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Middle Child

♡ summary: You meet Sy’s family. Lord help you.

♡ Serves as a direct prequel to Y is for Yes.

♡ Captain Syverson x Black OC/Reader

♡ Warnings: boy talk.

-

“Wait,” you suddenly squeaked, grabbing Sy by his arm and him pulling back. He complied, eyebrow inquisitively raised to the short curls drooping on his forehead.

“What?”

Your eyes flicked back and forth from his face to the daunting yellow front door of his childhood home brightly lit by the outdated porch light.

“What if they don’t like me?” you asked under your breath as if Sy’s family on the other side of the door would hear.

“We been through this, shug,” he exhaled.

“I know, baby,” you practically whined. “But still.”

“They’re gonna love you.”

“They don’t even know me.”

“Well, not yet. But when they get to know you and see what a fucking diamond you are, they’d be country dumb not to like you.”

You pouted, mulling it over as your gaze dropped to the dirt of the walkway.

“Hey, look at me.” Sy’s finger lifted your chin up to meet his adoring stare.

You obeyed, fluttering your lashes and practically melting his insides in the process. You were too fucking cute for words.

“You know I wouldn’t be doing this if I knew you couldn’t do it,” he said. “I wouldn’t take you anywhere I knew you wouldn’t be safe, baby.”

“I know.”

“I know it’s scary and nerve wracking, but I promise everything’s gonna be fine. Easy. You wanna make a good impression and all that but it don’t take much to make a bunch of country folk like you.”

“Yeah, if I was white.”

“That don’t matter none.”

You leveled him with an unimpressed look. “You didn’t tell them.”

“It didn’t come up.”

“So they don’t know?”

“You know my brother’s wife, Lay, is black. You’d think I’d lead you to the lion’s den if my family was a bunch of bigots?”

For lack of an answer he’d understand, you pressed your lips together and stared up at him, analyzing his open body language and sincere gleam in his eyes.

He seemed so sure and confident and you trusted him.

“I just don’t wanna fuck it up.”

“You won’t.”

“I really want them to like me.”

“They will.”

“I need them to.”

Sy grinned. “This means everything to me that yer doing this. And you know if they didn’t like you, I’d have to disown myself.”

“Stop that.”

“‘M serious, darling,” he teased, leaning over to peck your cheek and then the side of your downturned lips. “What kinda idiot do I look like choosing them over a sweet girl like you?”

He succeeded in getting a smile out of you despite your worry. His lips finally met yours and you held back deepening the sentiment.

“You just talking shit.”

“No, I mean it.”

“You love your family too much to do that.”

I think I love you more sat on the tip of Sy’s tongue, but he swallowed it with another smile.

“You trust me?” he asked instead.

You thought for a moment, considering the pros and cons. The worst that could happen is they could be racist assholes, you break up with Sy and move back home and date some boring lawyer from your mom’s country club.

“Yeah,” you said, nodding. “Fuck it. Let’s do this.”

Your heart was nestled in your stomach yet beating like a kick drum in your ears the entire time it took Sy to take your hand in his, lead you to the yellow door, knock once and let the two of you in. The immediate aroma of a day’s worth of cooking hits your senses, melting your insides and transporting you back to a time you’ve never experienced. Your family didn’t do dinners like this and yet, it already felt like you’d been here many times before.

“Is that Nicky?” a male voice boomed from the living room a few paces to the right of the front door.

Sy rolled his blue eyes back in feigned annoyance as he entered the next room. You followed close enough to be hidden behind his large frame even if you yourself are quite tall and hard to miss.

There sat on the couch in his Sunday’s best, nursing an ice cold beer fresh out the freezer and watching college football highlights was a man you’d easily mistake for Sy if you hadn’t walked in with him. You blinked a few times to ensure who you’re seeing is correct and then looked up at your own man for further confirmation.

“You lazy ass bastard,” Sy snickered under his breath, snatching the beer straight out his hand, taking a swig for himself and pointing an accusatory finger. “You’re never doing a fucking thing every time I’m over here.”

“Then stop coming over here.”

“Lawn needs to be mowed, paint’s chipping and the roof’s leaking and yer on yer ass as usual.”

“Oh, suck my dick, G.I. Joe,” he laughed, holding his hand out. “Gimme back my beer.”

“Man, shut up and stand like you got some sense,” Sy barked, taking another sip for emphasis. “There’s a lady present.”

“Lady—?” The man uttered, sitting up and looking around Sy at the same time Sy pulled you from your hiding spot into the spotlight.

This close, you’re almost taken aback by the resemblance. The same ocean eyes, upturned nose, thin lips, and boyishly rosy cheeks that you’ve grown so accustomed to are clear as day on somebody else, instantly silencing some of the anxieties rambling around in your brain. His hair was slicked back with gel but his hair was probably just as curly as Sy’s.

“Ah, hell!” the man cheered, jumping up from off the couch and looking you over in the same inquisitive way you were doing him and then pointing. “You the lil’ filly that’s got my brother’s panties in a twist, ain’t you?”

