Page 27 of Sing Me Home
Charlie let out an adorable yawn. “Good morning?” Her nose twitched. “What smells so good?” She did a double take, rubbing at one eye. “Why are you all dressed like you’re about to run a marathon?”
“Good morning!” Mom said cheerfully. “It’s the start of DupreeFamilySpartan Race season.”
I grabbed one of the shaker bottles. “Got your pre-workout ready to go.”
Charlie squinted, like her brain had just blue-screened. Then she burst out laughing. “Ha. Ha. Good one.” When we didn’t laugh, one dark brow crept up. “I don’t do running.”
“Sure you do,” Dad said. “I’ve seen you outrun Cash plenty of times.”
I smirked. “As long as I made you mad enough.” She glowered and it only made my smirk bloom to a full-blown grin.
She pointed at my mouth. “Put that thing away. It’s way too early for…” Her finger made a tight circle. “That.”
I grinned even wider, which made her blush.
Dad gave Mom a look.Told you, he mouthed.
Charlie pretended like her cheeks weren’t so red they could stop traffic, walked past me, and plopped into a stool at the island. “You guys have fun. I’m going to sit this one out.” She snagged a leftover piece of bacon.
Mom gestured as she said, “Up, up, up. It’s not optional.” Then, out of nowhere, she produced a grocery bag and began pulling items out one by one. “I got you shorts, a couple of tanks. Two sports bras,” she whispered like Dad and I couldn’t hear. “Compression socks and running shoes. So, no excuses, missy.”
Charlie stared at her like she was waiting for the punchline. “What do you mean, it’s not optional?”
Dad grabbed a water bottle off the counter. “She means every Dupree over the age of ten is doing the race.”
She pursed her lips and folded her arms. “Oh, really. Even Theo?” She scoffed. “He wouldn’t be caught dead doing anything athletic.” Her lips twisted. “It’s my favorite thing about him.”
“He got second place in his age group last fall,” I said. “Right behind me.”
Her mouth parted. “Theo?”
“Yes,” Mom said dryly. “This is what happens when you don’t talk to your family for a year, honey. People change and evolve.” Oof. There went those cheeks again. Mom shooed Charlie with her hands. “Go change. We’ll meet you in the car in five.”
“Seriously, Aunt Peyton.” Charlie released a terrified laugh. “Nobody wants to see me running that race. I’ll embarrass all of you.”
“I mean, I want to see it.” I laughed.
She groaned. “I told you to put that away.”
I dragged my bottom lip between my teeth and smiled wider.
She covered her eyes so she couldn’t see me.
“What part of ‘it’s not optional’ do you not understand?” Dad asked playfully. “Chip chop.” He clapped.
“Fine,” she said smugly. “If you tell me Granny and Gramps are doing the race, I’ll do it.”
Dad pressed his hands into the granite countertop, and leaned forward, eyes piercing. “Granny and Gramps are doing the race.”
She blanched. “Are you serious? That can’t be safe. They’re…old. I hope you have a defibrillator on site.”
“I’m going to tell Gramps you said that.” Dad chuckled. “They’re not that old.” Both of his brows raised in a paternal, don’t-sass-me-again warning. “Move it.”
“Wait. Where are we training?” she asked. I perked up at her use of the wordwe. She was going to do it. Dad had been confident we could sway her. But Charlie was one of the strongest-willed people I knew. At least she used to be.
Dad pulled his arm across his chest, stretching. “We built a course at Dupree Ranch.”
Mom gave her a look that saidjust another thing you’d know about if you hadn’t been MIA.
