Ready or Knot (Knotted Paths #1) - Susi Hawke Page 0,3

I was fluent in Shelby-speak, especially when she was insulting me.

“Shelby!” Mom admonished. “Don’t call your brother that.”

“What? A knot head?” No one could match the brightness of Shelby’s wide, contagious smile. I winked at her, hiding my laughter as she pushed Mom’s buttons. “But he is.”

“Technically,” I said, “the knot is at the base of—”

“Children!” Mom’s outrage sent us into snickers. “That is not appropriate dinner-table talk.”

“What table is it appropriate for?” Shelby dropped her spoon, and Mom instinctively leaned forward to help her, then forced herself to sit back and let Shelby handle it herself.

“None. It’s not appropriate table talk. It’s not appropriate talk at all.”

I plugged the sink and filled it with warm water. “We’re all adults now, Mom. I think the table can handle a couple off-color jokes now and then.”

“Maybe the table can, but I can’t. I don’t care if you’re both almost thirty. You’re still my babies.”

Shelby grimaced. That comment dug into deep wounds for her. There were only two years between us, but Shelby had been “the baby” in more ways than one. Her cerebral palsy made a lot of people think she was helpless. Even Mom acted that way without thinking, sometimes—but I had noticed when she’d stepped back and let Shelby feed herself. I was proud of Mom for working on that. And even prouder of Shelby for standing up for herself a few months ago, telling Mom to back off.

“What’s for dessert?” I asked to shift the conversation. The sink was half full of water and soap bubbles now. I slid the dirty dishes in to soak.

“Dessert? You think I make dessert every night? It’s not good for you. It rots your teeth.”

Shelby laughed. “You make dessert every night Jordan comes.”

“What if I didn’t this time? Do you think your mother is so predictable?”

“Yes,” Shelby and I said at the same time.

I picked up the sponge and wrinkled my nose. It was falling apart. “Do you have any fresh sponges?”

Mom pointed to her cleaning cabinet at the end of the counter. “There should be a couple new ones in there. And you might as well grab the pudding out of the fridge while you’re at it.”

“Ha! I knew there was dessert!” Of course I went for the treats first. “And butterscotch. My favorite. You’re not spoiling me, are you, Mom?”

“How can I spoil a grown man? I already spoiled you when you were a child. The damage is done.”

I put two of the preprepared bowls on the table, sliding them away from Shelby.

“Hey! Where’s mine?”

“Are you ready for it?”

“No, I just want to make sure you don’t steal it after you finish your bowl.”

I shook my head in disbelief. “Shelby, when have I ever stolen your food?”

When she rolled her eyes, her whole head followed, her overdramatic reaction matching my false innocence. “When haven’t you?”

“I haven’t stolen a single bite from your plate tonight.”

“Yet.”

I grabbed some clean spoons and settled in to enjoy my pudding. “Someone’s feeling sassy.”

“Speaking of sassy… are you going to tell him now?” Mom looked about ready to burst with whatever news she was holding inside. “Shelby has amazing news!”

Mid-bite, I set down my spoon. “What? Why are you holding back? I want to hear.”

Shelby finished chewing before she spoke. “Because you’re grumpy when you’re hangry. I didn’t want you to spoil it.”

I honestly couldn’t argue. “I’m not hangry now. So spill.”

An impish expression crossed my little sister’s face. “I sold a piece to the New Yorker.”

Mom clapped excitedly, and my mouth dropped open. “Shut up. For real?”

“For real.”

Mom hurried to the counter and grabbed a piece of paper. “Look! I had her print the acceptance letter. I want to frame it.”

“Mom.”

I jumped up, pudding forgotten, and circled the table to hug my sister. “Shelbs, that’s amazing! You’re amazing. I’m going to buy so many copies when it comes out and give them to everyone we know.”

“Don’t you dare.” Shelby smiled at me.

I couldn’t process all of the emotions swelling in my chest. So many people had told Shelby she needed to settle. That her disability would limit what she could do, what she could accomplish. At times, I’d almost believed them. But Shelby never had. She was so determined to do. To be. To live. And she was doing it.

Dinner with my family always lifted my spirits, but tonight was special. There was a lightness to the air, almost like we weren’t at full gravity. Mom’s constant exhaustion slipped away, my worries about the two