“Please tell me the two of you aren’t fighting already,” she said, directing her words at my brother. Her soft brown hair matched the color of Trent’s hair, framing her face in perfect tendrils. Her chocolate brown eyes were warm and inviting—something I had missed terribly.
“But sh—”
“Uh-huh,” she cut him off. I heard Owen snicker beside me. He looked down at me, and I smiled. “Be nice to your younger sister,” she said as she stopped in front of me.
She pulled me into a swift hug, and her sweet perfume surrounded me. “I missed you, sweetie,” she whispered in my ear. I didn’t realize until then just how much I’d missed her.
“You too, Mama,” I whispered back.
She released me from her tight grip and looked at Owen. “Now, tell me who this handsome young man is.”
“This is Owen,” I answered quickly. “He’s a friend from school.”
“A friend, huh.” She raised an eyebrow.
Owen set the bags down and held his hand out to her. “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Daniels.”
“Oh please,” she said. “Call me Teresa.” She turned to my brother. “Trent, take their bags to your sister’s room.”
“Oh, uh, Mom,” I said quickly. “He’s going to stay in the guest room.”
“Nonsense. He can stay in your room,” she said. “Besides, the guest room is taken. Your grandparents are coming in tomorrow.”
Owen and I exchanged glances. Oh no, I thought. This isn’t good. Not good at all.
I felt Owen’s breath as he leaned toward me. “I’ll take the floor,” he said, under his breath.
I couldn’t say anything—all I did was nod. I hadn’t thought this through at all and now here we were, at my house for Christmas, sharing my room together.
Trent mumbled some nonsense I couldn’t understand as he came and grabbed the bags. I wanted to punch him more than ever before—or share that photo everywhere I could.
I knew my mom was watching us, probably wondering if Owen was more than a friend, and more than likely delighted that he was. I was shocked when she said he could stay in my room, but I knew that arrangement wouldn’t last long—not once Dad and Damon found out.
“Now, I’m sure the two of you are hungry,” Mom said. I nodded. “Great! Well, I’ll go make up some sandwiches. Why don’t you give your friend a tour of the house, and then meet me out on the deck. I’m sure Owen will love the view out there.”
“Mom, it’s like fifty degrees outside!”
“Good point,” she said. “Then meet me in the dining room.”
I shook my head and tried to not to laugh. Owen might’ve not noticed it, but my mother was absolutely in heaven right now. I knew what was running through her mind: I brought a guy home for the first time ever. I’d hate to see the bright, wide grin disappear off her face when she realized that there was nothing between Owen and me. He was only here because I didn’t want him spending the holidays alone.
“I think the kitchen will be just fine, Mom.”
She opened her mouth to protest, but then clamped it shut, gracefully spun on her heels, and headed to the kitchen. Her angelic appearance wasn’t one to be reckoned with. Get her in a courtroom, she’d chew you up and spit you out before you even had a chance to blink. She carried the fighting spirit at home, too—always the enforcer, always the one to discipline, always the one to make sure my brothers and I stayed in line. My father, on the other hand, was the lighthearted spirit, the one who had trouble saying no to us kids—though I had no doubt he’d be shouting no from the rooftops when he learned of our sleeping arrangements.
When we were finally alone again, I turned to Owen. My face was warm, and I had never been more embarrassed—except, maybe, the moment when Owen retrieved my bra for me when I crashed to the floor a few months ago. I’m pretty sure nothing would beat that.
“I am so sorry you had to deal with that,” I said sheepishly. “Trent, well, I think he was dropped on his head once too many times. Or he suffered more concussions than he should have playing football.”
Owen shrugged his shoulders and offered me a slight smile. “No biggie,” he said. “I have a feeling Trent and I are going to be best friends.”
I didn’t know whether I should laugh or be afraid. The idea of the two of them actually being friends—let alone best friends—was a scary thought. But somehow, I could see it. In another world, those two could cause a lot of trouble together. I hoped I’d never see that world.
