Chapter 1- One Big Happy Family.
ETHAN >< ><
I was lounging on the couch, flipping through some dumb magazine Mom had left out, when her voice rang out.
"Ethan, come join me in setting the table!"
I lifted my head, grinning at her standing there in the kitchen doorway, apron tied around her waist.
Today was my birthday and she'd been promising all week to spoil me rotten.
I set the magazine down and stretched, playing it up like the dramatic birthday boy I was.
"I thought you said you'd handle everything today, Mom. You know, to treat your one and only son right on his big day. And now you're roping the birthday king into table duty? What's next, making me wash the dishes too?"
She laughed, and waved me over with a wooden spoon still dripping sauce.
"Oh, hush, you lazy bum. A little help never killed anyone. Besides, if I let you sit there any longer, you'll turn into a couch potato before the candles are even lit."
I hauled myself up, chuckling as I wandered over to the dining table.
The cake sat in the center and I took my eyes away from it as I stared at mom.
"What can I do, boss?" I asked, leaning against the table with my best innocent grin.
She thrust a stack of napkins and a damp cloth at me .
"Start by wiping down these plates. And don't you dare half-ass it."
I took them, shaking my head as I got to work.
But then, out of nowhere, she got that sly look in her eye.
"You know, Ethan," she started casual.
"you're getting awfully old. Twenty-five today. When are you bringing home a nice girl? Someone real, not just… you know, a fling. I want grandkids someday, not a parade of one-night wonders."
I froze mid-wipe, napkin hovering over a plate.
Oh boy, here we go.
Mom had this radar for my dating disasters, like she could smell the awkward breakups from a mile away.
I shot her a smirk, deciding to lean into it.
"Who says I don't have someone, Mom? As a matter of fact, I do. Invited her over just two days ago. Isn't that enough to keep you off my back?"
She rolled her eyes so hard I thought they'd get stuck.
"Oh, please. I'm not talking about some… some fuckmate, Ethan. I mean a real relationship. Flowers, dates that don't end at midnight, the whole deal. Not whatever whirlwind you're spinning through these days."
I burst out laughing, setting the plate down with a clink.
"But Mom, that is a real, genuine relationship. In the modern world, anyway. We talked for hours. Shared pizza. It's deep stuff."
She snorted, shaking her head as she plated the chicken.
"Deep? Boy, you're getting so old you forgot what real love looks like in this new generation. That's not love—that's takeout and takeoffs."
I leaned in closer, dropping my voice to a mock-serious whisper.
"Nah, that's exactly love, Mom. Trust me. It's all about the vibe."
Another eye roll, and she turned toward the kitchen counter, muttering under her breath. But I could see the corners of her mouth twitching.
"If that's what you call love, then fine. Explain the last seven girls you've dragged through this house in the past two or three weeks. You 'love' all of them too? Planning a big relationship with the whole squad?"
My eyes went wide, heat creeping up my neck.
Busted.
"Mom! How—wait, seven? Come on!"
She didn't even turn around, just kept stacking the potatoes.
"What? I'm not lying, am I? So, you gonna marry all seven? Wow, then I'd better brace myself to be mother-in-law to a whole harem. And that's not even counting the ones from the last six months. If we tally those up, I'd be mother-in-law to half the damn nation!"
I gasped, hand flying to my chest like I'd been shot.
"Mom! How do you even know about all this? You always act like you're fast asleep whenever I bring someone over."
Finally, she spun around, that smug grin lighting up her face.
"Oh, I was asleep, dear son. But the hollering and hooting? That'll wake the dead. You need to get yourself a place to do… whatever it is you do. My ears are tired, Ethan. Exhausted."
I crossed my arms, trying to play it cool even as my face burned.
"But I have two houses, Mom! You're the one who begged—begged—me to move back in here because you were 'so bored' without me. I caved, didn't I? And now you're complaining? What, you want me to pack up and head back to my own spot?"
