Page 13 of You Fall First

“Babe is in the den,” I tell her. “With all the offspring.”

“Can I get you anything, dear? Water? Lemonade?”

Kendal smiles at her sweetly. “Sun tea would be amazing. If you have any.”

“We always have sun tea.”

“Wow, Ken.” I chuckle. “What does it feel like to be waited on like a queen?”

“You live here full-time, Jojo.” My mother folds her arms over her chest. “And Kendal is⁠—”

“A guest?” I suggest.

“Tired,” my mom says.

Kendal snorts. “Gee, thanks, Mom.”

“You know what I mean.” She purses her lips. “Raising three kids is exhausting. The least I can do is offer tea.”

I drop onto the couch next to Kendal. “If I get knocked up three times, do I get to live the cush life?”

“Cush life?” Kendal squawks.

My smile goes crooked. “Kidding, ladies. Kidding. I’m well aware that parenthood is the hardest job in the universe.”

My mother tips her chin. “Speaking of jobs⁠—”

“I’m pretty thirsty actually,” Kendal interrupts. She clears her throat, then she meets my gaze and lifts a brow. A look passes between us. I wrinkle my nose in response. It’s a whole conversation without moving our actual mouths.

“Well.” My mother purses her lips. “I’ll just grab that tea then, and let you two continue talking with your eyeballs.”

She bustles back into the kitchen, and Kendal waits until she’s out of earshot to lean in close. “I wanted to check if you’ve told Mom and Dad yet,” she whispers. “About the job. Or the move.”

“I’m waiting for dinner,” I say under my breath. “With any luck, having their grandkids here will distract from the fact that my future employment plan doesn’t exactly utilize my degree.”

“Either of your degrees, you mean.”

This makes me wince. “Please don’t point that out tonight.”

“Hey. At least you’re not planning to go back to school to get your PhD. You could be living at home for the rest of your life.”

“Right?” I hoist my mouth into a smile. “Silver linings abound.”

“That’s what sisters are for,” she says. “Silver linings and moral support.”

“Be honest. You’re really here for Mom’s bolognese.”

Kendal shrugs. “A little from column A, and a little from column B. But mostly column you.”

“You’re such a mom,” I say. “But thank you.”

A knock sounds at the door, and Kendal’s hand flies up, touching one finger to her nose. “Not it!”

“No one has to get the door, Ken.” I frown. “I left it unlocked.”

Seconds pass, but no one enters. Then there’s another knock.

“You’re not the king of England, Dex,” I call out. “Just let yourself in!”