Page 8 of The Persistence of Thornes
With a ragged breath, Caleb straightens. He takes a sip from his beer, then clears his throat. “I’m just happy to help.”
My brothers sear him with identical expressions. The same ones they gave when they were seven and skeptical that the spaghetti our mom smothered in ketchup instead of tomato sauce would be any good.
I pile slices on two plates, then hold them out to them. “Shoo. Go watch TV or something.”
Before you embarrass me any further.
At least the internet was installed before we arrived. If it hadn’t been, I have no idea what we would have done. It’s not like they’ll read a book.
“I’m sorry about them,” I say to Caleb when the TV screen lights up. I sink onto a chair and pick up my pizza again. This time, I nibble on it, hoping it doesn’t make my stomach churn.
He sits beside me and gives me a wry smile. “You don’t need to apologize. It’s funny, really. You’re their sister, and they clearly want to embarrass you.”
“Yeah,” I sigh. “That’s a problem. How can I be their guardian when they don’t take me seriously?”
Caleb purses his lips slightly. It should look silly, but if anything, it’s cute. “I’m sure they understand that when it comes to the important things.”
The man has only known them for a few hours. He has no idea the kind of mischief they’ve gotten into over the past few years. If I can’t keep them under control, I worry the state will change their mind and place them in foster care.
I give a small, miserable shrug. “We’ll see, I guess.”
Caleb takes another sip of beer, surveying the room. “Do you have a notepad handy?”
I snort and hold out an arm, gesturing to the stacks of boxes. “Pretty sure that’s a no.”
“Right. Phone, then?”
I pull it out of my pocket and set it on the table. “Why do you need my phone?”
Lips twisting in amusement, he says, “I was going to save my number to your contacts. Thayer’s, Salem’s, and Cynthia’s too.”
“I have no idea who those last two people are,” I remind him.
“Salem is Thayer’s wife and Cynthia is the elderly lady across the street. She and her partner, Thelma. They’re too nosy for their own good, so you’ve been warned, but they’re great if you need a hand.”
I know good and well that I won’t ask for help from any of these people, but I let him put all the numbers into my phone anyway.
Once we’ve finished eating, Caleb helps me straighten up the kitchen and heads for the front door.
“Wait,” I call after him, picking up the pizza box we’ve put all the remaining slices in. “You should take the leftovers.”
He shakes his head. “Nah, keep it. Your brothers might get hungry again, and cold pizza makes for great breakfast.”
“It does, doesn’t it?”
I can’t count the number of slices I ate for breakfast as a kid.
As I follow him outside onto the front porch, I eye the flickering spiderweb-infested porch light and cringe, making a mental note to use a broom to clean it off and change the bulb tomorrow.
“Thanks again for your help.”
As he descends the creaky steps, I hold my breath, afraid one might break beneath his feet.
Turning, he flashes me a disarming smile. “You’re welcome. I’ll see you around, Halle.”
He strides across the yard, then bounds up his porch steps. When he turns my way, finding me watching, he smiles and throws his hand up. Then he disappears inside.
“People are way too friendly here,” I mutter as I head inside and lock up behind me.
