Starting with the Unexpected (12 page)

“Nah, you’re cute. I’d let you get away with it,” I assured him. “Did I thank you for starting my tea and for wanting to feed me? In case I didn’t, thank you. I really do appreciate it.”

“You hadn’t, but considering you were incapable of speech until about thirty seconds ago, it’s understandable. You’re welcome.”

He placed the cup of steeping tea in front of me, along with my creamer powder and the sugar, and I stared at them. “Do you have a coffee maker?”

“You don’t drink coffee,” Marcus reminded me. “Why do you ask?”

“Because you do, and I don’t remember seeing one when we packed up your stuff,” I said with a shrug. Caffeine addictions were serious business, so it was an important piece of equipment.

“I usually just get it at a coffee shop or at work,” he admitted sheepishly. “A coffee maker hasn’t exactly been on my list of priorities.”

“I suppose that makes sense,” I said, though I knew I’d be running out to get one once he’d gone to bed. A guy that’ll make my tea without being asked deserved to have coffee available for him at a moment’s notice. “So what can you tell me about your homework that doesn’t involve girly bits?”

It was a pleasant way to spend the evening, eating breakfast together while Marcus told me about the paper he was working on. When Jordan eventually joined us, we were greeted with a smirk and a comment about how domestic we looked. I shut him up by asking Marcus to tell him the vagina death story.

I was laughing hysterically at the look of horror on Jordan’s face when Marcus’s phone started ringing. He looked at it, sighed, and gave us an apologetic look. “It’s my sister,” he said. “My other sister. Want to hear what a fucked-up family I have?” Without waiting for us to say anything, he answered the call and put it on speaker. “You’re up late,” he said, not bothering with a hello.

“You’re an asshole,” a bitter voice responded. “How could you have Delilah arrested?”

“I wasn’t there,” Marcus pointed out patiently. “I got there after my neighbor caught her egging my door and breaking my front window.”

“That doesn’t mean you had to let them take her with them. She’s pregnant for God’s sake.”

The room fell into silence as the three of us looked at each other with wide eyes. “She’s pregnant?” Marcus asked.

“You should know, you’re the one who put her boyfriend in jail.”

“Actually I put her so-called boyfriend in jail,” I said, unable to hold back. I didn’t care if the bitch was his sister or not, no one was going to talk to Marcus like that. “He was pounding on your brother’s door demanding to see his boyfriend when I showed up, and he gave me a black eye for asking him to leave. I’d also like to point out that your brother was dating the guy when your skank-ass sister decided to spread her legs for him, so don’t you dare call Marcus selfish. Your sister has that perfected.”

“Who the fuck are you?” the voice on the other end of the phone shrieked. “This is a family matter.”

“Some family,” I shot back scathingly as my temper rose. “Your sister sleeps with your brother’s boyfriend, turns to vandalism when she doesn’t get her way, and somehow Marcus is at fault? You’ve got issues, girl.”

“I refuse to be spoken to like this.”

“What you mean is that you refuse to listen to the truth. Marcus is a wonderful person, and how you can treat him like this in favor of some spoiled little brat who can’t keep her legs closed is beyond me. You don’t deserve to have him for a brother.”

I was answered with a click and realized that Marcus’s sister had hung up. Then I realized what I’d done and turned to apologize to Marcus for butting in, only to see that he had tears in his eyes.

“Oh God, I’m so sorry,” I groaned, horrified that I’d upset him. “I didn’t mean to go off on her like that, she just pissed me off. I’ll call her back and apologize if you want.”

“Don’t you dare,” Marcus told me, reaching for me with one hand as he wiped his eyes with the other. I took the offered hand in mine and gripped it tightly. “I’ve never had anyone stand up for me like that before.”

“That’s just not right.” I spat the words out as if they tasted as bitter as they sounded and shook my head. “She and Brandon ought to get together. They have a lot in common. Luckily, I can share Jordan with you. He’s not entirely sane, but at least he’s not an asshole.”

“Linda and Terry will get their hands on you and never let go,” Jordan added. “So there you go, instant loving-and-not-totally-sane family.”

“Even Brandon will probably like you,” I admitted. “It’s me he can’t stand.” I got up from my chair then, paused to kiss Marcus’s forehead, and took the dishes to the sink. “I’m going to go shower. Are you going to keep working on your paper?”