“Where’r your manners? Don’t call her no filly.”

“Y’gonna introduce us?”

“Begrudgingly,” Sy murmured below his breath and gestured towards you, squeezing your hand when he started with your name. “This is my older brother, Derek,” he said, now gesturing a hand out to the other man. He states your name again and Derek tried it out for himself.

“Pretty name,” Derek said, holding a hand out. You went to shake it, but he instead brought yours to his mouth to delicately peck. “Glad to finally meet you.”

“I’m gonna rip your lips straight off your face if you ever do that again,” Sy grunted, cupping your hand and retrieving it from Derek’s for you and exchanging it with the beer.

“Don’t get strict on me, Nicky.”

“Strict nothing, ya disrespectful lil’ shit. Where’s Mama and ‘nem?”

“They’re in the kitchen, moody bitch,” Derek snapped back, waving his brother off as though he were a fly. “That ain’t no way to talk in front of a woman.”

“Don’t talk to me about my woman and go help yours with your baby. When’s the last time you changed a diaper?”

You observed the exchange, minutely entertained at the visual of Sy essentially arguing with himself. They throw harmless digs back and forth with little to no heat or malice in their tones, but you couldn’t help but stand by awkwardly and wait for Sy to snap out of the brotherly loop and introduce you to the remainder of his family.

As if on queue, the shifting sounds of people in an adjacent room filtered through the walls and grew louder the closer they got. Voices arose and you stiffened in anticipation.

“Who the hell is doing all that cussing in my damn house?” an older lady with light brown graying hair done up in large curls called on her way in and promptly stopped in her tracks at the sight of you. Her grumpy expression brightened into something warm, inviting and pleasantly surprised and you couldn’t help returning the smile.

“Hey, Mama!” Sy cheered, turning away from Derek and settling a reassuring hand on your lower back. He wrapped the woman in a tight bear hug and kissed her temple. “Y’got her hair done and you’re lookin’ good.”

“Oh, stop,” she giggled, curious blue eyes never leaving your brown ones as she swatted her son off and stepped towards you. “Hey, darling.”

“Mama,” Sy started, grin widening by the second. “This is my girl…”

The remainder of his sentence faded off into oblivion and your hearing blocked the rest of it out to focus on that last word before your name.

Girl.

He called you his girl.

He never mentioned anything about you being his girl. Well, to you, anyway.

You two hadn’t talked about that. You two never established that and yet, here he was just saying it ever so casually as your insides bursted with barely contained elation.

Oh, you? Well, yes. You’re Sy’s girl because he said so. It didn’t matter what was said or done because at the end of the day, you’re Sy’s girl. It’s not a title you had to beg and plead for; it just is and Sy said it so confidently you almost forget that he didn’t even ask you. He just said it like it was a known fact!

The sky is blue, what goes up must come down and you were Sy’s girlfriend.

His fucking girlfriend.

You’ve never been one of those before.

You continued smiling, giddy and barely containing the urge to cartwheel as Sy introduced you to his mother, Judith “Judy” Josephine Syverson, nee’ Boyd.

“It’s nice to meet you, ma’am,” you said and she waves that off with a playful roll of her eyes.

“None of this ma’am stuff, darling. Yer practically family.”

“Y’calling it kinda early, ain’t you, Mama?” Derek interrupted from the coach and Judy glared over your shoulder.

“Wasn’t nobody talking to you,” she said.

“Yeah, mind yers,” Sy chimed in and earned a look of his own. He flinched at the hardness of it and shrugged sheepishly.

“What?”

“Quit instigating,” Judy snapped and nodded towards the front door. “Go on and do something useful instead of sitting in my house cussing like you don’t have the sense God gave a billy goat. I told you that washing machine’s broke, so grab your Daddy’s tools out the shed and make something shake.”

“He’s not doing nothing but watching TV, Mama!” Sy pointed at his brother, instantly turning back into his adolescent self. “Make him do it. I’m entertaining company.”

“Ha ha!” Derek sang, sticking his tongue out to taunt Sy.

“I told you to do it. I can show her around my house and introduce her to everyone just fine,” Judy insisted, pulling you away from Sy with the slightest brush of her hand intertwining with yours. “You don’t mind, d’ya, baby?”

Judy didn’t strike you as the type to take no for an answer so despite your discomfort at being split from the only person you knew in the house, you shook your head.

“Oh, uh, no. Of course not.”

“See?” Judy said, squeezing your hand comfortingly. “Now, gone and git ‘cus dinner’s ready soon.”

“Can I at least say hi to Alayna and Dylan first?” Sy begged. “And what about my nephew?”

“You’ll see them at dinner. Gone,” Judy commanded with finality and Sy begrudgingly headed to the front door.

“I’ll be back, shug,” he said on his way out. “Y’all be nice.”

“Mama, you shoulda whooped him more when he was a baby then he wouldn’t talk back so much,” Derek said, shaking his head in mock disappointment once his brother was outside and out of earshot.

“Shut up, Ricky,” Judy muttered, clearly just as annoyed with her oldest. “Stop teasing him. You know he’s sensitive.”

