Read Online Riptides (Lengths) by Steph Campbell, Liz Reinhardt - Free Book Online
Authors: Steph Campbell, Liz Reinhardt
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world. It’s just one year. One. You two will be married for decades. Take this chance and go. Adam would never…” She presses her lips tight like she can’t even finish that thought.
“I know that,” Gen bites out, fisting her hands in her hair. “Damnit, I know that !” She stands up and backs away from the table. Adam swivels around to look at her, and she’s talking just to him. “I’ll miss you. Every day. To the point where I can’t think about anything else but how badly I miss you. I know it’s not like that for you, but we’re not the same, Adam. I’m not ashamed that you’re the most important thing in my life. Maybe someday I can do this, be away from you like this. But not now. Not now!”
She stomps up the stairs to her old room and we all sit tense even after the door slams shut.
“Excuse me,” Adam mumbles, nodding tightly at my parents before he beelines it to Gen’s room.
In the deafening silence they leave behind, my brother goes back to the dead horse we were all beating before Gen’s nervous breakdown and proceeds to give it a few more whacks. “Dad, Maren needs this. I need this. It’s going to be fine for the business.” Cohen takes his spoon and wields it like he wishes it was a knife——or at least a fork.
“Fine for the business,” Dad repeats under his breath. “Like any one of you has any idea how perilous it is to keep any business going.”
We collectively choose to ignore the tension buzzing around us and are in the middle of slurping lukewarm, but still delicious, soup when Maren waltzes in, dragging Whit behind her.
“Maren!” we all chorus, making her jump back and smile uncertainly, those huge baby blues taking us all in with that mix of love and trepidation most people outside the family seem to regard us with.
I love Maren, and I think this family is good for her. She’s going to need a strong backbone to be around a bunch of pushy assholes like us. Especially when she and Cohen start popping out kids.
“Um, hi!” She gives a shy wave and rushes to kiss Cohen softly. There’s this second, this quiet connection that’s like an electrical current between them, and it drowns us all out. Cohen and Maren are locked so deeply into each other, no one else exists. Damn, I’m jealous as fuck of that. “I’m so sorry I kept you all waiting. Whit and I were having the hardest time getting the people who dye the shoes to match my grandmother’s black opals.”
Mami lets out a tsk just barely under her breath.
Cohen, already keyed up from all the craziness of this whole weird lunch, jumps all over that passive aggressive tongue click. “What is it, Mom? What’s wrong now?”
“Nothing!” our mother exclaims, shaking her hands. She gestures for Whit to sit.
Whit shakes her head and tries to edge out of the crazy family drama she’s become accustomed to recognizing. She and Deo manage to show up for Rodriguez get-togethers more than I do, so she can smell Rodriguez trouble from a mile away.
But Mom ladles her a bread bowl of soup and offers it with an outstretched hand, upping the ante. Now Whit won’t just be leaving. She’ll be turning down food . Knowing what a cardinal sin that is in this funhouse, Whit takes her bowl and sits obediently.
My mother continues, “It’s just that opals are such bad luck.”
Maren blanches and folds her hands tight in her lap. Cohen pulls Maren closer. Whit seems to be considering chipping a tunnel under the table with her stiletto heel. I give her a look that lets her know I’ll be second in line if she gets an escape hatch going.
“What the hell, Mom,” Cohen hisses, draping a protective arm over Maren’s shoulders.
“ Cállate la boca! ” Dad barks, pissed that the golden son swore when he was talking to Mom.
“It’s nothing.” Mom waves her ladle at Maren, who seems to fold into herself like the saddest origami ever. “I didn’t mean to make you upset, corazon . It’s old wives tales, I’m
“I know that,” Gen bites out, fisting her hands in her hair. “Damnit, I know that !” She stands up and backs away from the table. Adam swivels around to look at her, and she’s talking just to him. “I’ll miss you. Every day. To the point where I can’t think about anything else but how badly I miss you. I know it’s not like that for you, but we’re not the same, Adam. I’m not ashamed that you’re the most important thing in my life. Maybe someday I can do this, be away from you like this. But not now. Not now!”
She stomps up the stairs to her old room and we all sit tense even after the door slams shut.
“Excuse me,” Adam mumbles, nodding tightly at my parents before he beelines it to Gen’s room.
In the deafening silence they leave behind, my brother goes back to the dead horse we were all beating before Gen’s nervous breakdown and proceeds to give it a few more whacks. “Dad, Maren needs this. I need this. It’s going to be fine for the business.” Cohen takes his spoon and wields it like he wishes it was a knife——or at least a fork.
“Fine for the business,” Dad repeats under his breath. “Like any one of you has any idea how perilous it is to keep any business going.”
We collectively choose to ignore the tension buzzing around us and are in the middle of slurping lukewarm, but still delicious, soup when Maren waltzes in, dragging Whit behind her.
“Maren!” we all chorus, making her jump back and smile uncertainly, those huge baby blues taking us all in with that mix of love and trepidation most people outside the family seem to regard us with.
I love Maren, and I think this family is good for her. She’s going to need a strong backbone to be around a bunch of pushy assholes like us. Especially when she and Cohen start popping out kids.
“Um, hi!” She gives a shy wave and rushes to kiss Cohen softly. There’s this second, this quiet connection that’s like an electrical current between them, and it drowns us all out. Cohen and Maren are locked so deeply into each other, no one else exists. Damn, I’m jealous as fuck of that. “I’m so sorry I kept you all waiting. Whit and I were having the hardest time getting the people who dye the shoes to match my grandmother’s black opals.”
Mami lets out a tsk just barely under her breath.
Cohen, already keyed up from all the craziness of this whole weird lunch, jumps all over that passive aggressive tongue click. “What is it, Mom? What’s wrong now?”
“Nothing!” our mother exclaims, shaking her hands. She gestures for Whit to sit.
Whit shakes her head and tries to edge out of the crazy family drama she’s become accustomed to recognizing. She and Deo manage to show up for Rodriguez get-togethers more than I do, so she can smell Rodriguez trouble from a mile away.
But Mom ladles her a bread bowl of soup and offers it with an outstretched hand, upping the ante. Now Whit won’t just be leaving. She’ll be turning down food . Knowing what a cardinal sin that is in this funhouse, Whit takes her bowl and sits obediently.
My mother continues, “It’s just that opals are such bad luck.”
Maren blanches and folds her hands tight in her lap. Cohen pulls Maren closer. Whit seems to be considering chipping a tunnel under the table with her stiletto heel. I give her a look that lets her know I’ll be second in line if she gets an escape hatch going.
“What the hell, Mom,” Cohen hisses, draping a protective arm over Maren’s shoulders.
“ Cállate la boca! ” Dad barks, pissed that the golden son swore when he was talking to Mom.
“It’s nothing.” Mom waves her ladle at Maren, who seems to fold into herself like the saddest origami ever. “I didn’t mean to make you upset, corazon . It’s old wives tales, I’m
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