She paused, fork in hand, and fixed me with that look.
"Don't you dare, son. You're free as a bird to do whatever you want. Go on, pack your bags. See if I care."
But her voice cracked just a little at the end, and we both knew it was all bluff.
I grinned, pulling her into a quick side hug that made her squawk and swat at me with the dish towel again.
"Kidding, Mom. I'd miss your cooking too much. And the free laundry service."
She huffed, but there was a laugh in it as she untied her apron and tossed it over a chair.
"Table's set. Now help me grab the cutlery from the kitchen, you charmer."
I followed her like the overgrown kid I was, dodging her playful elbow jabs, the two of us chattering away about nothing and everything.
That's when the front door creaked open, and we both whipped our heads around.
Dad shuffled in, loosening his tie, his briefcase swinging from one hand
He looked beat, the lines around his eyes deeper than usual, but he managed a tired smile when he saw us.
I lit up, bounding over like a puppy.
"Yo, Dad! You nailed the timing again. Always showing up right when Mom's got the table looking like a feast fit for kings. You wanna spill your secret to the crowd? How do you do it?"
He chuckled, low and rough, handing over his briefcase as I swooped in to take it.
I held out my other hand like it was a mic, thrusting it toward his face with exaggerated flair.
"Come on, tell the people. What's the trick? Do you have a bat-signal for mashed potatoes?"
Dad's smile flickered, weaker than his usual bear-hug grin, and he just patted my shoulder, his hand heavy.
"Something like that, kid. Long day at the office. Smells amazing, though."
I paused, studying him.
There was something off—his eyes were distant. Work stress? Some asshole client giving him grief again?
I glanced at Mom, hoping she'd caught it too, but she was just beaming, hands on her hips, all proud and oblivious.
"Dinner's hot and ready, honey. Go wash up—Ethan's been slacking on the help."
I opened my mouth to ask him straight up—what's eating you, Dad?—but right then, my phone buzzed on the coffee table in the living room.
I groaned under my breath.
Who the hell calls on my birthday?
"Be right back," I muttered, jogging over to snag it.
The screen lit up: Secretary.
My stomach twisted. What could she want? I'd left the office hours ago, everything squared away. Or so I thought.
I swiped to answer, keeping my voice low as I stepped toward the edge of the room, away from Mom and Dad's murmurs.
"Theresa? This better be life or death. You know the rule—no calls after six."
Her voice tumbled out, all apologies and haste.
"Boss, I'm so sorry. I wouldn't if it wasn't urgent. The client's revisions came in—I've finalized the draft, but I need you to eyeball it before I hit send. Just to make sure the layout's tight. It won't take but five minutes."
I pinched the bridge of my nose, annoyance bubbling up.
"Couldn't this wait till tomorrow? It's my birthday, Theresa."
"I know, I know—happy birthday, by the way. But the client's breathing down my neck, and if we miss this window…"
I sighed, glancing back at the kitchen.
Mom and Dad were deep in their own little world now, her laughing at something he said, his shoulders finally loosening a bit.
"Fine. But make it quick."
I raised my voice just enough.
"Hey, Mom, Dad—start without me, yeah? Got a work thing I gotta knock out in my room. Won't be long."
Mom waved me off with a knowing look.
"Don't let it spoil your night, birthday boy. We'll save you the best pieces."
Dad just nodded, but his eyes met mine for a second. I filed it away, promising myself I'd grill him later.
Up in my room, I kicked the door shut and dropped into the desk chair, firing up my laptop.
The file loaded quick, and I scanned through the pages, barking notes at Theresa over speakerphone.
We went back and forth like that.
Ten minutes stretched into what felt like twenty, but I was in the zone.
But then all of a sudden, I heard a scream
Loud and gut-wrenching.
I froze, my heart slamming against my ribs.
"What the—?"
" Boss? You were saying something about the header?"
"Shhhhh."
I slapped a hand over the phone's mic, straining to listen.
"I think I hear a scream."