“Crybaby ass soldier boy.”

Judy’s eyes rolled up again and she patted your hand. “You sure this is what you’re ready for?” she asked quietly.

You giggled, truly enjoying the dynamic amongst them. You were definitely in for a real treat when everybody got together.

“I’ve got something for you, too. I’m not gonna keep begging you to get that lawn under control.”

“C’mon, Mama, we’re about to eat and—” Derek groaned but the older woman cut it off with another pointed stare.

“Don’t make me cuss you out on a Sunday in front of a guest.”

“Uh, fine!” he said, standing again and making a show of displaying his attire. “Guess I’ll just mow the lawn in slacks and a button up in the middle of a Texas spring.”

“Guess you will.” Judy shrugged.

Derek left in the same huff and puff as Sy, leaving his mother unfazed and uncaring. Once Derek was gone, Judy turned to you.

“I think if I’d had little girls, I wouldn’t get as much attitude,” she said, chuckling once and then walking towards the room she came from. You involuntarily follow with your arm looped with hers.

“Well, I’m one of three girls and it’s all pretty much the same,” you told her.

“Oh, are you? Where do you fall?”

“Middle.”

“Like Nicky.”

“Yeah.”

“Something in common already.”

Before you can respond, Judy entered the small kitchen where the source of the house’s aroma was being tended in the oven by a model-esque brown-skinned young lady with her natural curls flowing freely down her back in an apron.

It should be a testament to how anxious you were at the flood of relief that washed over you when you recognized the young woman as Derek’s wife and not some kind of help. The optics weren’t on the Syverson’s side in that regard, and you can only imagine the fear that ran through this woman’s veins when she was first brought home as the lone black woman in a family of white Texans.

For that you saluted her bravery and sacrifice because realistically you couldn’t have done it without the daunting feeling of isolation as the token minority no matter how much you liked Sy.

And you certainly wouldn’t have brought a child into the mix.

“Lay Baby, look who’s finally here,” Judy started and the woman checking the food in the oven spun to see for herself.

The visible shock was evident in Alayna’s face when her eyes landed on you. Even though you’d never met this woman a day in your life, there was an instant yet silent recognition and understanding unsaid by the mouths because looks would always ring louder.

“Hi,” she greeted sweetly, flashing a bright smile that matched every other perfect thing about her. This woman was beautiful beyond words, sharing quite a few notable traits with yourself that go beyond skin color.

The Syverson boys definitely had a type.

“Darling, this is Alayna, my favorite child,” Judy teased with a hand out to the young woman. “She did me the biggest favor and got Rick off my hands.”

Alayna chuckled, shutting the oven and removing the mitts.

Judy gestured to you next. “Lay Baby, this is—”

Your name blurted from Alayna’s mouth in question.

“Yeah.” You nodded.

“I knew I wouldn’t forget,” she said. “Nicky talks about you all the time. I feel like I already know you.”

At that, she winked a dark brown eye unseen by Judy. You return the sentiment with a smirk.

“It’s nice to have another girl around here,” Judy continued, moving past you to the stove to check the steaming pots and give them a quick stir. “We were beginning to feel outnumbered, weren’t we, Lay Baby?”

“Sure were,” Alayna agreed, taking a rest at the wooden table in the corner of the kitchen. “I can only imagine that kind of hell while the boys were growing up.”

“I’m still living in it,” Judy complained, adjusting the stove burners, shaking her head in frustration and glancing over at Alayna.. “You’d think after twenty-nine years your husband will stop antagonizing his baby brother, but it’s like a sport with those two.”

You stand where Judy left you in the middle of the kitchen, unsure of your next move. Do you put your purse down and just sit, too? Isn’t that what Southern women do? Sit in the kitchen and gossip over iced tea while the men in the family worked?

The uncertainty must ring loud in the small room because before you can even offer to help cook or ask anything, Judy backed away from the stove and took your arm again.

“C’mon, darling,” she said. “You, too, Lay. We’re gonna find Dylan and Christian, set this table and get to eating.”

“Finally,” Alayna uttered and glanced at the rooster clock above the stove. “It’s ‘bout time I get him a bottle.”

Judy answered the evident question etched in your scrunched in your eyebrows with, “Christian is Ricky and Lay’s son. Barely a few months old and just as cute as a button.”

“And here’s Mommy’s little button now,” Alayna’s voice went up a few octaves the instant the three of you stepped foot on the back porch.

You’re met with another man slowly pacing the expanse of the porch with a soda bottle in one hand, a thick novel in the other and the sleeping infant strapped to his chest. He resembled the other Syverson boys in looks and frame but there was a distinct sweetness in his eyes where Derek’s held mischief and Sy’s held sadness.

“Finally got him to sleep, lil’ fussy thing,” the man told the three of you, doing a double take from his book when he noticed you on the other side of Judy. “Oh. Hi.”

“Darling, this is Dylan, my youngest,” Judy said and rubbed a reassuring hand over your shoulder. “Dyl, honey, this is Nicky’s friend.”

