You’re Mine by Penny Brooks novel Chapter 134

Chapter 134
Harper
Easton and Dad return from the patio and Easton looks like he's seen a ghost.

Or an entire colony or paranormal creatures.

He's pale and sweaty and I feel terrible for him.

I can't believe Dad hauled him outside.

Well, I can, but I can't imagine what he said to him.

Part of me wants to ask Easton when we get a minute alone, and part of me would rather never know to save myself the embarrassment.

“Are you all right?"

I whisper the moment he's at my side.

"No."

He wipes his forehead.

"I'll never recover from that conversation.

Ever."

I glance at my dad who's now standing next to my mom as she adds dressing to the salad.

The two of them smiling at each other, like they just checked the final item off their list.

"Was it that bad?"

“Let's put it this way ..."

He glances toward the oven.

“If there are buns in there, baking, don't serve me one."

He adjusts his shirt and I see the sweat marks under his arms.

"In fact, I don't know if I'll ever eat another bun again."

Oh God.

It was THAT bad.

"I'm going to go add ice to the water glasses,"

I declare, and quickly fill a large bowl with cubes and carry it into the dining room, Easton on my heels.

When I get us out of ear range, I say softly, "What did he say to you?"

He holds onto the back of a chair.

"Oh, he covered it all—birth control, pregnancy, not being allowed in your room or touching you under his roof, you going to college, dropping out of college because of me."

He pauses.

"I think I've covered most of it."

"I think I'm going to be sick."

He shakes his head.

"That makes two of us."

I drop the ice into the glasses and move over to him.

He immediately takes a step back.

And then another.

“Easton?"

"I don't want him to think anything is happening in here."

"Seriously?"

I place the bowl on the table.

"It's like that?* He nods.

"You weren't out there ...

you have no idea."

"Ugh."

I want to kill my father, but I can't.

"Graduation can't come fast enough."

Except ...

do I really mean that?

Easton will be off to college.

I will be, too.

What if those places aren't anywhere near each other?

“Harper, the lasagna is done, can you grab it from the oven?"

my mother calls from the kitchen.

It's like she stopped hearing the clink of ice being put in the glasses and no longer wants us alone together.

This is already getting old.

"Be right back,"

I tell Easton and I hurry into the kitchen, grabbing the mitts before I reach into the oven.

Dad is mysteriously gone, and Mom is cutting and plating the garlic bread.

“Mom?"

She glances up, the knife still in her hand.

“Mmm—hmm?"

I don't know how to say this, but I need to say something.

“Easton has gotten the wrath from Dad.

Can we...

I don't know ...

make a promise to move on and never mention"—I nod toward the living room where the Christmas tree sits —"that again?"

She sets the knife down, the noise making a clank against the counter.

"Do you really think you're in a position to negotiate?"

She puts her hands on her hips.

"You just got off thin ice, young lady.

You have your phone back.

I'm not breathing down your neck every time you leave this house.

Don't push it, you hear me?"

I take that back, I don’t care where we end up, graduation needs to happen right now.

“Mmm-—hmm,’ I answer, giving her a taste of her own verbal medicine.

“We've armrrrived, Ryan shouts from the front door, in a sing—song way.

Relief suddenly floods through me.

I look toward the entryway of the kitchen, where Easton is standing, he mouths, “Thank fucking God,’ telling me he feels the same way.

“You're late,"

I say, punching my brother in the arm as he joins us in the kitchen.

"Blame Sadie, she was being naughty."

“Ryan!"

Sadie shouts, her face turning red.

"He's lying!"

I look toward Mom and she's smiling, hugging Ryan hello, not an ounce of anger on her face.

Of course, she doesn't get upset by what Ryan said.

He's a son.

Christmas tree shenanigans don't apply to him.

Ugh.

Again.

“How's it going?"

Sadie whispers as she hugs me.

“Easton looks like he's about to raid your parents’ liquor cabinet."

"I'm surprised he hasn't yet."

"That good, huh?"

"If you didn't show up soon, I was going to have to fake an illness or drop the lasagna or set the kitchen sink on fire— something, anything."

She pulls out of our hug, giggling.

"I'm glad you didn't.

You're a horrible liar and not exactly a professional arsonist.

Your parents would end up grounding you for life and the next time you'd see Easton, you'd be his neighbor in some old— ass assisted living place."

I start laughing at the thought.

So does Sadie.

And the whole build—up of tonight and all the anxiousness I've been feeling makes me laugh even harder.

“What's so funny?"

Ryan asks.

I know Mom's looking at us and Easton is glaring from the entryway, obviously too spooked to come any closer in fear that we'll be less than six feet apart.

“Nothing,"

I tell Ryan.

He wraps his arms around Sadie's waist.

“Doesn't sound like nothing to me."

“You're finally here,’ my father says as he walks in, rubbing his hands together before he picks up the wine glass he left on the counter.

"Hmmm,"

he says, lifting the glass into the air, inspecting it.

"Did I drink all of this?

I swear it was half full before I went upstairs."

I feel like all eyes are on me, so I say, “It wasn't me."

“I didn't touch it,’ Easton says, his hands up, like he's being arrested.

Ryan walks over to our father and puts his arm around his shoulders.

"It was me.

The wine was looking a little lonely and I decided to sample it."

“Lonely, seriously?"

I inquire.

"A half of a glass ...

gets lonely?"

I can't wait to hear this.

Ryan smiles, lifting the bottle to refill Dad's glass.

“Yeah, and it's a good thing I was here to keep it company."

He pats his stomach.

"I'm starving, let's eat."

Mom shakes her head, rolling her eyes.

"Oh, Ryan."

Oh, Ryan?

OH, RYAN?

That's all she's going to say?

I can't even with my parents.

With Ryan getting away with drinking and naughtiness and grabbing Sadie.

While my poor boyfriend looks like he's about to give birth through his dick.

“Does that mean I can have a glass?"

I ask.

“No!"

both of my parents say at the same time.

What.

The ever loving.

Fuck.

Mom points at the lasagna.

"Bring that into the dining room, Harper, and pour water into the glasses you just filled with ice.

It's time to eat."

I put my hands through the mitts and as I'm passing Sadie onto the way to the dining room, I whisper, "You better have brought edibles for dessert."