“Most nurses do,” I remind her.
“What about a school nurse? They get holidays off.”
“It would be nice, but I’d be taking a pay cut and the school already has a nurse.” I hold up my hand. “I don’t want this to take away from this weekend, okay?”
“Of course, honey,” Mom says, knowing that I mean more than just taking the fun out of the weekend. I don’t want to talk about it, and I don’t need pity. Mom goes back to getting me coffee and I go into the living room, where my brothers are watching TV.
Sam sees me first and stands, smile on his face, and crosses the room, wrapping me in a hug.
“It’s good to see you, sis.”
“You too. It’s been too long. You need to come visit more. It’s only a four-hour drive.”
“Only.” Sam laughs and lets me go. “How’s life in the OR?”
“You owe me twenty bucks,” Mason says to Jacob. “They didn’t even make it thirty seconds before brining up the OR,” he says in a voice meant to mock Sam. I turn, scowling at Mason, but it’s hard to be mad at my brother when I haven’t seen him in months.
“How’s the knee?” I ask, changing the subject. Mason got injured chasing down a criminal and is supposed to be taking it easy until he heals, and he’s not dealing with the time away from the action well. As an FBI agent, he’s not allowed to tell us details of what happened, only that whoever he tackled was wanted internationally. “It’s fine.” He rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “I should be out there back on the case—”
“And now you owe me twenty bucks,” Jacob tells Sam, and then looks at me. “Wanna guess how many times we’ve heard this story since he’s gotten here?”
“At least three,” I say and step over to the coffee table, grabbing a handful of popcorn. “But it’s good to hear you’re doing well, Mason. We were all worried you’d gotten shot or something.”
“Shot at,” he says casually. “But they missed. They’ve all missed…so far.”
I sit on the couch, carefully scooping up Cookie, a large gray cat who Jacob nursed back to health his first year as a vet. The poor thing was found nearly frozen to death in the snow, with her long fur matted together in clumps of ice.
“I have to finish up alterations for a client,” Mom says, walking through the living room. “Then I’ll start dinner before Dad comes home. Nana is napping in the guest room, so try to keep it down. Physical therapy wore her out.”
“How’s she doing?” Sam asks. Nana had a hip replaced not that long ago, but it hasn’t slowed her down.
“Wonderfully, though I think she wears the staff out just as much as they wear her out,” Mom laughs. “She has her PT in stitches by the time I pick her up.” Mom stops before going into her sewing room, looking around the living room with tears in her eyes. “It’s so good to have you all home.”
A bit of guilt bubbles up inside of me. This is a happy weekend, celebrating forty-five years of marriage. My parents were high school sweethearts and got married only days after graduation. I don’t want to be a damper on anyone’s mood with my string of bad luck.
I grab another handful of popcorn and eat it piece by piece, trying to focus on whatever my brothers are watching, which turns out to be a documentary on serial killers.
“How’s that guy…Matt? No…Mike? Yeah. Mike,” Jacob asks, reaching for the bowl of popcorn. “He coming tomorrow?”
“No, he is not.” I run my fingers over Cookie’s soft fur. “We’re not together anymore.” As much as I told myself it was okay, that I wasn’t emotionally invested, my words sting.
I’m struggling not to take it personally. My throat feels thick and tears pool in my eyes.
“What did that asshole do?” Mason asks, looking like he’s ready to jump up, get in his car and drive to Mike’s house and start throwing punches. We’re only eighteen months apart, and while I couldn’t stand him most of my youth, he’s always had my back.
“Nothing,” I sigh. “Nothing I can get really mad about, well, except that he kind of manipulated me into sleeping with him one last time before breaking up with me.” I blink away the tears and refocus my energy on the sense of freedom I have now.
“He what?” Jacob’s brows go up. “Where does this fucker live?”
“Guys, chill. He didn’t want anything serious, and I can’t fault him for that. Though it would have been nice to know before I wasted six fucking months with him.”
“I’m sorry,” Sam says, and I know he means it. “The guy’s an idiot.”
“Thanks.” I let out a heavy sigh and watch crime scene photos play out on the TV.