Page 7 of The Game We Played

“Hello!” I shout as I enter my parents’ house. “Is anyone home?”

Benny, the dog my sisters insisted my parents adopt, bounds toward me. I kneel down to pet his ears and he immediately rolls on his back to expose his belly to me.

“How’s my Benny boy?” I mutter as I give him a rub down.

“We’re here!” Beth and Anne shout in unison and I nearly fall on my ass in surprise.

Benny glances up at the twins before barking and dashing off. He finds my younger sisters speaking in unison as creepy as I do. Learn from my mistake. Never watchThe Shiningwith twin sisters.

“Hi, Beth. Hi, Anne.”

Anne frowns. “Why did you say her name first?”

“Because I said your name first last time.”

I actually keep track of whose name I say first. It sounds crazy, but it’s a little effort to ensure I don’t wake up to my sisters standing over my bed dressed as clowns and holding knives. I used to love clowns. Now I have nightmares about them cutting my hair off with a machete.

Beth grins. “I told you so.”

Anne sticks her tongue out at Beth. And here we go again. If my twin sisters aren’t teaming up to pick on someone, they’re fighting with each other. They’re infamous on the island for their battles at the hospital where they both work as nurse practitioners.

After the bedpan incident, the hospital changed their rosters to ensure Beth and Anne never work together again. My sisters filed a complaint, but it’s hard to win an argument when the director of the hospital ends up covered in urine. At least there weren’t any feces.

“Where are Mom and Dad?”

They roll their eyes in unison. “Where do you think?”

As if on cue, the kitchen door opens and Mom stumbles out. Her hair is a mess, and the buttons on her top are mismatched. Dad follows her with a grin on his face.

I groan. They haven’t changed since we were kids growing up in this house. I probably should be in therapy, considering the amount of times I walked in on them in a compromising position. There’s a reason I don’t enter a room without knocking.

“Hey, kids,” Dad greets.

When he reaches to hug me, I back away. “Have you washed your hands?”

He barks out a laugh before lunging for me. He wraps his arms around me and lifts me in the air as he sways me from side to side. “Good to see you, kid. How’s work going?”

I wrinkle my nose. “I hope I never have to listen to a mermaid singI Will Surviveagain.”

He frowns. “Not your bartending job. Your real job.”

Oh, how I wish being a journalist was my real job. As in the job to pay my rent. I shrug. “Okay.”

“Did you have your discussion with Mike? Those ideas you had about the rising sea levels were interesting.”

I sigh. “And yet Mike wasn’t interested.” He cringes. “It gets worse. TheGazettemight close down.”

Just saying the words has my heart racing. What am I going to do if the only newspaper on the island closes?

“Shit,” he mutters. “Why don’t I make a few calls? I still have plenty of contacts in the industry.”

Pain lances through me at the reminder of how I got my job at theGazette.I love my dad, but I don’t want him taking over my life and decisions – again.

I step away from him. “I don’t need your help. I’ll make it on my own.”

He holds up his hands. “Fine, but if you ever change your mind, let me know.”

“I won’t change my mind.”