Father gave me a narrow-eyed look as I patted my stomach.
“Mine’s fucking delicious.”
His eyebrow arched. “Do we curse at the dinner table now?”
I set my fork down, crossed my arms over my chest, and pinned him with a look. “I guess I do, yeah. Gonna kick me out, Dad?”
He hated when I called him that.Uncouth,he’d said.
His lip curled in disgust, but when Rebecca pushed through the serving kitchen door with another batch of crusty yeast rolls fresh out of the oven, his features smoothed out. She’d been with our family for over a decade, so I wasn’t as close to her as my sister was, given that I was a junior in high school when Rebecca started. But even those couple years at home, I gravitated to the kitchen as much as Analise, simply because we both sought out her warm, soothing presence.
Her hair was more silver than blond now and her steps a little bit slower, but the woman was an absolute dream in the kitchen. On death row, I’d ask for her lasagna and garlic bread as my last meal.
“More bread,” she said, setting the plate right by Analise with a tiny wink that my father couldn’t see.
My sister beamed. “Thank you, Rebecca. It smells delicious.”
“You’re welcome, honey.”
Father cleared his throat—a sharp, piercing sound. “She has a name, Rebecca,” he drawled. “Do try using it.”
I caught Rebecca’s eye and gave her an encouraging nod, just before her face slipped into a mask of deference when she turned to my father. “Is there anything else you need, sir?”
“Yes.” My father tugged at the sleeves of his starched white oxford. Even at dinner with his family, he couldn’t fucking relax. He set his hand on the silver-rimmed bone china plate in front of him and pushed it away. “When I ask for medium rare, I expect medium rare. Try again. I pay you an ungodly amount to get this right, Rebecca.”
Her eyes were downcast immediately as she picked up the discarded plate, the flush of her cheeks giving away her embarrassment. “Yes, sir.”
There might have been a time, even recently, when I kept my mouth shut and let him treat the staff like shit because it was easier to just let the tempest pass.
Maybe those rocks in my gut were finally thawing, because it wasn’t very difficult to push away from the table with an angry screech of the chair legs against the hardwood floor.
“For God’s sake, Archer,” my father muttered.
Analise gave me a confused look. “Where are you going?”
“Home.” I picked up my plate and handed it to Rebecca. “Can I please get this to go? It’s far too delicious to waste.”
She smiled gratefully. “Of course.”
Analise’s face drooped in disappointment. “You’re leaving already? We hardly had time to talk.”
Sometimes I thought the only reason I could carry on a decent conversation at all was because of my little sister. Born when I was ten, Analise had been my shadow until I moved out. She wanted to know everything—insatiable curiosity paired with a healthy dose of loneliness from being the only one left at the house with Dad. I called her every day on my way home from the facilities.
What she didn’t know about yet, and I suspected she’d grill me about at the first chance, was my community service. I thought about trying to explain Remi to her without giving myself away, and winced internally.
Gently, I nudged her shoulder. “Want to come with?” I asked. “You don’t have school tomorrow. You can stay over if you want—”
She was halfway out of her seat before I’d even finished speaking. “Yes.”
“No,” my father snapped. “She has tutoring tomorrow morning at eight. Which you wouldn’t need if you’d figure out how to focus on your schoolwork and get the grades I expect from the Evans name.”
“Shit,” Analise muttered under her breath.
“I see the language in this family is an epidemic.” He pulled the linen napkin away from his lap, plucking at an invisible piece of lint after it was folded in front of him. “I think maybe less time with your brother is in order, until he can remember his manners.”
I had fantasies—deep fantasies—about what it would feel like to knock his veneers out with my fist.
Dipping so I could see her face, I waited until Analise finally looked up. “Text me when you’re done tomorrow. I’ll pick you up and we can go do something.”