Would she ever get any credit with Samara?
“Yeah, you can help, I guess.” Samara kept chopping.
Mari stood still, wondering where she could fit here, even though the kitchen was spacious. It felt claustrophobic.
“I’ll cut up the chicken if you want,” Mari offered. It looked like the breasts were all browned and done. They were resting in the pan.
“What can I do?” Adam asked, sneaking up behind Samara and giving her a hug.
“You can set the table,” Samara replied.
“But I wanna help make the food like Mari is.” He stared into the pan and his eyes lit up.
“You don’t know how to cook,” Samara told him.
“Neither does Mari, other than spaghetti and her own stir fry. She only knows two more things than I do. Why does she get to help, and I can’t?” he asked.
“Oh, all right. You can help me by cutting these mushrooms up. Use the egg slicer,” she said, pointing to the drawer.
He pulled it out, opened it up and tried to strum it like it was an instrument.
Both of their energy levels were dizzying. Why did Mari feel like she’d run an emotional marathon while he was bouncing around with energy to spare?
She found herself staring at him in awe several times, rather than cutting the meat into cubes.
He was definitely stronger than she was and more resilient.
Adam was done in no time at all. He sidled up to Mari and began helping her without being asked or told. He whispered in her ear, “They don’t like me to chop anything because they don’t want me to have a knife in my hands.”
It tickled her ear the way his breath blew her hair. She rubbed her ear on her shoulder when he pulled away.
“Why not?” she mouthed.
He shrugged.
Mari’s mind raced with all the restrictions they put on him and how some of them seemed justified while others were nothing but silly.
“Samara, why does Adam think your family doesn’t want him to handle a knife?” Mari put her knife down and faced her.
“Because he’s not careful enough and can cut himself,” Samara replied.
Mari put her hands on her hips. “Just now, while we were cutting, he was more aware than I was. Does that mean I shouldn’t be slicing anything in this kitchen as well?” Her hands went to the counter and rested there so she could keep herself from doing something stupid like smacking some sense into his sister.
“No.” Samara’s eyes went wide and she turned to them both. “It’s for his own good. We never know when the numbers will take over.” She went back to finishing up what she was doing.
“When’s the last time you were out of it because of the numbers?” Mari asked him.
“It’s been a long time, and the last few times were so minor I was able to focus and keep doing whatever I was involved with.” He smiled like he wore a badge of pride.
“I think this family underestimates you and your abilities,” Mari said under her breath, looking at Adam.
Samara’s knife clanked on the counter. “I heard that!”
“Oh goody. Then maybe you can learn to trust that your brother’s not a kid anymore. Maybe you should ask him more often how in control he feels. Does he seem stressed out to you right now?” Mari’s finger’s flexed. She took on a wide stance to balance herself in case Samara, the real menace with a knife according to Rory, decided to do something about this little confrontation.
“Maybe you should shut your mouth.” Samara tossed the knife in the sink and dumped the chopped veggies into a hot sizzling pan.
The vegetables popped and hissed.
“Let me tell you how impressive Adam is, in case you’ve missed it.” Mari took a deep breath. “We just got run through the mental meat grinder at Dr. Harkham’s. I feel drained, and I’m dragging. He’s upbeat, hopping around here like a bunny. He bounces back better than anybody I’ve ever seen. I’d give him the knife before I’d give it to you.” She put the chicken in with the vegetables that were cooking.
“Is that so?” Samara stepped closer, her eyes gleaming. “And you’ve known him for what? Three weeks? Oh, that means you know him better than me. Congratulations.”
“I’ve known him for ten weeks now, and yes, I do know him better, because I listen to him. I ask him how he feels about everything. I don’t know why you don’t ask—he’s happy to share.” Mari stepped forward, too. “Maybe you don’t really care, or maybe you think you know best. I’m betting on the latter. I don’t treat him like a kid, I treat him with respect like an adult man would want. No one’s going to know better than him what’s actually best for him, because none of us knows what it’s like to be him.”
Samara’s hand flung out like a whip. Mari flinched to brace for the impending smack, since she had no intention of dodging it, but in a flash Adam snatched Mari out of the way, ensuring she wasn’t struck.
“Go to your room!” Dustin’s voice carried through the kitchen.
Mari’s lungs tightened, and her stomach dropped. She was in trouble for helping Adam?
It wasn’t your place to say . . .
Dustin’s eyes raged at Samara, making Mari’s brow furrow.
How did this happen? He was taking Mari’s side, rather than his own child’s?
“What?” Samara cried. Her face was even more wrinkled in confusion than Mari’s. “What did I do?”
“I heard and saw exactly what you did. Mari’s not just some guest here you can treat like trash. She’s living with us now as a part of the family because Adam says she is.” His dad pointed to the stairway down the hall.
Samara huffed and turned off the stove. “She barges right in here and acts like she’s the authority on everything there is to know about his condition and how our family handles it. What right does she have to—”
“I talked to Dr. Harkham today, and she said Mari’s done more for him than any of the rest of us ever have or could, and I believe her.” Dustin moved through the kitchen with grace and stood right in front of her, looming by a foot in height. “I’m getting out of their way—you should, too.”