“I probably should,” Marcus said with a sigh. “I’m a little behind.”

“Then keep working,” I told him. “I’ve got other stuff I can work on that won’t disturb you. Like doing the grocery shopping.”

“Thank you,” Jordan said immediately.

“Write a list,” I instructed and headed to my room. I paused as my eyes fell on my phone and remembered how horrible Marcus’s sister had been. After another moment’s thought, I picked it up and sent out a quick message to Brandon.

Thank you for being there for me when I needed you, even if you’re not exactly my biggest fan. You’re still my brother, and I still love you, even if I don’t particularly care for the way you act toward me these days.

It may not have been the nicest message ever, but I hoped it got my point across. Because, despite everything, he’d still shown up when I was hurt to make sure I was okay, and it was obvious that a sibling like Marcus’s wouldn’t have even gone that far. I didn’t bother waiting for a response, just grabbed some clean clothes and headed for the bathroom. I hadn’t written it hoping for a reply, and I didn’t need one. I just needed him to know how I felt.

“T
HESE
ARE
the worst instructions ever,” Jordan said. He stared at the sheets of paper that he’d pulled from the box of bits and pieces that were supposed to magically make a bed. I kind of wondered if we needed to wave a dead chicken over the pieces to make it work. I usually left assembly to someone else.

We had gone furniture shopping the moment our local IKEA opened for business, and had spent three hours grabbing the things Marcus had on his list and several things he hadn’t. I had no idea what I was going to do with that many candles or a hook shaped like a dog’s butt, but for some reason, I had to have them. At least I’d stuck with small items this time.

On the down side, it was nearing one thirty, and I was hungry. Thankfully I’d already solved that problem, along with the issue of getting everything put together.

“Don’t lose the instructions,” I told Jordan. “Help is on the way, and they’ll want those for reference.”

“They?” Marcus asked, looking a little leery.

“Yep. Texted them when we left IKEA,” I said with a nod. “Don’t worry. It’ll be fun.”

“Who is ‘they’?” Marcus asked, his eyes narrowing.

I grinned. “Someone I trust with a screwdriver.”

Jordan started cracking up, and he placed the papers back in the box. “You called your parents.”

“Of course I did,” I said. “Dad’s not likely to put pieces on backwards.” Unlike me. I’d done that very thing more than once.

“Both your parents?” Marcus asked, suddenly sounding worried.

“Yeah,” I said. “You like my mom, right? My dad’s just as awesome. Don’t let his looks fool you, he’s a total marshmallow. Especially if you offer him coffee.”

“Now that I can,” Marcus said, a smile creeping onto his face as he leaned close to me to give me a kiss. He’d been doing that a lot since he woke up that morning to find I’d picked up a coffee maker for him when I’d done the grocery run. “Did I thank you yet?”

“At least a dozen times,” I teased. “And for what it’s worth, I really am sorry to spring the whole ‘meet the other parent’ thing on you, but he’ll get it done way faster than we could, and he’ll do it right the first time. And Mom promised to bring food of some sort, because that’s what she does.”

“Oh hey, maybe she’ll bring that wicked breakfast thing she makes,” Jordan said gleefully.

Marcus gave him a hint of a smile that betrayed how nervous he was at the prospect of my family descending upon us. “Well, we’d better be doing that at your place. Not only is my kitchen table still in a box, it only fits two people.” There was a knock on his door, and he paled.

“I’ll go with you,” I said. I got up from the floor and offered him a hand up. “Dad’s built like a brick wall, but I promise he won’t eat you. His doctor made him lay off of devouring the innocent because they’re full of cholesterol.”

It was easy for me to tease like that, of course, but it obviously did nothing to settle Marcus’s nerves. His hand was shaking when he opened the door and came face-to-face with my father. All six foot three of him, with the width of his body basically filling the doorway. I was pretty sure I heard Marcus whisper something along the lines of “oh my God,” but I ignored it and grinned up at my father. “Hey Dad.”

My dad clapped a hand against my shoulder and grinned back. “You have a project for me?”

“Marcus does,” I said agreeably, indicating Marcus. He’d turned into a statue next to me, staring at my dad. “Sweetie, why don’t you go show Dad what you’ve got for him?”

