I head out of the station with two hours of sleep to my name and a fresh bandage on my thumb. Last night I ripped open the cut I had gotten earlier in the week when I inspected Rachel’s chimney for no goddamn reason other than to save face, and not look like a creeper thanks to Justin.

The cab of my truck is so hot it’s difficult to breathe. I crank on the air conditioner and turn up the fan. Showered, and in fresh street clothes, I head north, driving until I hit the border of Washington DC. Every week I make this drive unless I’m working, and every week it seems a little longer.

“There he is!” My brother Joey shouts.

“Finally!” My sister Sofia doesn’t sound forgiving of my being an hour late.

“He was working!” My mom defends me. “He was up all night.”

I pull open the screen door and though I’d heard their discussion while I made my way up to the house, they all yell out to me again like I didn’t.

Mom kisses both of my cheeks, and I hers, and then my sisters, Sofia, Arianna, and Mia as well before I reach my dad and brother, where we share the same greeting.

“You missed such a beautiful sermon this morning,” Mom says. “Priest Michael was talking about family and love, and all I could think was that you needed to hear it.”

“Did Joey like it?” I ask, deflecting the attention and reminding everyone I’m not the only single one here.

My older brother shoots me a look that warns me he’ll spit in my food if I hang him out to dry alone. So I remove some of the heat. “What about you, Arianna? Did you like the sermon?” I ask my youngest sister. Her dark hair whips as she turns to scowl at me.

Dad pats my cheek twice, chuckling as he does so, knowing my angle. He slowly walks to the head of the table and takes his seat. The rest of us carry bowls and platters over from the kitchen and take our seats.

“Coen, you have a dangerous job,” Mom starts off. “You need to find someone who is going to be your inspiration to keep surviving when you go to work every day to fight the devil.”

“He doesn’t go to work every day, Ma,” Joey says as our middle sister, Sofia, bats his hand away from a bowl of potato salad. “He only works twice a week.”

“That’s ’cause he works for twenty-four hours at a time, Neanderthal,” Sofia says.

Sofia and Mia are ten and twelve years older than me. I was as much their son as Mom’s. I think because Joey and Arianna are twins and have always had each other, everyone tends to forget they’re only three years older than me—especially our older sisters.

“Ma, Coen’s too young to get married,” Mia says.

“I had you by the time I was twenty!” our mom cries. “He’s thirty.”

“They’re almost thirty-four,” I point out. My brother and sister look nearly nothing alike. Where my brother is tall and wide, my sister, Arianna is tiny and petite. It’s a running joke in our family that Joey was never good at sharing, even while in the womb. Yet, when you piss them off, they have identical glares that will make most people shut up. But I’m not most people, and the look doesn’t deter me in the least, though I know my smallest sister will try and hang from my neck like a goddamn monkey so Joey can get in an easy shot. Been there. Done that. Still not afraid.

My phone beeps and the entire table turns to me with accusation, stilling the conversation.

“I have to keep it on me,” I remind them. “If there was an emergency, I have to respond.”

Sofia grabs it from her seat beside me. “Ella, Hayden, hot neighbor?” she reads aloud. “That doesn’t sound like an emergency, Coen.”

“Ella, Hayden, hot neighbor?” Mia repeats.

Mom’s brow furrows. “You aren’t having an affair with a married woman, are you?” Her brown eyes are already lit for a fight.

“No. Settle down.” I mean the warning for all of them as I reach to grab my phone back. Sofia pushes away from the table, reading our texts from this morning and last night aloud.

“Good luck on your date? I hope you sleep well? I look forward to you streaking in front of Mrs. Grant’s?” She reads them each like a question.

“Coen,” Mom says, calling all of us to attention. “What’s going on?”

“She’s just a friend, Ma,” I tell her.

“There are millions of texts here. No one texts someone that’s just a friend this many times. Try again,” Sofia says. “She has a son?” she asks, continuing to read the messages.

“Who is she?” Mia asks.

“She’s a neighbor.”

“A neighbor!” Joey hoots. “You’re breaking your own rules, man.”

“We’re just friends,” I repeat.

Joey laughs, shaking his head.

“You guys can tease Junior later. I’m starving. Let’s eat.” Dad isn’t trying to come to my rescue. I’m sure if I wasn’t an hour late, he’d be leading the charge against me, but since we pray as a family before every meal, antagonizing me is just slowing him down.

Reluctance is visible in each of their eyes as their smiles wan and they sit up straighter in their seats and closer to the table.