Dylan repeated your name after Judy and a corner of his lips quirked up. “It’s nice meeting you, ma’am. Could I ask you a question, though?”

“Uh, yeah? What’s up?”

“What’s a pretty girl like you doing slumming with Nicky’s dumbass?”

You snorted, fighting back a chuckle while Judy’s eyes rolled into hell for the umpteenth time just this afternoon. Albeit rhetorical, you didn’t have a genuine answer for that so you shrugged.

“Guess he caught me at the right time,” you told him.

“God bless whenever that was,” he replied.

“Stop flirting and come help your mama set this table,” Alayna huffed, arms out to receive Christian. Dylan undid the baby and they carefully transferred him over. Judy looped her arms with Dylan’s now and retreated back inside the house.

“My little sweetie,” Alayna cooed and angled him for you to see. “He’s a peach, isn’t he?”

That was an understatement—Christian Syverson was quite literally the most adorable baby you’d ever set your sights on. If you ever needed evidence of cherubs inhabiting earth, the sleeping infant in Alayna’s arms was proof.

Your bottom lip poked out in admiration that anything could be so precious.

“Oh, Alayna, he’s everything.”

“I did my thing, huh?”

“You sure did,” you agreed, leaning in and watching his miniature features twitch and flinch in his sleep. “How old is he?”

“Seven months,” she said and then looked over at you. “You want kids?”

“Oh, uh,” you stuttered, immediately standing back to your full height and looking away to avoid her expectant gaze. “Um. I don’t think I’ve thought about it.”

“Yeah?”

“I mean I love kids, but I guess it never occurred to me. I mean, it has. I’m a woman and I think all of us have at some point though, but it’s never lingered.”

“Of course.” Alayna nodded and pecked Christian’s forehead. “I didn’t think I wanted any until meeting Derek. This little angel was a surprise.”

“A blessing in disguise, I guess.”

“I’ll say. Come sit with me a minute.”

Alayna took a seat with her legs crossed on the wicker sofa, Christian cuddled close in her arms. You joined her and set your purse on the matching wicker table before you.

“You wanna hold him?”

Your incessant staring made it incredibly obvious that yes, if you didn’t get your hands on the little angel, you’d explode. Instead of jumping at the chance, you shook your head and brushed off the offer.

“Oh, no, it’s fine. I mean, you just met me and I know moms don’t really like—”

“Yeah, but I asked. And I can tell you really want to,” she said with a friendly grin. “And I like you already. I can tell you’ve got good energy. Go on and take him.”

“You’re sure.”

“I’d be insulted if you didn’t.”

And before you could oppose and ask if she’s sure again, she’s handing you her son with all the trust in the world. You immediately take him in your arms, supporting his neck and head as you bring him closer to inspect his tiny face.

“He’s so beautiful,” you repeated.

“He looks like his Daddy, don’t he?”

“Only a little. Same nose on all three of them.”

“Imagine my surprise when Sy brought me home and I saw I got the runt of the litter.” Alayna scoffed, an edge of lighthearted teasing in her tone.

“They all just go by Sy, huh?”

“It’s a thing,” she explained, staring out at the bare backyard in desperate need of mowing. “You just gotta pick your favorite one.”

“Hmm,” you hummed and looked up from Christian to his mother. “How’d you and your Sy meet?”

“Work,” she answered with a fond smile as she recollected. “We worked in the same auto shop. I was just a receptionist working there to pay for school and he was the loudest, most obnoxious, meanest jackass who worked there and I had the biggest fucking crush on him. I hated him but I needed him so bad.”

“Sounds like your everyday enemies to lovers romance novel.”

“Yeah, I eventually warmed up, but I told him he had to tone down the asshole act if he wanted a shot with me. I didn’t think we were going anywhere but I just woke up one day as a Syverson. It happened so quickly. Then I woke up one day and I’m Mommy. Weird, huh?”

“Not if it’s what you wanted.”

“I didn’t know what I wanted until I got it. Now I’m right where I need to be,” she said, beaming from ear to ear and caressing Christian’s pink cheek with her index finger. “Didn’t think I could still pursue law school and be a mom all at once, but I’m doing it.”

“That’s good.”

“What about you? What do you wanna do?”

Ain’t that the million dollar question?

“You’re gonna think it’s pathetic.”

“Try me.”

You thought on it another moment, leaving the inquisition hanging in the air for longer than normal. Alayna thankfully caught on and nodded in understanding.

“It’s okay not to know.”

“I’m twenty-one. I feel like I should know.”

“You’ve got years to figure it out. What’re you in school for?”

“I’m majoring in communications but I wouldn’t necessarily call it a passion. It’s something to do. Just something I picked.”

“I get it. I switched majors at least four times before I landed on taking pre-law. It happens, girl.”

You didn’t have the heart to tell the woman you only picked communications as a last resort because your private school in Texas was the furthest place your mother was willing to let you go. You would’ve gone further west but Texas was the trade-off.

