“You’re three years older than me, Rush. Since when does that make you the expert on relationships and life?”
“I’m just telling you how I see it.”
I scowled. “Well, no one asked for your opinion. You don’t know anything about the situation.”
“Maybe you should tell me then.”
“So, what, we’re going to start having heart-to-hearts now? Why don’t you tell me about your life? Who’s the new mystery girl?”
“Mystery girl?”
“I’m not stupid,” I said. “You slink out of here at odd hours and never say where you’re going. You’re so eager to comment on my love life, but you’re keeping your own a secret.”
Rush didn’t say anything for a long time, so long that I expected him to get up and leave the room. Instead, he cleared his throat. “She has a kid. She doesn’t want him to know that we’re dating until we’re sure it’s serious.”
“Oh,” I said, certain I wasn’t hiding my surprise well. Surprise that Rush was dating someone with a child and that he’d admitted it to me.
“Her kid is in the football league I coach. That’s how I met Shawna. We only see each other after her son is asleep or when he’s at his dad’s house. And to tell you the truth, I don’t know how Mom and Dad would feel about the whole thing. So for now, it’s easier to keep it to myself.”
I felt closer to my brother than I had in years. “That’s, you know, very cool of you. To stick with her even though it’s complicated.”
“Well, she’s really great. Down to earth. Even you’ll like her.”
I felt like I had to share my story after that, which was probably the whole point of Rush’s confession. Except Rush wasn’t the sneaky or malicious type, so maybe not. “Enzo and I aren’t dating, so you know. But I kind of like him. I think he likes me too.”
Rush leaned over and ruffled my hair, which he hadn’t done since I was about ten. “Just be careful, OK?”
“Does this mean I have your approval or whatever?”
He hesitated. “I’m not going to say I approve. But I want you to be happy.”
“Enzo makes me happy.”
“Good.” Rush gave Enzo’s painting another long look before heading for the door. “So should I tell Mom you’re eating here?”
“Sure.”
He hesitated in the doorway.
“What?” I asked.
“There’s no good way to ask this.”
“That’s a terrible way to start into a question.”
“It’s just… Do you really think you like Enzo, or are you just trying to one-up Lizzie?”
I stared at my brother, trying to decide if I was angry or insulted or if I even cared at all. But before I could figure it out, Mom called to us from the kitchen, wanting to know if we were eating or not.
? ? ?
My dad grimaced every time he took a bite.
“Honestly, James,” my mom said. “It tastes like turkey.”
“I don’t understand why we can’t have the real thing. You want to buy organic, fine. We’ll spend the extra money. That doesn’t mean we need to be vegan.”
“CJ eats raw,” I said. “Just be happy Mom hasn’t gone that far.”
“Who’s CJ?” my dad asked.
“One of the hippies. The one with the long hair who thinks he’s Jesus.”
“That could be any of them,” my dad said.
My mom sighed. “You could try to get to know them. The kids have.”
The truth was my mom was right about dinner. You almost couldn’t tell that we were eating tofu or whatever it was. But I wasn’t going to side with her and leave my dad hanging. Instead, I listened to them bicker and eventually zoned out.
I thought about the conversation I’d just had with Rush and how it was sort of obnoxious but also sort of nice. I entertained the idea of confiding in him. I could pull him aside after dinner, tell him about how Enzo had kissed me, and blurt out everything that kiss made me think and feel. Rush would make jokes, and he might even say upsetting things about how he didn’t like Enzo. But he would listen. He would care. And that might make all the other stuff worth it.
“Hawthorn? Are you with us?”
“Huh? Sorry.”
“I asked how work is,” my dad said.
“Fine. Boring. But better than working at a fast-food place, I guess.”
“Have you taken your car to the mechanic?” he asked.
“Not yet.”
“Wasn’t that the point of you getting the job?”
I shrugged. “I’ll get to it. I’ve been busy.”
My dad frowned but switched his attention to Rush. They talked about football for a while, and I zoned out again until someone said Lizzie Lovett’s name.
“What about Lizzie?” I asked.
Rush rolled his eyes.
“There was an article in the paper today,” my mom said. “An interview with the police chief talking about not giving up on cold cases.”
“They’re wasting their time. She’s long gone, one way or another,” Rush said.
“You don’t know that,” I said.
“I know as much about it as anyone else.”
“Bullshit.”
My parents exchanged a glance, and just like that, their argument over tofu was forgotten, and they were united against Rush and me, alert and ready to prevent a fight at the dinner table.