to know him better since he’s watched movies at our place a bunch, bringing pizza, beer, and acquiescing to our love of romantic dramas and comedies. At first he fought us, but now thinks it’s funny how smooshy-gooshy we get during the good parts. Gage joked that since we freak out so much, it’s more fun to watch us than the movies.
Tonight, as Ryder pours into the last two mugs from an amber-filled pitcher, I’m very aware that Zoe isn’t gazing at him like she normally does ever since he arrived in our lives.
They both seem tense tonight.
Answering the wrong question in my eyes, Sammy says, “We emptied the first pitcher.”
“Ah.”
“Five people.”
“Right.”
Nathan separates darts into groups of two colors, as his brother returns a text on his phone and shouts, “The second of many pitchers to come!”
I grin, having looked forward to this so much. It’s the perfect kind of night — easy-going darts with my family and my casual lover.
Gage jumped at the invite.
You invited Brad.
He never came.
You always wanted this.
A cool guy who liked darts.
To introduce to your family.
Shut up!
Wyatt announces, “It’s a matter of principle, Nate!” tapping away at his screen while apparently resuming an argument they’d began before we arrived.
Nathan volleys back, “You going first isn’t a principle. It’s something older siblings made up to dominate those of us who had no choice about when we were born.”
“I had no choice about when I was born, either!”
“Then don’t lord it over me.”
“I’m going first,” Wyatt mutters, distracted by the text message he’s working on, “Get it through your thick skull. I’m older than you. It’s my right.”
So Nathan throws the first dart.
Wyatt’s head snaps up from his phone, staring at the bullseye. “What the fuck?!”
Nathan wraps a calloused hand around his mug. “Pay attention to the game and you won’t be left behind.”
We clap. For all the reasons.
“And a fucking bullseye, too, no less!” Wyatt shoves his phone into blue jeans pockets, grumbling, “You sonofabitch.”
Zoe cries out, “You can’t say he’s the son of a bitch because that means you and I are also the spawns of one and we aren’t!”
Wyatt side-eyeballs her. “She can be one sometimes.”
Her eyes go wide.
Nathan hits his shoulder.
Wyatt throws it off, in fun, and readies his shot, admitting, “She’s never one. I was only kidding. Nathan, watch this bad boy go. I’m gonna knock your bullseye out.” He throws but gets a pathetic twenty points. “Dammit!”
Ralphie calls over, “That bad, huh, Wyatt?”
“I’ll get him back!”
While the brothers continue playing, I describe our family to Gage. Just a couple sentence-long summaries of each person. Sammy and Zo offer details they think are necessary. He won’t remember most of it since there are a whopping seventeen of us descended from six very different brothers.
Gage chuckles, “You’ve got a bigger family than I realized.”
“We’re even leaving out a bunch of names.”
“How is that possible?”
“Our cousins are having kids now, too, so the increase isn’t addition. It’s multiplication.”
Sammy grins, “Says the accountant,” before gulping her beer.
Ryder pulls over a barstool, offers it to Zoe. She declines, and he leaves it open, standing with us. “You have siblings, Gage? Or are you solo like me?”
“I had a sister.”
Wyatt and Nate glance over, game suspended at the use of past tense.
Had.
He had a sister.
They have one.
She’s so protected it’s annoying, because they love her that much.
With respect leathering his tone, Wyatt asks, “You lose her when you were kids?”
“No.” Gage clears his throat. “It was just over a year ago.”
Wyatt twirls the dart in his hand, gaze rising from it. “Sorry, man.”
Also quieted with respect, Nathan offers, “Sorry to hear that, Gage. I can’t imagine how that’s gotta hurt.”
Ryder lifts his mug. “What was her name?”
“Heather.”
“To Heather. May she be happy and free where she is now.”
I blink at the compassionate accuracy of Ryder’s toast. We raise our mugs, nearly unanimously combining it, “To Heather’s happiness,” save for sweet Zoe who whispers last, “To her peace.”
I slide gentle fingers down Gage’s back. “You guys are really dragging out this game. What the fuck!? We wanna play doubles with you starting right now!”
Sammy joins in, fake appalled to cry out, “No way! That means Zoe and I are out another game!”
Ryder adds even more levity by throwing up his arms and looking like a lost puppy. “What about me?!”
Samantha zips her toned arm through beer-scented air. “Whichever of you two wins, pairs up with me. We’ll play Lexi and Gage.” She jogs a thumb. “Then winners of