Three Strikes (Four of a Kind Book 3)

by Kellie Bean

  "It's okay," Rosie says. "I know you didn't mean anything by it."

  Kent takes a deep breath, visibly relieved. "I really didn't. But can I ask why it was the wrong thing to say, just so I don't screw it up again?"

  To my surprise, it's not Rosie that everyone turns to next, but me. The resident lesbian.

  "Hey, I won't tell anyone what to be offended at. To me though, the whole changing teams thing just makes it sound so deliberate. Like Rosie jumped ship from liking one set of people to liking another. I kind of hate the whole team analogy anyway. Because who says she can't play for both teams, er, like both... Yeah, this is stupid. Rosie is the same incredible person she's always been. Maybe she's always like both guys and girls, maybe I'm an exception, or maybe she doesn't really know yet. And those are all totally okay."

  The words coming out of my mouth are only partially mine. This speech is sounding an awful lot like one I got from my mom not long after I first came out to my family. It stuck with me. And so far, Rosie and I haven't really talked about her feelings or preferences. There's a million things I've wanted to say to her, all along the lines of whoever she is and whoever she likes, I'm crazy about her.

  "Thanks," Rosie says squeezing my hand. "And yeah, what she said. I won't say I still don't feel a little uncomfortable talking about all of this. But I promise as soon as I've got myself figured out, I'll be ready to make jokes and whatever, or to talk about our shockingly similar taste in women" Rosie sticks out her tongue at Kent and everyone relaxes, halfheartedly going back to our game. Mostly, we just make up new rules until it looks like the other group is just about finished and we're going to get a break.

  It looks like Frank is the ultimate winner of whatever it was they were playing, since he's got his arms both raised in triumph.

  I'm just glad for the chance to stretch my legs. "Where's the bathroom?" I ask Rosie.

  She points me down the hallway after standing herself, then heads over to chat with someone I don't know as most people head for the snack table.

  Jen's house is eclectic and elegant, with each room having a distinct style. The living room looked like a fairly typical family hangout area, but the bathroom I find is decorated with pictures of India and a few elephant figurines.

  I finish up, drying my hands on an intricately patterned blue towel when angry voices start talking right on the other side of the bathroom door.

  By talking, I mostly mean yelling. And by the other side of the door, I mean that I'm pretty sure the man's voice that I'm hearing is literally coming from less than a foot away, with only one large piece of wood between me and the man who I suspect is Jen's dad.

  "You don't know what you're talking about, Lillian," the man snaps, his voice cold. "You're so busy talking about yourself all the time that you don't have the slightest idea about what's going on with anyone else."

  He's loud enough that I can make out every word. But the woman who responds is practically shrieking, loud enough that everyone back in the living room can probably hear her too. "You're such a dick."

  The exchange doesn't get any more pleasant over the next few exchanges, and I'm doing my best not to eavesdrop but I am hearing every single, terrible thing being said.

  Frantically uncomfortable, I reach for my phone to text Rosie and ask for help getting me out of here. But I left my phone with her. The pockets in these pants barely qualify for the term and aren't big enough to hold anything bigger than a tube of lip glass. So Rosie carried my phone for me, and I have no way to ask her to come to my rescue.

  "Mom, Dad," another voice joins the conversation, stopping the other two at once. "Can't you guys hit pause, just for today. It's my birthday." I recognize Jen's voice easily as she confirms my theory that the two people yelling had been her parents. Heat rises to my cheeks in a showing of second hand embarrassment.

  I can only imagine how she's feeling as she pleads with still angry parents to give it a rest.

  More than anything, I wish I could give the family their privacy. I don't know these people or what's going on in their lives. And I'm probably the last person they'd be comfortable with airing out all their dirty laundry in front of.

  But I'm way too freaked out to even consider just slipping out the door, mumbling an apology and scuttling back to the party. Hopefully, if I just wait another few seconds, Jen will be able to talk her parents down and I can escape, no one ever needing to know I was there.

