Page 18 of The Love You Fight For
She smiles bigger. “Yes.”
I ruffle her hair, and she squeaks a little, batting me away with a laugh, then I look at the hamster.
“Later, Pumba.”
Cheyenne laughs some more. “It’sPuma, Uncle Chris. P-u-m-a.”
“Oh, right.” I tap my head with a shrug. “I always forget. See you in a bit, Punk.”
She’s already turned away from me, attention back on thehamster, and I’m forgotten. I pull her door shut behind me. On the way back downstairs, I peek into the twins’ room, and unsurprisingly, it’s a disaster. I don’t know what Tiff and Michael’s plan is for when the new baby gets here in a few months because there is no way they can put it in here, and I don’t know how Cheyenne will feel about having to share a room with an infant.
Instead of stopping in the kitchen, I head straight to the backyard where my brother-in-law is manning the grill. As soon as I see him, I whistle and drag my eyes down the length of his body, taking time to survey his legs.
“Look at you showin’ off,” I joke as I sidle up next to him. “They look good. How do they feel?”
Michael lifts the leg of his shorts and knocks on his left prosthetic with a smile.
“They feel good. Fit good. Train better.”
“Nice.” I lean my hip on the deck railing next to the grill. “Boston won’t know what hit them.”
“Eventually,” Michael says, casually flipping hamburger patties like he’s not a total badass.
He’s gotten back into distance running in the last year, and the new prosthetics are a result of that. His plan is to run the Boston Marathon again, but this time in the para-athletics division. I have no doubt he’s going to do it. Michael is one of the strongest, most determined people I know.
I watch him man the grill, and he side-eyes me.
“Stop judging my burgers,” he grumbles.
“I wasn’t.” I laugh. “I swear.”
“You’re a shit liar,” he says, and I shrug.
Technically, I hadn’t judged his burgers.Yet. I was still assessing the setup. Guessing the charcoal temp, surveying the patty placement on the grates. I hadn’t even had a chance to catalog the seasoning being used. He figured me out before I could get that far.
“You hanging in there?” he asks, changing the subject.
He gestures to a large serving platter on the table beside me. Igrab it and hold it out so he can start putting the hamburger patties on it.
“Yeah, I guess. I’m more angry that I didn’t see it coming than anything else,” I confess. “When I think about it now, I just feel stupid about how much shit I missed.”
Michael snorts a laugh, and I groan.
“Yes, I know. I’m sure I’ll hear about it from Tiff. I don’t need to get it from you, too.”
“I’m staying out of it,” he says innocently. He flips the last hamburger patty onto the platter, then closes the lid on the grill. “Can’t make the same promise for your sister, though.”
“Trust me, I know.”
I follow Michael into the house and set the platter of burger patties on the counter. I can hear my dad laughing in the living room with the kids, but when I glance in there, I don’t see Chy. She must still be upstairs in her room. I move to the pantry to pull out hamburger buns, chips, and paper plates so I can help set the table like Tiff asked. I’m allowed a mere three minutes before my sister brings up the breakup.
“So how are you feeling, then?” Tiff asks casually, and I flick my attention to my brother-in-law before answering. The way Michael flares his eyes at me tells me Tiff’s feelings on the matter are anything but casual.
“I’m feeling good,” I lie.
I’m not feelingbad, per se, but I’m definitely notgood. Can’t tell my big sister that, though. If she catches even a whiff of heartache, she’ll put a hit out on my ex.
“We just wanted different things, and I respect that,” I add.
