Page 95 of Can't Get Over You
“Do you want to give her some of the gingerbread cookies?” Finlay asked. “Tomorrow’s the holiday party. We can wrap them up nicely and put them in your backpack. Does that sound good?”
“That’s the last day of school, right?” Jude asked.
Cody sat back in his chair, looking uneasy. “It’s my last day? I don’t get to go anymore?”
“No, no.” She set down her fork. “It’s the last day before winter break. Preschool gets a whole month off.”
“I still go to school?”
“Yes. They’re just taking a break for the holidays. You’ll go back in January.”
“Okay.” The boy looked deep in thought. “If I’m not gonna see her, I’d better make a picture, too. She’ll be sad without me.”
“That’s a great idea. You’ve got that new art table in your room with all the crayons and paper.” Finlay smiled at Gunnar, who quickly turned back to the griddle.
Cody dropped out of his chair and ran off.
“Wait,” Gunnar called. “What about the pancakes?”
“I’m not hungry.”
After the boy reached the stairs, Boone asked, “Who the hell’s Amy?”
“A kid in his class,” Jude said.
“Maybe Jude wouldn’t have gotten suspended so much if he’d had an Amy.” Boone laughed. “You remember Ms. Duncan?” he asked his brothers. “Oh, man. She was such a bitch to me, and I never knew why. Until one day, when she asked a question, and no one but me raised a hand to answer. She wouldn’t call on me—acted like I was invisible—so, finally, I just called it out, and she said, ‘That’s enough, Jude.’ Can you believe it? He hadn’t been in her class in six years, and she still called me by his name.”
Boone was too busy laughing to notice the way his brother’s shoulders tightened.
“Remember when Decker got a D on that essay in Mr. Branson’s history class?” Boone asked. “He stayed after to find out what was wrong with it, and Mr. Branson skimmed the paper, handed it back with a shit-eating grin, and said, ‘Nothing, Decker. Nothing at all.’”
“Well, Mr. Branson was an asshole.” Everyone shot Finlay a look. Which was fair. She didn’t usually swear. But couldn’t Boone see the effect this conversation was having on his brother? “You know, not everyone should be a teacher. If you can’t see the kids as individuals, if you can’t see what’s really going on behind a vest and a bad attitude, then you shouldn’t work with children.”
“Okay, next batch.” Gunnar interrupted the conversation with a fresh platter of steaming pancakes.
She got his message to change the conversation. “What about you guys? What do you do for the holidays?”
“Usually, we have a big dinner for Christmas Eve—” Wyatt began.
“Rack of lamb,” Gunnar said on his way back to the griddle.
“And then a bunch of side dishes.” Wyatt stabbed a pancake with his fork and brought it to his plate. “My client’s making me pozole, so I’ll bring that.”
“Your client?” Finlay wondered if he meant someone he was seeing. Why would a pet owner make him soup?
“Yeah, that’s why he lives in an Airstream and not a damn house,” Boone said as he poured syrup. “He trades his services for weird shit like socks and?—”
“Pozole.” Gunnar looked at Boone like he couldn’t understand how his son didn’t get it. “Fair trade to me.” To Wyatt, he said, “Trim the dog’s nails or something and get her to double the batch.”
Wyatt blew out a breath of frustration. “I don’t groom pets.”
“Sorry, trim the talons on the raptor,” Gunnar said.
“Squeeze the cougar’s anal glands,” Jude said.
They all cracked up. Tension broken, Finlay went back to eating, but she wished Jude didn’t keep everything inside. She knew how much he hated the way his reputation had impacted them, buttheydidn’t.
“Okay, so Wyatt’s bringing pozole,” Gunnar said. “What else?”