“Yeah,” you exhaled instead and diverted your attention back to the baby in your arms.

“You didn’t meet Nicky at school or anything, huh?”

“Oh, no. I go to an all girls university.”

“Hmmm,” she hummed. “He’s a boy, so he kinda skimped on the details of how y’all met.”

“It’s embarrassing.”

“Even better,” she teased, scooting closer and never breaking eye contact as she waited for the story.

“Uh, well,” you started, shaking your head at your past self. “It was this passed New Year's Eve and my homegirls and I were barhopping. We go to this random hole in the wall and we’re kinda bored. It’s not our scene, mostly old guys in there, not really atmospheric. Kinda gross if I’m honest.”

“Yeah, sounds like someplace Nicky would be.”

“Sy, well, Nicky was at the bar and we got to playing eye tag. I’m not thinking too deep into it, but my friend dared me to just go up to him and kiss him at midnight. I thought she was joking. And she was. Sorta.”

“You didn’t.”

“I wish I could say I didn’t.”

“Oh, my god.”

“So at midnight, my tipsy, dumbass gets up and marches right over and just kisses him,” you finished, internally cringing. “Not just a peck. A kiss kiss. Like full on lip locking. I don’t know what came over me.”

“I would’ve never.”

“I wish I hadn’t.”

“If you hadn’t, you would be here right now.”

“Yeah, but I just wish I did it differently. Or let him come up to me. Or, I don’t know, been normal and just asked his name or something.”

“Doesn’t seem like he minded too much.”

“Yeah, he didn’t.”

“I think that’s kinda sweet.”

“It’s sweet now that we’re dating, but he could’ve reacted way worse.”

“Knowing Nicky how I know him, he wouldn’t’ve.”

“Knowing me like how?”

Behind you, Sy appeared at the door, eyeing the two of you as he wiped grease from his hands with a dish rag. “What y’all girls talking about?”

“You’re so nosey,” Alayna groaned. “Come say hi to your nephew.”

“If my name’s brought up, I’m inclined to know.” Sy stepped out on the porch and his eyebrows quirked up at the sight of you holding Christian. “Lookit you, shug.”

“He’s so cute.” You pouted again, running your fingers along the back of his palm. “I’m obsessed.”

The image did something very foreign to Sy’s insides. While adorable, it triggered the caveman instincts in the back of his brain and he had to force himself to not outright ask if you wanted one of your own.

The subject of having kids hasn’t arisen as it pertained to you, but the naturally maternal fashion in which you hold his nephew was grounds for giving you as many as you wanted. Lord knows he would. He’d give you anything.

“Yeah, it’s easy to get caught up in him,” he said in lieu of his inner monologue. “Lemme hold him.”

“Aht!” Alayna snapped, hand up and directing him towards the door. “Wash them nasty ass hands before you touch my child.”

“A lil’ grease ain’t never hurt nobody,” Sy huffed on his way inside.

Alayna leaned across you to make sure Sy’s out of earshot before whispering, “Nicky would make a great dad.”

You did your best in ignoring the implication and nod. “You think so?”

“Know so.”

“Hmmm.” You glanced off to the side. “Whenever that’ll be.”

“I don’t mean to lay it on so thick.” She repositioned herself closer to you. “I’m just a little shocked he brought somebody home. He’s never really done that since I’ve known him anyway.”

“Surely, he has exes.”

“I’m not saying he doesn’t. There was one girl. Uh, so nasty. So rude. Wasn’t good for him but she’d been around since before I met Derek. I don’t count her, though.”

“Why?”

There was something she wasn’t explicitly saying. Whatever her lips didn’t say, her expression did.

“My brother's not a relationship guy,” she informed you. “He talked about you so much that we were practically begging to meet you and see what all the hype was about. Judy told him not to bother showing up if you weren’t going to come with.”

“Really?” Warmth pooled your cheeks. “He talks about me?”

“So much that it’d be annoying if it weren’t so cute.”

“Wow…” you sighed. “I didn’t expect that.”

“The Syversons men are very affectionate, so you’ll get used to it.”

“I can tell,” you replied quietly.

“Yeah, Ricky especially, huh?”

You eyes widened at what you’d said and its implication. You shook your head and reverted your attention to anywhere other than her smirk to cool the heat of your cheeks.

“I didn’t mean it like that. I wasn’t trying to say anything like—”

“Oh, girl, please,” she laughed, easing your nerves instantly. “I know my man. I know he loves a pretty woman and you are just his type.”

You didn’t know what to say to that, so you settled for nodding. Honestly, how do you respond?

“I know we’re a very forward family.”

“Yeah, that’s one word for it.”

Alayna giggled. “I hope I’m not freaking you out.”

“I expected worse. I prefer this over what I expected.”

“And you expected Confederate flags, klan robes in the closet and a cross burning in the yard, huh?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“I been there. I was just as terrified as you.”

“How’d you get used to it?”

Alayna shrugged. “Time helps. Lots of vetting. Lots of overthinking. You work through it.”

“Hands’re clean!” Sy’s booming voice announced out of nowhere. “Am I allowed to hold my little guy now?”

