warned, even though Bertie was too lost in her show tunes to notice.

"Did you eat a corpse last night? Your breath could kill cattle," I added, wrinkling my nose.

"Must've been your toothbrush I used."

Laughing, I flipped a pancake. This was normal. This was home. The days where my daughter sang old musicals, and my brother insulted me were the good days. The kind of good that snuck up on you. The kind that made you believe things might just be okay.

A door slammed. Gunner and I exchanged a look.

"Uncle Wilder!" Bertie squealed, dashing off.

"Six forty-five," Gunner muttered. "He’s early."

"Maybe he's growing up."

"Or maybe he’s still drunk."

He wasn’t wrong. Wilder, our youngest brother, stumbled in a minute later, hair a mess, bourbon fumes trailing after him.

"No one light a match," I said. "We’d all go up."

"Morning," Wilder rasped. "See you didn't get L.A.I.D. again."

My gaze shot to Bertie, who was mouthing the letters silently like they were part of a spelling test.

"Chocolate chip pancakes, munchkin," I said quickly, sliding her a plate.

She beamed. "Thanks, Daddy!"

Wilder dropped into a chair, smirking. "Whenever you’re ready, big brother."

"I'm not your personal chef."

"You kind of are," Gunner added.

True. If I left it to them, we'd all starve or die of food poisoning.

“I still don’t see why we had to let Marianna go,” Gunner muttered. “No offense Nash, but she’s a way better cook than you. Plus, she doesn’t mind cleaning the bathroom after Wilder.”

“Yeah, well,” I replied, “Dad felt she was an expense we didn’t need.” I scruffed Wilder’s already messy hair. “Even if wiping up after you was worth every dime.”

“I know I’m a joy.” Wilder grinned up at me. "Speaking of starvation," he said, snatching a blueberry off Bertie's plate, "Lily Jones is back."

The words landed like a brick through glass.

Gunner cursed. I dropped the pancake I’d been flipping.

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