“Um,” Marcus said. “Sure.” He let go of my hand to move back and let my father in.

“Your mother’s in the house, putting a casserole in the oven,” Dad said as he passed.

“I’ll go help her,” I said. “Be nice to him, Dad. I really like this one.”

“I won’t scare him too badly,” my father promised. “Your mother likes him too.”

I narrowed my eyes at him for a moment and then nodded and headed for the house. Dad was a bit of a prankster, so it wouldn’t have been out of the realm of possibility that he’d inadvertently traumatize poor Marcus. Hopefully he’d tone it down a little.

When I got to the kitchen I shared with Jordan, I was astounded to find that, not only was my mom there, but Brandon was as well. I wasn’t sure if I should make a big deal about it, but opted for playing it cool. “Hey Bran, hey Mom. Need help?”

“Sit down,” Brandon told me. “I want to take a look at your eye.”

I blinked at him in confusion for a moment before I pulled out a kitchen chair and sat. “It’s fine,” I told him.

“Sure it is,” Brandon said, probing around the bruise. It surprised me how gentle his fingers were. I was half expecting him to poke at the bruise just to make me squirm. “You look like shit.”

“Brandon,” our mother said warningly.

“Sorry. You look like crap.”

Brandon rolled his eyes as he said it, and I had to bite back a laugh. For a second, I thought he was going to grin back at me, but the expression was gone just as it started. I wasn’t sure if that was a good sign or not, but the fact that he almost relaxed enough to smile gave me hope that his anger was thawing. If it had anything to do with the text I sent him the night before, I’d have to thank Marcus’s sister for showing me what a bad sibling was really like.

On the other hand, that would mean I’d have to speak to her, so maybe not.

Brandon felt around my eye and asked me questions about what hurt where and how much. “You’re lucky he didn’t break your face,” he grunted.

“I know,” I said, grimacing. “I didn’t expect him to punch me, but I guess I should have.”

Brandon shrugged and headed for the door. “I’m going to go help Dad.”

When I heard the front door shut, I sighed heavily.

“It’s not you,” Mom told me softly.

I tilted my head curiously. “What do you mean?”

“It’s not you he has issues with. Not directly.” I stared at her, dumbfounded, and she smiled. “You didn’t really think I didn’t catch the comments he was making to you, did you? I’m not stupid, darling.”

“Then what’s going on with him?” I demanded. I felt kind of bad to be talking to my mother that way, but I was tired of dealing with the angry stranger who’d taken my brother’s place. “Why is he taking it out on me? Has he talked to you about it?”

Mom abandoned what she was doing—making biscuits to go with the casserole from the looks of it, so Jordan was probably going to get his wish—and joined me at the table. When she took my hand, I had to smile. Her hands may have been getting slightly wrinkled as she got older, but they were the same warm, soft hands that had soothed me since the day I was born.

“Brandon hasn’t talked to me about it,” she said softly. “But I can guess what it’s about.”

“Is this about Roddie?” I asked.

My mom paused and looked as if she wasn’t sure how to answer, then sighed. “I think Roddie was just the catalyst. Like I said, though, since your brother hasn’t spoken to me about it, I don’t know anything for certain.”

I squinted at her. “Are you psychic, then?”

“Of course,” she answered seriously. “I’m Mom.”

I couldn’t help it. I had to laugh. “You’re something else,” I said, giving her hand a fond squeeze. “Do you need help, or should I go rescue Marcus from Dad?”

“Your father will behave,” my mother assured me. “He and I have talked already. That said, feel free to go and see if your father needs more help getting things put together. He’s got more work to do than I do.”

I grinned at her, gave her hand another squeeze, and left the room.

Dad was apparently sort of behaving, because Marcus looked less terrified when I rejoined the group in his apartment. “Did you really drive a car into the freezer?” he asked when he looked up at me.

I groaned. “Dad.”

“What?” my father asked innocently as he screwed together the pieces Marcus was holding steady. “You and your mother both made it clear I couldn’t scare him.”

“That doesn’t mean you had to tell embarrassing stories about my childhood.”

“So you really did?” Marcus asked, raising an eyebrow.

I sighed, sat down on the floor, and leaned against the wall. “I was five,” I grumbled. “And it wasn’t entirely my fault.”