  "Look, Dad, why don't you and Uncle James just go out for a while. I'll text you when everyone's gone and we can do one last family dinner."

  "Why should I have to be the one to leave?" Her dad grumbles back. "She's the one who slept with..."

  I don't catch the name, but it doesn't matter. Between that declaration and Jen's mentioning of a last family dinner, what's happening is clear enough. Jen's parents are getting divorced, and clearly not getting along. And apparently neither one of her parents has any problem pulling Jen right into the middle of their issues.

  Happy birthday to her. The debate rages onward, quieter now. But it feels like once Jen's parents get revved up for an argument, they aren't exactly easy to pull back in.

  I can count on one hand the number of times our parents have had a full blown argument in front of me and my sisters. And every time one has started up for whatever reason, they've always managed to hit pause within minutes, almost certainly continuing later once they didn't have an audience. There have been a bunch of other times where they've been angry at each other and doing a lousy job at hiding it from us. But at least they tried. Something in this moment, I so appreciate.

  A few more swear words are muttered, a few more arguments made. Jen's dad is clearly furious, but trying to hold it together for his daughter. I'm not sure what to make of Jen's mom. But Jen stays calm from beginning to end, which doesn't surprise me at all. In the time I've known her, she's always reminded me a lot of Rhiannon, and last year the two of them even hung out a few times, but either way, the girl definitely knows how to keep her cool.

  After a paralyzing five minutes where the Indian-themed bathroom starts to feel like my own personal hell, Jen convinces her parents to retreat to their corners, everyone staying in one place so they can get through one last family dinner.

  One last dinner. Jen says the phrase at least three times, and I suspect it's eating away at her.

  Or I'm just overthinking absolutely everything I'm hearing because there's absolutely nothing else I can do.

  I'm probably going to be reliving this whole thing several hundred times over the rest of my life, I'm that uncomfortable right now.

  The space in front of the door has fallen silent, but in my attempt not to just listen with rapt attention as a family falls apart, I'm not sure if I've missed the all clear. Did they leave? Is it safe to go out?

  Holding my breath, I take a step toward the door and gently place my hand against the silver knob. Maybe I can just sneak a look out and see what's happening.

  I wait a few more seconds and then flick the bathroom light off and brace myself for a whole new level of uncomfortable.

  But the door pushes open before I even have a chance to pull and hope for the best.

  Eyes wide, Jen is standing on the other side of the door. "Sorry," I mumble. I don’t even know what exactly I'm sorry for as I move past her, getting out of the bathroom so that she can escape to it.

  Thankfully, neither of her parents are still in the hall.

  Jen doesn't say a word, just shutting the bathroom door behind her. As soon as the door clicks shut and I'm ready to full out run back to Rosie, a shuddering sob comes from the other side of the door.

  Oh. I feel Jen's pain like a kick in my own heart. I'm reliving everything I just heard, and imagining everything that must have led up to it, working up a world of hurt that may never even have happened. But now I'm feeling it for both of us, and it's breaking my heart.

  I can't make myself move as the crying continues.

  She probabl
y wants to be left alone, I consider.

  Or maybe that's the last thing she wants, and she's already feeling alone. Or she doesn't want to share anything this difficult with the other people in her life. She must be feeling a million things right now. And all I want to do is make it better.

  On every level, I know I can't. I know there's nothing I can do that will make this suck any less, to ease her disappointment, embarrassment, fear, or anything else.

  But I just can't leave her alone.

  It would probably make sense to just go get Rosie, or Frank, or Reagan. Someone else. Someone who knows Jen better than I do.

  But I don't know if that's what she'd really want. And the last thing I want is to make this worse.

  All I know for sure is what I heard, and that Jen is probably well aware that I overheard everything. The damage is done, for better or worse. The least I can do is try to help.

  Not giving myself a chance to chicken out when I've convinced myself of the right thing to do, I push back inside the bathroom.