“We’re trying to have some girl talk, Nicky.”

“Don’t mind me.” Sy crouched down to retrieve Christian from your arms and cradle him to his chest. “Hey, baby boy. Uncle Nicky missed you.”

Alayna’s question about having kids raced back to the forefront of your mind as you watched your boyfriend cuddle a baby half the size of his forearm with love bursting at the seams of his frame.

He was so careful and nurturing. He was so big and Christian was so small. The little boy probably felt so safe and cared for in such massive arms.

The longer you observed, the more you had to suppress a request to give you a baby of your own. If he was the father, you’d have as many as he wanted.

“You’re so handsome,” he continued. “Such a sweetheart. You get it from your mama, don’t you?”

Alayna grinned. “Stop.”

“Can I get in on girl talk now?”

“Didn’t your mama ever teach you to stay outta women’s business?”

“I figured if my boy Christian can be out here and listen in, so could I.”

“It’s nothing, baby,” you insisted.

“Didn’t sound like nothing.”

“You were supposed to be fixing the washing machine.”

“I was. It ain’t take long.”

“Judy!” Alayna yelled towards the house. “Come get Nicky! He’s being annoying!”

“Water’s wet!” A male voice, presumably Dylan yelled back followed by, “What, Mama? He is!”

Sy rolled his eyes and smirked. “Alright, fine. You ain’t gotta tell me nothing.”

“Good ‘cus we wasn’t going to,” Alayna scoffed.

“I got ways of making this one talk.” Sy nodded to you and winking (it’s more of a blink — it’s one of the few things he can’t do) on his way back inside the house. “C’mon y’all. Let’s eat.”

Every stereotype you’d ever heard about white people and their food didn’t apply to Judy Syverson.

You weren’t well versed on certain southern foods, but you were ready to get acquainted as soon as you entered the dining room and saw the spread she’d prepared. You washed your hands in the kitchen sink and waited patiently by Sy’s side as everyone found their respective seats at the vast dining room table.

Judy was parked at the head of the table like a queen would on her throne watching her loyal subjects get in line. On one side of the table, Alayna and Derek arranged Christian in his high chair, Dylan plopped at the opposite head, and Sy pulled out your seat next to him.

“Been waiting on this all damn day,” Derek grunted, getting comfortable in his chair.

“Woulda been faster if you got your lazy ass in the kitchen and actually helped,” Dylan said, earning a middle finger for his troubles.

“Y’all know he’s useless anywhere other than under the hood,” Sy added.

“Is it “Pick On Ricky Day” or something in this bitch? I didn’t see either of you cook anything either.”

“Y’all are entirely too old to be fussing like this,” Judy mumbled and then gestured to you. “And in front of our guest.”

“She’s practically family already at this point, Mama,” Derek continued. “Let her get used to it.”

“So, we can scare her off?” Dylan chimed in.

“Can y’all be normal and just say grace so we can eat?” Sy groaned. “We’re hungry, right?”

“Ah, we’re embarrassing him in front of his girlfriend,” Alayna teased, practically singing the last word.

“Shut up, Lay.”

“Who’s gonna make me?”

“Lord help me.” Judy looked towards the sky for a semblance of patience. “Are y’all done? Who wants to do prayer?”

“I will!” Derek announced, taking Alayna’s hand in his and reaching over to grab his mother’s. “Everybody bow heads. Close your eyes.”

The six of you joined hands while Christian gurgled and made multiple attempts to escape the high chair now that his parents were distracted.

You bowed your head and closed your eyes, only half listening to Derek’s prayer. You were mostly distracted by the dish of candied yams in front of you wafting into your nose to truly pay attention.

In the midst of mentally preparing yourself for what you’re scooping into your plate first, a soft peck is planted on your cheek. Your eyes sprung open to catch Sy pulling back to look you over before kissing your face again.

“Stop,” you mouthed but his lips descended behind your ear.

“You okay?” he whispered.

“I’m fine.”

“You sure?”

“I promise, baby.”

Sy nodded more to himself than you as a way to self soothe. “Okay,” he mouthed now and checked the table to assure the moment was private. Christian’s attention was focused on the food same as yours.

“Amen!” Derek exclaimed. “Let’s eat.”

“Amen,” the table repeated in unison.

You waited by as the Syverson filled their plates, passing dishes and condiments around with some good-natured fussing and teasing. You were content to sip on your iced tea as they did so to not disrupt their usual flow until Sy leaned in again to whisper in your ear.

“You sure yer okay, baby girl?”

“Yeah. I swear.”

“You not hungry?”

“I am,” you said and scanned the table. “I didn’t wanna be rude or anything. Don’t really know where to… ya know. Yeah. ”

“Yer fine. You gotta be a ruthless asshole to get scraps around here anyway,” he mumbled, kissing your cheek again. “But don’t worry. I’ll make your plate. What do you want?”

“They’re cuddling at the table, Mama,” Derek announced, effectively cutting your requests short. “Make them stop.”

