Before We Fall by Courtney Cole

can guarantee that I’ve got more patience than she does.
    As they walk up the steps into the house, Mom turns her head and drops the sack she’s carrying as soon as she sees me. She runs toward me like she hasn’t seen me in a year. It’s only been a few months, but you’d think it was an eternity by the way she barrels into me and clutches me tight. Her head barely reaches my sternum, but she buries it there, her hands clasped behind me.
    “Dominic James Kinkaide,” she scolds. “You’ve been away too long this time. You’re getting too thin. You’re not eating.”
    She looks up at me, her blue eyes snapping. “You get yourself inside and wash up. Dinner’s in thirty minutes, and you’re going to eat everything I put on your plate.”
    She marches ahead of me, trying to pretend that she’s angry and not happy to see me. But her eyes betray her, because when she stops to let me open the door for her, they’re warm.
    “It’s about time you came home,” she tells me as she walks past. “Go see your father. He’s in the library.”
    Fiona ignores me so I ignore her, walking past her into the long hall that leads to the library that serves as my dad’s study. When I round the doorway, I find him staring out the window, a glass of scotch in his hand.
    “Hey, Dad,” I greet him quietly. “Can I get one of those?”
    My father turns his head and smiles at me, his temples a little grayer than the last time I was home.
    “Hey, Dom. Sure, help yourself. It’ll put hair on your chest.”
    I chuckle because it’s the same thing he always says and help myself to a glass. The fiery liquid burns a trail down into my gut and I down the entire thing, then pour another.
    “What happened the other night?” Dad asks without preamble. “You can’t go around assaulting people. I don’t care how pissed you are.”
    I shrug. “I just found out that Fiona’s dating Cris. I don’t appreciate it and I told her so.”
    Dad raises an eyebrow. “And then you showed Cris with your fists? I always told you, Dom… I don’t want you to start things. You can always finish them, but don’t start them.”
    I shake my head and set my glass down. “Cris started this long ago, Dad. And there’s going to come a point where I need to finish it. For real.”
    My father levels his green gaze at me. “You ever going to tell us what the hell happened with you two? He spent almost as much time here growing up as you did. If there’s something I need to know, I’d appreciate knowing it.”
    My gut tightens.
    It’s not that I don’t want to tell them. It’s that I can’t. I can’t fucking talk about it. Every time I try, the words freeze in my chest and they won’t pass my tongue. They’re just too fucking ugly to say.
    My father raises an eyebrow. “Well?”
    I shake my head. “It’s between him and me. If Fiona doesn’t want to listen, that’s her problem.”
    Dad rolls his eyes and downs his whiskey. “I thought you’d say that. I’m sure you’ll be happy to know that he’s coming tonight. We didn’t know
you
were or we wouldn’t have invited him.”
    I stare at him dumbly. I shouldn’t be surprised. I didn’t even call to tell them I was coming. But still. It’s my fucking home and I shouldn’t have to tiptoe around wondering when and if Cris fucking Evans will be here.
    Shit
.
    “Great,” I mumble. “It’s been good seeing you.” I stand up and turn to walk out.
    “Don’t start that shit,” my dad warns. “You should’ve called to tell us you were coming.”
    I know he’s right, so I don’t say anything. Instead, I excuse myself to call Tally.
    “Any news?” I ask him. He sighs into the phone.
    “They’re not happy, but there’s not much to be done about it. They’ll delay filming and they’ll film as much as they can without you. They’re wanting you to come home on the weekends though, to film. You’re gonna have to make that work.”
    “I’ll get my lawyers on it,” I answer.