Page 49 of The Pact
Either way, I can’t commit.
She sees the answer before anything comes out of my mouth. Which makes me feel guilty as fuck.
“Savannah…”
“It’s okay,” she waves me off. “I know there’s a chance you might make the playoffs.”
“I just don’t know where we’ll be, you know?”
“Wyatt, you don’t have to explain. I know the routine.”
“You know I want to say, yes, right?” I set my cup down and put my hand on her shoulder.
“I know.”
“I mean it. I would absolutely say yes, if I could.”
“I just wanted to ask because …” she says, then stops.
“What?”
She exhales. “I don’t really want to leave them with Chris’s parents for that long if we don’t have to.”
I frown. “Why not?”
“They love the kids,” she says quickly. “They do. Evelyn and Dennis are good people. But they don’t respect our rules and boundaries. Like, at all. And they’re dismissive when Chris tries to talk to them about it, playing it off as just wanting to spoil their grandkids. I get it, but every time the kids stay with them, they come home wild, and I’m the one who has to get them back on their routines.”
I glance out the window, watching Rhyan wave a stick like a sword. “Define wild.”
“Well, the last time, Remy came home asking for sweet tea before bed, and was trying to convince me that veggies were optional because Grandma said that childhood should be magical. And apparently, magic doesn’t include broccoli or proper nutrition for a growing boy.”
I blink. “Okay, and?”
“And Rhyan had watched three dragon movies in a row and insisted she would no longer answer to her name. Only Empress Flameclaw. It took weeks before she moved on. Oh, and ice cream was a replacement for dinner.”
I press my lips together, trying to hold my laugh.
“Don’t you dare laugh,” she warns.
“I didn’t. Can’t blame a girl for having a strong personality… and a sweet tooth.” I hold up my hands.
“She also didn’t want to wear pants for two days.”
That’s it. I can’t hold it. I let out a full-belly laugh, and my sister slaps my arm.
“It’s not funny.”
“It’s a little funny.”
“Not funny at preschool drop-off when I’m fighting with her in the car to put some pants on. Or even just a pair of little shorts.”
I try to stop laughing. “I mean, she’s just exercising her free will.”
“Wyatt.”
“Sorry.” I cover my mouth with my hand.
Her mouth twitches despite herself.