“Would it kill you to mind the business that pays you?” Sy asked, taking your plate and loading it up with everything in sight. “If you wanna make her feel comfortable, try being normal and asking questions. Actually, no, don’t ask her a thing.”

“Testy.” Dylan uttered into his macaroni and cheese.

“And who’d you bring home?” Sy replied, handing you your heavy plate and then finishing his.

“Be nice,” Alayna said, scooping a puree of vegetables into Christian’s slobbering mouth. “You know they’re just being funny.”

“Funny, my ass.”

“Didn’t I tell y’all to stop picking on him?” Judy wondered aloud.

“You’re only being nice ‘cus he has a girlfriend now.” Dylan continued.

“She’s being nice ‘cus he’s the favorite,” Derek corrected him.

“Wrong. Both of you.” Judy pointed her fork at Alyna. “She’s my favorite.”

“Ha ha,” Alayna snorted.

“And by extension, I’m your favorite, too, right?” Derek asked.

“That’s not what she said,” Sy sneered.

“Don’t mind them,” Judy told you quietly. “They’re only showing out ‘cus yer here.”

“They’re not usually like this?”

“Oh, no, they’re worse. This is them being nice.”

“I’m honored.”

Your head shot up at the sharp sound of your name from across the table.

“You mind telling us what you see in Nicky?” Derek asked.

“Shut up, Ricky,” Sy groaned. “All you do is talk.”

“You said I should ask questions to get to know her better, so ‘m asking!”

“You’re gonna ruin her meal.”

“The lady can speak for herself.”

“What was the question again?” you finally spoke up.

“I, as all of us are, was wondering what a nice girl like you sees in our darlin’ Nicky.”

Deep down, you knew Derek was just trying to be funny and goad his little brother. You’re used to it from your own siblings.

Your presumptive quietness is clearly mistaken for sweetness.

“Well, he’s quiet for one,” you answered, instantly prompting an uproar so loud from the Syversons that you swear the wooden floor shook and the neighbors down the road would hear.

“Git his ass!” Dylan whooped triumphantly, clutching his chest and stomping his foot. Alayna and Judy hid their laughter behind their hands. Sy smirked to himself, staring his brother down from across the table in a not so subtle warning to leave you the hell alone.

For a split second, Derek feigned offense but eventually grinned in approval. Touché.

Sy matched the grin. That’s my girl.

The Syversons were anything but shy and you liked how nosey they were to a certain extent. For as much as Sy talked about you he skipped out on certain details, so their curiosity was at its highest point.

They asked you about where you’re from and ooh’d and ahh’d when you said Philly, albeit an affluent neighborhood but Philly nonetheless. Their lack of outright judgment made you comfortable enough to dive into how the streets themselves raised you into the woman you are more than your own parents did. When they inquired about them, you told them your father was a prolific tech mogul and your mother was a former manager at a bank before your dad’s company took off and afforded her the stay at home mom lifestyle. She was home but it’d be a stretch to say she was a mother.

You left that bit out.

You told them about the university you go to, your sisters, and what you plan to do once you graduate. The plan itself was dead on arrival but they didn’t need to know that.

After a long moment of talking, it started to feel like you were just conversing amongst friends instead of your boyfriend’s immediate family. Gone were your inhibitions and fear of saying the wrong thing and in its place a sense of belonging and warmth you hadn’t truly experienced until meeting the man beside you.

There was still a fair load of food leftover by the time everyone finished eating and Judy insisted you take some home. Everyone else had the same idea and began packing up their own helpings as you transferred empty dishes to the kitchen.

“Honey, please,” Judy sighed, hurriedly taking the bowls out of your hands. “Give me that and go relax somewhere. You’re our guest.”

“Yeah, but you cooked so much and—”

“ I woulda done that anyway and cleaned up all the same,” she said, flashing a cheeky grin. “Besides, I ain’t have children for no reason.”

Before you could respond, Judy called out for her sons and they piled into the small kitchen with more empty dishes in hand.

“Gone clean up and be quick about it so y’all can get some dessert,” she instructed sharply and the three of them got to work without another word. With your hand in one of hers and a pie pan in the other, Judy whisked you out of the kitchen.

You glanced back to find Sy already watching and silently asking “Are you okay?” with his eyes. You managed to get a quick nod in before Judy pulled you out of his field of vision into the dining room.

Dylan and Derek caught the tail end of the discreet exchange and met eyes behind Sy’s back.

Oh, he’s for real, Derek said.

Weird, right? Dylan replied.

“So, uh,” Derek started, flicking on the faucet and adjusting the water to lukewarm. “Nicky.”

“Hmm?” Sy grumbled, tying off a trash bag.

“You and this girl,” Derek paused, assessing his baby brother’s reaction before continuing. “It’s serious?”

“Yeah,” he answered and then shot a look over at Derek. “How d’ya mean?”

“You brought her home. That’s a big step.”

“Seemed about time.”

“What’s it been — about five or so months?”

“Something close to it.”

“I like seeing you like this.” Dylan chimed in making room in the fridge for everyone’s leftovers. “All grumpy in love.”