Meatballs, spareribs, pastas, and salads are passed around as soon as Dad finishes the prayer. We used to get together for dinner on Sundays, but recently our oldest sister, Mia, suggested we change it to be while the kids are in Bible study. Personally, I’m sad not to have them around anymore, not only because they often offered a welcomed distraction, but my nieces and nephews are the coolest kids on Earth. Sometimes my sisters’ husbands will join us, but it’s not as common. I think we overwhelm them, and that’s fine with me. I find both of them to be rigid and uptight.

Lunch is a production. Every meal is with my family. Mom always makes way too much food, and we talk and eat slowly, enjoying the company and stories that are passed around, stretching meals so they’re usually a few hours, creating another excuse for my brothers-in-law not to join, because they have to go pick up the kids from Bible study before we’re done. Sometimes they’ll drop by and stick around for dessert and watch a game of whatever sport is in season, or to watch a movie, but with the weather being so hot, I doubt they will.

I dodge a dozen more questions about Ella, turning them into jokes, which I fire at my siblings at random, and then turn the conversation to some of the calls we responded to last night.

When the last lunch dish has been rinsed and placed into the dishwasher, Dad heads to his recliner and sits down for what inevitably will be his afternoon nap. The girls have begun discussing potty training, something I want no part in, when my brother grabs two glasses filled with lemonade and vodka. He cocks his head to the screened in porch.

Joey and I sit across from each other, each releasing a heavy sigh as our stomachs adjust to being so full.

“So what’s the real deal with this chick?”

I scrub a hand down my face, my lack of sleep and too much food making it difficult for me to think straight.

“She’s cool,” I tell him. “She’s got a son who’s really cool too.”

“How’d you guys meet?”

“Justin, trying to be Mister Smooth went over to my neighbor’s house while Ella was there, claiming there might be something wrong with Rachel’s chimney.”

“Was there?” Joey asks, a smile making his lips twitch because he already knows the answer.

My forehead creases. “Hell no.”

Joey laughs loudly, slapping his thigh.

“But I had to go up there this week because I didn’t know how to admit that he was just trying to get in my neighbor’s house and meet them.”

Still laughing, Joey moves his hands in a rolling motion, urging me to continue. “So they fell for it?”

I huff, thinking of meeting Ella for the first time. “No,” I say simply, before considering it more carefully. “Well, I think Rachel—” I wave a hand, “my neighbor—she did, or wanted to, but no, Ella tried to hide from us.”

“What?” My brother chuckles. “Way to burn.”

“Right?” I ask. “It was pretty bad. But her son actually has a severe peanut allergy, and a few nights later when her friend—my neighbor—”

“Rachel?” Joey asks, working to follow the list of names and how they connect.

“Right. Well, Rachel was watching him and he had an allergic reaction. She had run over to get help, which led to me stopping by Ella’s the next day to check on him. He’s a really awesome kid. I’ve been working with him with some baseball stuff, and Ella and I have sort of become friends through it all.”

“What’s she like?” Joey asks.

I take a drink of my lemonade and consider his question. “She’s different. She’s fun.”

“Different than what?”

“Just different. I don’t know how to explain it. She’s kind of a badass when I start to think about it. I mean, you know how we hear Mia and Sofia talk about how hard being a mom is? Well Ella’s a single mom, and her kid is so cool. He’s funny, and super smart, and he loves baseball and cartoons. I mean I could hang with this kid every day and not get tired of him.”

“But what about Ella?” he asks again.

“She’s great. She’s super easy to talk to. I don’t feel like I have to impress her or like she’s trying to impress me, and I like that. She’ll eat pizza in front of me, and when I come over and she’s in her sweats, she doesn’t run off and change. And she’s got this job that sounds stressful and time-consuming, and yet when you ask her what she does, she gives you this vague answer.”

“But she’s just your friend?” Joey chuckles as he says it. “You’re ready to move into her goddamn house. Are you hearing yourself?”

I shake my head. “She lives a few blocks away,” I remind him. “And she’s on a date right now.”

“Does that bother you?”

“No!”

Joey raises his eyebrows and takes another drink. “You sure?”

“Of course I’m sure.”

“Then why do you keep checking your phone?”

My response it to stand up and stretch.

“Where you going?” Joey taunts.

“Back to North Carolina.”

“To see your neighbor?”

“I told you already—she’s out on a date.” My eyes warn him to drop it. “I’m going to head to the open gym and play some basketball. Work off Ma’s cooking.” I pat my abs.

“Hey, I spoke to Pete McNally, and he mentioned there might be a captain position opening up soon in Haven Point. It would bring you closer to home.”

My eyebrows rise with intrigue.

“I know it’s a small station and you’d have to move again, but you’ve mentioned how the whole neighborhood thing isn’t exactly your thing, and,” he gives me a pointed look, “you’d be far enough from Ella that you could—”

I punch him in the gut to cut him off and head back inside to say good-bye to my mom, dad, and sisters.