  "Hey," I say softly.

  Jen's standing over the sink, fingers clenched around the counter and staring at herself in the mirror as tears fall down her cheeks.

  "Can I come in?"

  She doesn't answer. She doesn't say no either.

  I let my gut lead the way as I move farther inside, shutting the door behind me for whatever tiny bit of privacy it offers.

  "I'm really sorry." It's all I can come up with. I'm not even sure if Jen's listening. She just looks so lost. Hopeless.

  "Is there anything I can do?"

  The question hangs between us as Jen turns, and I half expect her to tell me to get the hell out. She'd be totally justified.

  But she just stands there, like she has no idea what to do.

  I know the feeling well.

  So I do what I've always done. The same thing my parents always did for me. The thing I've done for all of my sisters more times than I can count, though less and less often as we get older.

  I pull her into a hug.

  She doesn't react right away. Then with a shuddering breath, her whole body exhales and her arms move up to wrap around me. She's hanging on for dear life, and I'm not about to let go.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  I don't know how long the two of us stand there intertwined, but I at least am feeling a little better. Hopefully she is too. This stuff I know how to do. And a hug is a hug, no matter how well you know a person or their problems. Sometimes a hug just helps.

  Jen pulls away a little sooner that I'm ready for. I still have no idea what to say to her. A hug was really all I had to offer. And now that she's standing in front of me, it doesn't feel like nearly enough.

  But to my surprise, as soon as Jen looked at my face she starts giggling, almost hysterically.

  I tilt my head to the left a little trying to figure out what I've missed.

  "I could've been peeing." Jen places her hands on her hips but is still laughing. "You just walked in here and I could have been sitting on the toilet."

  I don't know what it is about this idea but it strikes me as pretty hilarious as well and before I know it we’re both laughing, leaning into one another and inhaling so deeply that some of our laughs come out as snorts.

  I can't make it stop. And it feels like all of this laughter is barely concealing what could easily turn into crying, so I will take laughing any day.

  We only stopped when a light tap comes from the door. A second later, the woman I'd been introduced to as Jen's mom when I arrived popped her head in. I do my best to school my face, trying to look like I have no idea about any of her problems, or the issues that I'm sure she doesn't want shared with the world. "Jennifer," she says kindly, "it's almost dinner time. You should probably say goodbye to your friends."

  We're being kicked out. Politely, but kicked out.

  "No problem," Jen says. "Just give me a minute."

  The door closes again, leaving Jen and I alone. Any hint of laughter is long gone and an uncomfortable silence builds around us.

  "I won't tell anyone," I say before Jen has to ask. There's no point in pretending like I didn't hear what was going on with her parents, but I want her to know that her secrets are safe with me. "Not Rosie or Reagan. It's not my business. But if you need anything, I'm definitely here."

  Jen nods. My secrecy is accepted and appreciated.

  Together we go back to the living room, talking casually like I didn't just have the weirdest fifteen minutes of my life. Rosie's eyebrows pop up as soon as she sees me but all I can do is smile apologetically. I still have no idea how I'm going to explain my random extended absence.

  Maybe she'll just assume I needed to have some really uncomfortable bathroom time in her friend's house and will know well enough not to talk about it.

  Yeah, I'm kind of getting in my own head right now. But it's been a weird day and I'm starting to feel more than a little drained even though I haven't even had dinner yet.

  The party ends officially and I say goodbye to everyone I've been introduced to before taking off for home with Reagan, Kent and Rosie.

  Reilly: We're bringing Rosie and Kent home for dinner. See you soon.

  I send the text to my dad to remind him that he agreed to feed a couple of extra people tonight as we head back toward our own neighborhood. Kent and Rosie are still try to make sense of the game we were playing but I’m mostly just happy to be out in the fresh air as the fall is starting to set.

  Summer already seems so long ago.

  My phone buzzes in my hand and I bring the screen to life.