“So, ready for the grand tour?” I asked.
Owen smiled. “We’re not going to get lost are we? Should we grab some water? Perhaps supplies while we’re at it?”
“Ha-ha, not funny,” I said flatly. “The house isn’t that big.”
“Maybe you could draw up a map for me,” he said, trailing behind me as we left the living room. I rolled my eyes.
“Okay, so down here is my bedroom.” I ignored him and walked into the east wing of the house. “It’s also where all my brothers’ rooms are.”
“All three of them?” he asked in a monotone voice.
I laughed. “All three of them,” I repeated. “Damon, my oldest brother, has his own place, but he stays here from time to time. And I’m sure he’ll be here for a few days during the break.”
I glanced over my shoulder to see that Owen’s face was as white as a ghost. He looked like he was ready to be sick. “Don’t worry—my room is at the end of the hall. No one treks down that far, so I think you’ll be safe.”
He swallowed hard. “I don’t think I’ll be safe at any distance.”
“You don’t even know my brothers,” I said. “What are you so worried about?”
“I have a little sister, remember?” he answered. “I know how protective brothers are. And if I don’t make it out alive at the end of this, please tell my family I love them.”
I laughed so hard that it echoed throughout the house, and when I had to stop to catch my breath, Owen almost crashed into me. I turned at the last second, and our bodies pressed against each other. I heard someone clear their throat and saw Owen’s face fall again. I took a step back, looked down the hall, and saw Trent.
“What’s going on out here?” he asked, his gaze locked onto Owen. He had a wild look in his eyes, like a lion ready to snack on its next meal.
“Giving Owen a tour of the house,” I said.
“Uh-huh,” Trent said. “Well, I don’t think that entails grinding in the hallway. An arm’s length apart is a good starting point.”
“Trent!” I exclaimed.
“I agree,” Owen cut in. “We need to keep our distance.”
“Oh no.” I turned to him. “Don’t you even try to get in his good graces. Do not play his games, Owen.”
Trent reached us, stopped next to Owen, and draped his arm around his shoulder. The two were nearly identical in height. “You know what, pal?” Trent said to Owen. “I’m starting to think you’re not so bad. I think we’re going to get along just fine.”
“Just freakin’ great,” I murmured under my breath.
Trent slapped Owen on the back and chuckled deeply. “How about we go see the rest of the house?” he asked.
“I think that’s a great idea,” Owen replied, and the two of them disappeared into the house’s lower level.
This isn’t happening, I thought.
I had no idea what the two of them could possibly be talking about. I figured Trent was giving Owen some sort of “stay away from my sister if you know what’s good for you” speech—which would’ve been pretty ironic, considering that Trent has probably heard that one a million times from the brothers of all the girls he’s dated.
As I wandered into the kitchen, the Beatles’ “I Want to Hold Your Hand” came through the speakers my mom insisted having installed in the kitchen. She was convinced there was nothing better than listening to music while slaving over a hot stove. I watched as she swayed to John Lennon and Paul McCartney’s melodic voices, smiling as I re
membered all the times we’d listened to this song.
She looked up from the cutting board, a wide grin spreading across her face as if she was recalling the same memories I was. “Sing it for me, darling!” she said, holding out her spatula like a microphone.
Delighted, I obliged her without hesitation, belting out a few lines from the chorus, and both of us laughed. She turned back to the bowl in front of her and squeezed some mustard into it. I leaned over and saw the makings of chicken salad—one of my favorites.
“I thought you were giving Owen a tour of the house,” she asked.
I climbed onto the bar stool across from her and grabbed for the pickle jar in front of me. “I was,” I said, “until Trent decided to take over.”
She shook her head, laughing gently. “So tell me about this boy,” she prodded.
“There’s nothing to tell.”
“Oh, so you just happened to bring a boy home for the holidays like he was a lost puppy,” she pressed, clearly not believing me.
“Mmm-hmm,” I hummed, biting into a pickle.
“Forgive me for saying this,” she continued, her voice laced with playfulness, “but I call bullshit.”
