Page 56 of We Shouldn't Be Together
“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbles, slinking past me with his grocery bags. “And I only live in books. Wow. Come up with something original next time.”
“Pfft.“ It’s all I got, but it sums up my reaction.
I take three bags into the house, and Dad finishes up with the last two left in the trunk.
Mom’s chin drops as she clocks me entering the kitchen. “Who told you to be a hero, Kai? I told you, I don’t want you popping any stitches.”
There’s no way I’m telling her there’s a sting above my elbow. I just want to dump the bags on the kitchen island and scram.
“Hold it,” Mom says.
I bump into Dad on my escape attempt. “Doof.”
“Not so fast, son,” Dad says with a chuckle. “Grace, honey, did you hear about our drive home?”
Mom’s hands are immediately on her hips.
I sigh and roll my eyes. “I was a little heavy on the gas. Sue me.”
“Kai!” Mom screeches. “What have I told you about your lead foot? It’s not safe!”
I look at Dad to back me up. “There was no one on the road.”
“You’re supposed to stop at an intersection,” Dad replies. “You could’ve killed someone.”
“I braked,” I argue.
Dad shakes his head. “Not soon enough.”
I groan. “I know. It was a huge mistake. I wasn’t paying attention.”
“Why? What happened to distract you?” Mom probes.
“Nothing.”
“If it’s nothing, I’m calling the dealership and canceling your car right now.”
“No! Ugh, okay. It’s a stupid assignment. But I’m handling it.”
Mom and Dad share an amused look. “You’re worried about an assignment?” Mom asks. “This is new.”
“Can I go now?”
“No,” Mom says, gesturing to the unpacked grocery bags. “Get back over here and put the dry goods away.”
I groan, dragging my feet over to the kitchen pantry.
“Less attitude, Kai,” Dad warns, putting the last of the grocery bags on the island. “You’re very lucky today didn’t have a different outcome.”
“I know, I know.”
Dad leaves for his study, and Mom gawks at me. “Pick your feet up. Honestly, you boys are going to completely scuff my polished floorboards.”
“I know how to walk, Mom,” Milo says, unpacking bags near the kitchen sink.
Mom beams at him. “I know, honey.”
“Suck up,“ I cough. “But then again, do you know how to walk, little brother?”
