Page 83 of Cuffed (Everyday Heroes 1)
“Very nice to meet you, Luke. Is that your dog?” I shake his hand.
“No. That’s Poppy’s. He’s big and slobbery and nice. His name is Moose and right now, he has one of my Pokémon cards in his mouth, and it’s a Pikachu—a really good one—so I need to go get it back before he eats it.”
Before I can say another word, he zooms out of the kitchen like his pants are on fire, leaving me with the glass of white wine Betsy’s holding out to me and Grant eager to properly introduce me to the rest of the crew.
“See? That right there,” Grant says with a laugh, “is why neither of you two bast—jerks have a girlfriend.”
“This coming from the authority on women,” Grayson says with a roll of his eyes.
My cheeks hurt from smiling so much, which tells me it was the right decision to come here with Grant. It had been against my better judgment, but obviously, I was wrong.
Luke is lying on his back on the grass about twenty feet away from us, Moose curled up next to him and dwarfing the five-year-old in size. The little boy seems to be talking to himself while he makes up stories about the aliens in the stars above him. I smile as I think of how many adventures I had in this backyard. It’s the one place that holds one hundred percent positive memories for me, and that isn’t easy to find.
“How’s your studying going?” Betsy asks Grant, seemingly oblivious to the brief meeting of the eyes between Grant and his father.
“Good. I’m as ready as can be, but you know how it goes, there’s always politics involved,” he replies.
“Just remember, sometimes the high road can mean lying low,” Chief Malone murmurs, piquing my interest.
“Once an asshole, always an asshole,” Grayson chimes in, and I get the sense they are all talking about someone in particular, I just have no idea who. Even more peculiar is Betsy’s lack of a reprimand over Grayson’s comment, since over the course of dinner, most curse words were met with her rebuke.
No one can say this family doesn’t have each other’s backs.
“I have stronger words than that—”
“But you have a lady present,” Betsy interrupts and gives Grant a warning glare.
“Yes, ma’am.” Grant makes a show of looking properly reprimanded, which has his brothers snickering.
“Competition is healthy when going for a promotion,” she says in the most motherly of tones, “even if that competition is a self-serving prick.”
Everyone’s eyes widen as they look back and forth at each other to make sure their mother really just said that before bursting out into laughter over her unexpected comment.
“You have a lady present,” Grant mimics her.
“Yes, well, I’m sure Emmy’s heard those terms before, haven’t you, dear?” She pats my hand and smiles wider.
“So, Emerson,” Chief Malone says. “Grant tells me you are buying Blue Skies out at Miner’s Airfield.”
“I’m trying to,” I say. “After traveling for so long, it’s finally time to put some roots down. It’s been an adjustment staying in one place for this long, but it’s a good change. Blue Skies has been neglected for a while now so I’m enjoying breathing life back into it. Now I just can’t wait to make it mine. Fingers and toes crossed I get loan approval.”
“You always were up for a challenge,” Betsy says as she puts another piece of chocolate cake on my plate without my having to ask. “Eat up. You always loved dessert . . . but jumping out of airplanes? Really?”
There’s something about the way she references how I used to be with such nonchalance that makes it ring in my ears. When Grant mentioned the same thing at Desi’s, it made me uneasy. He was revealing a small part of my past to people unfamiliar with it. But this, Betsy bringing it up in the one place that was my safe haven, feels different to me. It’s almost comforting to know I existed to someone when I was a child and that they remember me. Moving on a whim and living like a gypsy, often doesn’t afford you that feeling.
“Emerson subscribes to the living-safely-is-dangerous theory,” Grant interjects as he bumps his knee against mine beneath the table.
“Well, if you’re with that asshole”—Grady gestures to Grant—“then you definitely like to live dangerously. He isn’t known to be one who sticks around longer than the quick—”
“Grady Malone,” Betsy warns in that tone that brings a smile to my lips. “You know better than to talk that way when someone brings a guest over. Your father and I did not raise unmannerly heathens.”
“Sorry, Mom,” he says with no sincerity before looking at me. “See? Nothing has changed. We still bicker constantly like we did when we were kids. We’re just older and the insults are more brutal.”
That’s the first time our collective past has been put out there in the open, causing an uncomfortable silence. Luckily, I’ve had enough wine that the mention doesn’t trip me up like it might have if I were completely sober.
“Is it sad that I remember that? The names you used to call each other and how when your mom called you by your full name, it meant you really were in trouble,” I say to try to ease the unspoken tension. “Being an only child, I never had to deal with that. The flip side was I couldn’t blame something on someone else either so my mom always knew if I was at fault.”
“How is your mom doing, Emerson?” the chief asks, and Grant tenses beside me.