“Mom!” I squealed.
“What?” she asked, innocently. “I’m not buying it, Brennan.”
“Buying what?” a male voice sounded from behind me. I turned to see my brother Trevor standing there. I let out a slight squeak, hopped off the stool, and threw my arms around him. “Hey, little sis,” he said, messing up my hair.
“Brennan brought a boy home,” my mother teased.
Trevor’s mouth dropped open like it was trying to fall all the way through the floor. “You’re kidding, right?” he said, deadpan. “Please say you’re kidding.”
“Nope!” she answered, almost a little too cheerful. “Trent’s giving him the tour as we speak.”
“You left him alone with douchebag?” Trevor said to me. “Are you crazy?”
I shrugged. “He didn’t give me much of a choice.”
I took a moment to notice that Trent wasn’t the only one trying out a new hairstyle. Trevor’s rich brown hair brushed against the back of his neck and he was constantly blowing his bangs out of his eyes.
“So, what’s this deal with the hair you got going on?” I asked him, reaching out to ruffle the top of his head.
“It’s just something the football team is doing this season,” he answered, jerking away from my hand. “And stop trying to change the subject. Who is this guy you brought home, and why did you bring him home?”
Great, I thought, not him too. Of all the people in my family, I thought that Trevor would be the one who was all right with me bringing Owen home—or at least wouldn’t care enough to make a fuss about it.
“He’s just a friend,” I said, sitting back down on the stool. I glanced at my mother and Trevor, and clearly neither of them were buying my story. “Honestly, he lives in the room across from mine, and he wa—”
“Do you even know the guy?” Trevor interjected incredulously.
I rolled my eyes. “Of course I do. I wouldn’t have invited him if I didn’t,” I shot back at him. He looked annoyed, rolling his eyes right back, but motioned for me to continue. “As I was saying before I was interrupted, I was getting ready to head to the bus station when I bumped into him, learned that he wasn’t going home for the holidays, and invited him here.”
Trevor stared at me like I’d just shot a husky. “I can’t believe you invited a total stranger into our house!”
“I might be blonde,” I said, jabbing him in the chest, “but I’m not stupid.”
“I wouldn’t be too sure about that. I think the two go hand in hand,” Trevor teased. I groaned. When I was in fifth grade, I was known as the “empty-headed blonde” for several months—all thanks to these two dimwits and their big mouths.
“Whatever,” I said, grabbing a slice of cheese and plopping it into my mouth.
I heard footsteps approaching, followed closely by muffled voices. I saw Trevor’s body tense in front of me, and I straightened my back. My mother didn’t do much to hide the smirk on her face. She was enjoying this, for whatever reason.
Trent and Owen rounded the corner. I watched quietly as Trevor clenched his jaw, and puffed up his chest. “So you’re the boy my sister brought home,” he said. “I have a bone or two I’d like to pick with you.”
I didn’t look at Owen to see what his reaction was, but I could imagine what was running through his head. He probably thought my family was crazy. Hell, at the moment I thought they were all acting crazy.
“It’s all right, bro,” Trent said, and I glanced at him. “I already gave him the third degree. He’s cool.”
I felt Owen’s eyes on me. I wanted to crawl away and hide in a corner and never come out. I’m glad I never brought a guy home prior to this, I thought.
I heard the security system beep—the front gate was opening. I glanced at the clock. It was too early for my dad to come home—he’d be working the night shift at the Children’s Hospital tonight—so I leaned over the counter to get a better look at the security monitor, curious to know who was coming.
A white Range Rover came into view, and my heart slammed against my chest. Things are about to get really interesting, I thought, burying my face in my hands. My mother laughed softly, and I folded my arms on top of the marble countertop, wedging my head into the crook of my elbow, wondering if I’d be able to disappear this way.
“Ah, well, I guess we’re about to find out just how cool this dude is,” Trevor said. I could hear the smile in his voice. “Because here comes big brother Damon.”
