Page 14 of Hooked on Trouble

Sighing, I carry the groceries into the kitchen and help Mom unpack. She kisses my shoulder. “How was work?”

“Not bad.”

She side-eyes me, my two word answer not cutting it. I don’t fill silence needlessly like Alessi, but I usually offer up more than two syllables. But talking opens the door to questions, often about Josh and his case. Questions I prefer to avoid.

I choose deflection. “Colin seems quiet. Everything okay with him? Nikki doing all right?”

She tosses a bag of dill pickle chips and M&M’s on the counter. “He’s just being a kid. Nothing serious. And Nikki is…better. Definitely better. Good days and bad.” She reaches up and pinches my cheek. “But you, I don’t have to worry about. Josh is lucky you’re in his corner.”

The smell of the chocolate cake sours, my gut turning over. Lucky isn’t the word I’d choose.

“Could you empty those bags in bowls? Josh will be home any minute.”

Happy to busy my hands, I grab the yellow plastic bowls from the cupboard and dump in the chips and candy—Josh’s favorite. Whatever the celebration, he’s at the center of it. Maybe if I don’t mention Jericho and the confession I won’t get, Josh can enjoy his last weeks as a free man. Not worry about the rationed food and prison bars and empty days. The inmates.

No point destroying what’s left of his time on the outside.

The front door slams open again, and Josh ducks inside. He scratches at his dark scruff. “Where are the rugrats?”

Jack, of course, throws himself at his uncle, head butting his thigh. Colin comes to life and loiters in the hallway, his clenched hand held up for a fist bump. Josh obliges and crouches down, a stack of comic books on his knee. “I was with a buddy, and he was getting rid of these. You two want ’em?”

Jack crows, “Yes!” and tries to swipe the stack.

Pushing to his feet, Josh looms over the boys. He pulls a few comics from the stack. “These, little man, are for you.” Jack grabs them and disappears into the living room. He holds the rest out for Colin. “And these are not for your brother’s eyes. They’re too gory. Got it?”

Colin bobs his head and takes the stack of comics. “Thanks, man. These are awesome.”

Josh squeezes his shoulder and pushes past him toward the kitchen. Instead of slinking off, Colin follows, his focus locked on his uncle, like Josh might do or say something brilliant at any second. A couple weeks back Colin was all over Josh, playing new songs from his iPod, eager to impress his uncle. He even wears his jeans low on his ass like Josh, a fucking travesty. I should be happy Josh brings Colin out of his shell, but it eats at the hollow in my gut.

Josh’s conviction will reverberate through this family.

“Nico,” Josh says in greeting. He tosses his sketchbook on the table, the thing glued to his hands these days, then he rounds the table and pulls me into a hug.

I pound his back, holding on longer than usual. There was a time, before his arrest, that he wouldn’t talk to me, let alone give me a hug. The silver lining, I guess.

I release him and nod to the cake. “Someone want to tell me what’s up?”

Josh folds his arms and sucks on his lips, pressing them tight. His eyes shine brighter than I’ve ever seen them, like he’s swallowed a lightbulb.

“Seriously,” I say. “Someone tell me something or I’m taking Jack and that cake, and we’ll eat it ourselves.”

“I got my GED.” Josh grins so wide my face hurts. “My fucking GED,” he repeats, then winces. “Sorry, Ma.”

Mom doesn’t yell at him to watch his language. Her chin trembles, and she fans her face to keep the tears at bay. I scrub my jaw then cover my mouth to hide the extent of my emotion. His GED. Every grade since his arrest has been hard earned. Late nights. Determination. Desperation to be better. As tough as it’s been, it validates the harsh line I’ve set for him.

Choked up, I grab his T-shirt and pull him back into my arms. “So proud of you.” I cup the back of his neck and kiss his head. “So proud,” I say against his hair.

By the time I let him go, Mom is crying, Nikki’s leaning on the door frame wiping her eyes, and Colin shifts on his feet, unsure what to make of all the hugging.

“Can we eat cake now?” Jack pokes his head around Josh’s legs and bats his lashes at my mother. “Please, Anna, can we?”

Anna. No one chooses to become a grandparent at forty, but having your grandkids call you by your first name won’t change the facts.

She nods, still too emotional to speak.

Josh smacks his hands together. “You bet. Cake and chips and chocolate. It’s a party ’cause your uncle is the bomb.”

I stand back as they crowd around the cake, failure coating my throat.