“But, Dad, she has no idea what it’s like to deal with him in the long term,” Samara said.
He turned his head over his shoulder and with sharp eyes on Mari asked, “Do you think you could finish up this meal?”
Adam stood straight up and answered for her, “We both can.” He beamed at his father.
“Fine. I trust you both. Mari—if you’re unsteady right now, maybe you should sit and direct him. I’m sure he’d be happy to get dinner done. I’m gonna go have a chat with my daughter . . .” Dustin grabbed Samara behind the elbow and led her out of the room.
Mari’s head fell forward. An awful sinking sensation swept through her. It was her fault. She should have shut the hell up. But no! She went and belittled her possible future sister-in-law, and right in her own domain. Dinnertime was special to Samara, and Mari splattered it all to pieces because she was being indignant over them treating Adam like a child—not allowed to use anything but safety scissors.
“I’m sorry,” Mari said.
“I’m not. I loved it, and it made me really hard, hearing you defend me like that.” Adam smirked.
She looked his body over. He was indeed exactly what he said—extremely turned on.
“Don’t you usually say you’re sore?” she blurted.
What was with her mouth? Was it that doctor’s session? Did it tap into her mind and let it free?
“Zach gave me a book with sexual terms and told me what to call things so I don’t sound like a health professional. That’s what he says I sound like, and he also told me it’s a turnoff to girls. I don’t want you to be turned off. I like it when you breathe hard, your nipples stick out, and you have that look in your eyes like you want to eat me for dessert rather than a donut. And I think I’ll taste good to you.”
“Boston cream?” she teased.
“Exactly.” He hugged her, keeping h
is lower half from touching her.
She wanted to giggle, but after what she’d gone through a moment ago with Samara, it seemed cruel to be laughing and having a good time while Samara was being scolded.
“Let’s cook some yummy food,” he said.
She smiled, squeezed his arm and let go.
“Unless you need to sit?” He watched her move like a sloth around the area.
“I think I’m good.” She had him start the rice and turned the burner back on so they could finish cooking the vegetables.
In less than a half hour, dinner was done. The table was set, but they were the only ones in there.
“Should we go tell them it’s done?” she asked in a quiet voice. The place seemed so empty.
“I’ll get them. But I want you to do something while I’m gone.”
“Anything . . .” She leaned her chest into his with her head tipped back so she could stare into those gorgeous eyes.
“I want us to have peace tonight. There are some candles on the top shelf in the pantry and matches right next to them. Set them out, and I’ll play some music so we can all stay calm.” He cupped the back of her head, slipped his fingers in her hair and kissed her like a confident man without fear of anything at all.
“Those numbers don’t have a chance,” she whispered when his lips detached from hers.
“Not when you’re around.” His smile was so bright it poured new life into her.
When he left to gather his family, her step had a lift to it and her breathing was lighter.
Mari could live happy in this house forever if she could count on moments like this with him. That little snippet was more rejuvenating than any amount of time she ever spent in the gym, fixating on music or being stoned.
It was easy to find the candles. They emitted a light vanilla fragrance as soon as she lit them. The long tapers cast a warm glow. She noticed they had dimmers in the kitchen, so she turned the unnatural lighting down to halfway, then took her seat.
Music floated into the room, and it was a beautiful piano piece she didn’t recognize.
Adam walked into the room, holding both his dad and Samara’s hand with Zach directly behind them. Zach’s hands were on Adam’s shoulders, and he was smirking.
“Can you believe this crazy family?” Zach asked Mari when they were all at the table, taking their seats.
“No, I honestly can’t, because I never ate with either of my parents. I can count on one hand how often that happened,” she said.
“That’s not what I meant.” Zach’s eyes softened and his smile faded. “That really sucks. Did you eat at the table alone?”
“Mostly in my room. I’d listen to music or watch something on my phone. Mom wasn’t usually around at dinnertime anyway. Either she’d work late or be out with her current boyfriend. I never paid much attention. Besides, she and I didn’t see eye-to-eye on food choices, so it kind of happened naturally that we ate apart.”
“That’s so sad.” Adam held her hand. “I’d miss eating with my family. That’s when we all get to talk about our day.”
Mari’s eyes flicked over to Samara. Would that change now that Mari was here? Would Samara keep quiet?
“No wonder this meal is so special to your family. I’ll try to honor it as best as I can,” Mari said.
“Too late for that,” Samara grumbled with her head down and her hands in her lap.
“What did I say?” their father said.
“I know what you said—doesn’t mean I agree,” Samara replied and looked up at him with an expression of bitterness.
“But you’ll keep it to yourself,” their dad responded.
She nodded, but barely.
“So, how do we do this? Do you bless it or do we all start eating after your da”—she cleared her throat and stopped mid-sentence when she remembered he’d asked her to call him by his name—“after Dusty does?” Mari winced slightly. It still sounded stiff and wrong to call him that.
“We’re not that formal,” Zach answered. He dished food onto his plate and started eating. “Once everybody’s ass is in a chair, the food is fair game.”
“Dustin?” Mari tried that one instead, and it felt as forced as the other one. “Can I ask you something?” Her voice was so soft she barely recognized it.