The kitchen fell silent as we heard tires crunching against gravel in the distance. The air was still, and I just wanted to escape to the safety of my room. As I heard the front door open, the hairs on the back of my neck stood at attention.
I held my breath, my heart seeming to drop lower and lower with each footfall I heard coming from down the hall. The steps were slow, purposeful, and completely set me on edge.
The twins struggled to hold in their laughter as if they were amused by an inside joke. But this time, everyone already knew what the “joke” was—Owen was not going to fly well with Damon.
Damon drew closer with each step. I peeked out from under my arms and saw my mother with that grin still plastered across her face. I groaned inwardly, letting my head fall again.
In my head, I slowly counted the seconds until my brother arrived.
3 . . . 2 . . . 1 . . .
SIXTEEN
“WHO THE HELL IS THIS?” Damon said. He was not happy to see some stranger standing in our parents’ kitchen.
The twins simultaneously erupted into fits of laughter, and I wished that the invisibility cloak wasn’t just a part of some magical story about a wizard. I sure could use one right about now! I thought.
“This—” Trent said as he clapped Owen on the shoulder “—is the kid that’s bunking with our dear little sister this week.”
“The hell he is,” Damon snapped.
“Now, Damon,” my mother said in a singsong voice, “he’s your sister’s guest. The spare bedroom is already taken, so where else is he supposed to sleep?”
“Not in her room—that’s for damn sure,” he said.
“You know,” Owen said, speaking up, “if this is all going to be a problem, I can leave.”
“NO!” I shouted, lifting my head up. I turned in my seat and faced Damon for the first time. His jaw was set in a tight line, and his stubble was noticeable under the kitchen’s fluorescent lights.
I climbed off the stool and, without saying a word, grabbed Owen by the hand, and began pulling him behind me.
“Where are you going?” Damon called out to me. “We’re not done talking about this.”
I stopped and turned around. “I’m done talking about this. You’re all acting like a bunch of damned idiots!” I said, raising my voice with each successive word.
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“He’s not staying in your room,” Damon said, taking up the role of family delegate in Dad’s absence.
“Mom . . .” I stressed, looking to her for help.
“All right, Damon, now that’s enough,” she said. My brother’s jaw twitched, and his eyes seethed with anger. “I don’t see a problem with Owen staying in your sister’s room considering there is nowhere else he can sleep except on the couch.”
“Now that’s a grand idea!” Damon exclaimed. “Problem solved.”
“I will not have our guest sleeping on the couch,” she responded, in her best rough-yet-motherly tone. “Unless you have a better solution, he is sleeping in her room, and that’s the end of it.”
I had no idea why my mother was pushing this so hard.
“Fine,” Damon said roughly. “I’ll stay at my apartment in the city. He can take my room.”
I saw Owen start to say something and I squeezed his hand. He glanced at me, and I shook my head slightly. I’d spotted a look in Damon’s eye—the one that said he wasn’t to be trifled with—and it wouldn’t do Owen any good if he spoke up now.
“No,” my mother said sharply. “You will be staying here.”
Damon clenched his teeth, and I knew he was letting this go. “He can take my bed. I’ll crash on the floor.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” my mother replied. She started dicing the pickle in front of her with quick, vigorous movements. “Brennan already has an extra bed in her room, it makes perfect sense for him to sleep in there.”
“Are you trying to get her knocked up, Mom?” Damon accused.
“Whoa!” Owen said, stepping forward. “You don’t have to worry about that.”
All three of my brothers turned to look at him. I saw him swallow hard but he held his stance, not backing down from their intimidating stares.
“You better hope not,” Damon practically spat out at him. I tugged on Owen’s hand, silently willing him to let it go.
“I’ll take the first shift outside her door!” Trent volunteered.
“You guys, seriously, enough!” I shouted. I was fed up. I was ready to grab our bags and have Owen take us back to campus. Being alone there was better than dealing with my brothers, who were acting like psychopaths. “There’s nothing to worry about . . . Owen and I are just friends.”
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