  Dad: Not tonight, sweetheart. Change of plans. You on your way home?

  I can't help the frown that works its way onto my face. I'd been looking forward to a night in with Rosie, curled up on the couch and binging The Originals.

  Reilly: No problem. We're only a few minutes away.

  "Looks like dinner plans are off," I say, interrupting the conversation going on around us. "Mom and dad want us home. Just us, I think."

  Reagan pulls her phone and I know she's going to argue by text with my parents. "Don't. Just go with it." I've got a feeling. And I'm not sure it's a good one. Usually our parents are open to having pretty much anyone over for any meal unless they've already told us that we should expect some family only time. I've always kind of imagined that it's like that for any big family, not just those with a matching set of kids. Company is just a part of doing business. So if our parents want us not to bring anyone home, I can live with that, even if I'm a little disappointed.

  As we approach Main Street, Reagan and I will have to go our separate ways from our dates, my sister and her boyfriend pull ahead of Rosie and I, leaning into one another to whisper things I can't hear.

  "Thanks for bringing it today," I say, moving closer Rosie. Basically as close as I can get without impeding or walking or looking like a couple of weirdos heading down the sidewalk.

  But this town is probably used to weirdos. They embrace weirdos.

  "Thanks for being a good sport. I know board games, and video games, and all that are really your thing. And sometimes even I feel kind of lost. But they're my friends, and they are kind of great. Plus, I think Jen had a good time."

  "Absolutely," I answer, probably a little too quickly. But Rosie doesn't think anything of it. "She seems really nice. She is really nice."

  Okay, I'm officially getting weird. I drop the subject by stopping in the middle of the sidewalk and pulling Rosie close to me for what will have to be our last kiss of the day. Hopefully there will be more tomorrow.

  It's over too quickly, just like they all are. And soon Reagan and I are headed down our street. Both Mom and Dad’s cars are in the driveway, but I can't remember if I know what Rhiannon is up to today.

  Hopefully no one got into any trouble.

  I want to talk to my sisters and see if I can get some kind of warning about what to expect, but we're officially out of time.

  Stepping inside th
e house, everything seems normal.

  "We're home," I call out.

  Mom answers, "Welcome back."

  It feels like she's home more often than usual lately although maybe I'm just imagining it.

  Reagan and I find the rest of our foursome in the living room. Both Reece and Rhiannon have taken up spots on the couch, talking quietly to one another until they see us.

  "What's going on?" Reagan asks.

  Reece shrugs. "We were waiting for you guys, I think. I was supposed to be at a party tonight. Brienne's parents are going on a date night for a few hours, and mom and dad already said I could go. But now, apparently not." She huffs like we're not already perfectly aware of her unhappiness.

  "Did you do something to get grounded?" I ask. "Something you maybe don't know you've been caught doing yet?"

  "Why am I always the one that's probably in trouble? Maybe Rhiannon—" Reece cuts herself off, giving up. I'm not convinced someone's in trouble anyway. It's not really like my parents to call one of us out in front of the others, at least if they can help it.

  "Just profiling the most likely trouble maker." Rhiannon stretches out and pokes Reece with her foot.

  "You don't know what is going on?" I direct my question to Rhiannon since she usually has her finger on the pulse of basically everything all the time. I used to think I did to, but I'm feeling more and more lost lately, like I can't keep up with my own life, let alone everyone else's.

  She shakes her head. But before anyone can start guessing, the room fills up. Mom, Dad and Grace all come in from the dining room, completely silent. Weirdly so.

  Something is absolutely up, and it's giving me all kinds of anxiety trying to figure out what it is.

  Seeing Grace, I drop the possibility that any of us are in trouble. There's definitely no way Grace would be involved. This is something else.

  I just wish I knew what.

  But I sit down and keep my mouth shut. More than once, Dad opens his mouth to start talking, but nothing comes out. Eventually he sits too and I move on to the floor to give mom the chair I've taken without thinking.