“Of course.” Dustin passed the rice to Adam.
Adam set it down and watched them with interest.
“I realized when I was talking to Amelia”—she swallowed at her sudden dawning on her lack of manners by referring to his colleague? Friend? by her first name— “I haven’t had a smoke in two days. Maybe this is a good sign. Maybe it’s time I quit?”
“You want my seal of approval? I think that’s a given—definitely get rid of that vile habit. You’ll be glad you did, and so will I.” Dustin loaded up his fork with food without looking at her once while speaking to her.
Mari smiled shyly. “That wasn’t exactly what I wanted to ask you . . .” Adam squeezed her hand, still with an empty plate before him. “I was wondering if you could help me—give me some medical advice on how to go about kicking this habit.” She started dishing Adam some food to keep her nervousness away. “Like, should I go on the nicotine patch? I know there’re other options, but I never paid any attention to them because I didn’t have a reason to quit. I finally feel like I don’t need them.” She gulped. Her stomach was arguing—warning nausea was around the corner.
This would be a bad time to throw up.
She rubbed her abs a little when nobody was looking and sipped some water.
Dustin’s eyes moved over to her, and his level gaze made her hands shake as she scooped rice onto her plate.
“I can definitely help.” Dustin’s eyes smiled at her even if his mouth did not. “I’m happy to give you some advice, and, Mari . . .”
“Mmm?”
“I can’t tell you how pleased I am you came to me with this.” His dad took a bite of food, chewed with a thoughtful expression on his face and swallowed. “Now, who has something they want to share about their day?”
“I do!” Adam almost shouted. “Dr. Harkham said I’m a bright man with a spectacular future ahead of me.”
“That’s awesome,” Zach said, his dimples deep and welcoming.
“I thought so . . .” Adam’s thumb stroked the outside of Mari’s hand. “And she said if I want to have a baby with Mari, I should do a lot of research first. So that’s what I’m doing. Zach gave me a great book.”
His father’s face froze.
Mari’s heart stopped, and her hand was made of stone, clasped inside of Adam’s.
Zach snickered. “It is a helluva book,” he agreed.
“No porn in it?” his dad inquired.
Zach laughed harder. “Nope. Just good advice on how to have sex if you’ve never done it before. It’s actually a book Mom gave me a long time ago. It’s well-worn, but he didn’t seem to mind.” He took a hearty bite of his meal.
“Mari doesn’t want to have kids, though. She already told me. I think that’s a bad decision—we’ll talk more about it so when we’re married we’ll already agree.” Adam nodded and began eating.
Was this normal dinner conversation?
Mari sat, stunned, barely blinking.
“Children are a big responsibility.” Samara finally spoke up. “And what if your child has your disability?” Her dark eyes bore into his light, effused ones.
His glowing smile continued on. “I know that’s a possibility, but I would be able to teach my son how to deal with it in the right way.”
“Son?” Mari choked.
“Yeah.” Adam looked at her like she was slow. “It’s gonna be a boy. I can feel it. And that book has a section on how to plan the gender of the baby.”
“That’s not a 100 percent guarantee,” his dad said.
Nobody was eating anymore. Mari’s eyes roamed around the table.
“Is there a problem with girls? Are you saying you’d only love this child if it wa
s a boy?” Samara asked, emotion’s cracking her voice.
“No. I’d probably love a girl more, because she’d be like her mom, but something tells my gut it’s gonna be a boy.” Mari pulled her hand free. Adam’s fingers flexed, and he kept talking. “That is after I convince her to have a child with me.”
“She seems to be pretty good at saying no to you so far,” Zach said with his fist in front of his mouth, muffling his opinion.
Samara stood up, took her plate over to the garbage, emptied the food inside, rinsed the dish and set it in the dishwasher.
She marched back over to the table and asked her father, “May I be excused since I’m done eating?”
“Yes, you may, but you’re going to clean the bathroom right now as way of apology for being so rude to your new sister who cooked this meal for you since you couldn’t manage to do it in a civil manner.” Her father flipped his wrist at her like he was shooing her away.
Samara released a shrill sound as she tromped out of the room.
* * *
Mari and Zach were busy.
“I can move that,” Adam told Mari as she carried Zach’s laundry basket for him.
“I’ve got it,” she said.
He frowned. “Zach! Quit giving her heavy things. Give those to me,” he called out.
Zach chuckled from in his room. “She’s the one grabbing ‘em,” he hollered back.
A moment later, all three of them were in Mari’s new room. A few of Zach’s football posters were still on the walls, but most of his stuff was already moved.
Adam pouted. They didn’t give him much to do, and she kept talking to his brother.
“I hate that group!” she said with a laugh. “They’re sell-outs.”
“That’s what’s cool about them,” Zach said with a smirk.
Sell-outs? What did that mean?
Adam flopped onto her new bed. It smelled like his brother’s cologne. Yick!
He got up and started pulling the blanket off.
Nobody seemed to notice or care.
She stood a foot away from Zach, smiling and saying in a happy voice, “That doesn’t even make sense.” She shoved Zach’s shoulder.
Harkham's Case (Harkam's #1) Page 31