“I ain’t grumpy.”

“He says grumpily.”

“Just seems a little early,” Derek continued. “Took at least nine months before I brought Lay around.”

“I might’ve done that too but y’all kept asking about meeting her.”

“Only cus you wouldn’t shut up about her and with all due respect, Nicky, I see why.” Dylan whistled. “Two words: smoke show.”

“Keep your eyes to yourself.”

“And you said she pursued you?” Derek continued, pointing in the direction you’d gone with Judy and then back at Sy.

“That’s not what I said,” he clarified, grabbing another garbage bag to line the can. “She just approached me first. I did all the pursuing.”

“So she wanted you first?”

“Sorta?” Sy’s eyebrow quirked at the logistics and mentally reviewed the extent of what he was going to tell his brothers before adding, “After that night I’m sure she forgot I even existed and then when I saw her again I just went for it.”

“And that worked?”

Sy gestured outwardly as if to say you see it, don’t you?

“God, so you were just hung up on her until then, huh?”

That was putting it lightly. For a solid three weeks after New Year’s, all he could ever think about was the ethereal beauty in a red dress with enticing eyes, glittering skin and megawatt smile behind strawberry flavored lips that bestowed his with a kiss so electrifying it left his entire body tingling.

He’d wake up and you, your face, your everything were on his mind. As time passed, it felt more like a dream. Like you’d never even existed and Sy was so lonely, touch starved and deprived of affection that he imagined the interaction. Were you really there that night? Did you even exist or were you just the embodiment of every last one of Sy’s desires? Had he seen you or were you a figment of his active imagination? Had his desire to be loved manifested so intensely to the point of hallucination? His senses were obstructed he saw what he wanted to see and his brain filled in all the other details like the cinnamon scent of your skin that night, the comfort in your deep voice, or how the curve of your body fit just right in his hands.

Because logically why would a fucking dime like you be in a place like that bar unless Sy conjured it up in a distracted daydream? Who would even believe such a story anyway? The woman of his dreams just so happened to kiss him at midnight and run off in the night like some Texan Cinderella? Yeah, right.

Unashamed, he did ask around about you and his delusions only deepened when no one knew who you were or who he was even talking about. So much for small town gossip. How many fucking models lived in Crowley? How was it that hard to find you again?

In between the doubts of sanity, he was nearly certain you were real. He had the proof in the sticky residue of your lipgloss, your perfume clinging to his shirt even from the brief moment you were pressed against him, and your name floating around in his head. He’d only ever known of one person with that name, so it’s not like it was at the forefront of his psyche to assign to a random woman in a bar.

The faded memory of New Year’s came back in full technicolor when he saw you again. You were real, you existed and you weren’t a figment of Sy’s imagination. Even without makeup and a red dress to enhance your already showstopping looks, you were the perfect image of everything Sy’s ever wanted. Whoever he pictured when his brain conjured up the woman of his dreams was across the bar with a friend in jeans and a hoodie and he’d be damned if he didn’t seize the moment.

Talking to you was as easy as breathing. Albeit nervous in your presence, it all felt so natural. His pretty mystery possessed as much personality as you did beauty and judging by your school sweatshirt, intelligence and brains.

And you actually seemed into him enough to stick around and get annoyed at having to leave. He’s ultimately grateful the bartender who’s known Sy and his family since forever, Mr. Gill witnessed the exchange and convinced him to stop being a pussy and actually swap numbers before you left.

He was forever grateful he listened.

And by the grace of a god Sy swore abandoned him a long time ago, here you were meeting his family for their weekly Sunday dinners.

“Uh, yeah,” Sy mumbled. “Pretty much.”

“The Nicky I know would’ve forgotten about her after about five minutes and if he was truly that hung up on it, he’d parked his pole for the night in some cocktail waitress who didn’t know any better,” Derek chuckled lightheartedly, pouring soap atop the mountain of dishes. “But I get it. She’s a stunner and I’m sure yer making up for lost time now. It’s probably worth it, huh? ”

Sy placed the lid back on the can and pauses, assessing his brother’s statement.

“What d’ya mean?”

“Like all the time you spent searching for her with the glass slipper,” he answered, shrugging nonchalantly and wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. “You can keep her up after midnight now.”

“The hell’re you talking about?”

Derek leveled his brother with an unimpressed stare. “Nick.”

“He’s talking about fucking,” Dylan interjected and skillfully dodged out of the way when Derek launched a sudsy plastic bowl in his direction.

“I was trying to be tact, you jackass.”

“Oh, when have you ever?” Dylan tossed the bowl back in the sink, splashing the front of Derek’s shirt. “Y’know Nicky’s slow. Sensitive and slow like a turtle with sunburn.”

“Which is why I tried to be polite.”

“I’m still here,” Sy grumbled .

“If I were you, I’d punch his lights out for talking about yer woman like that,” Dylan teased, shutting the fridge and leaning against it. “Damn near telling all yer business.”

“You instigating lil’ shit, he knows I ain’t mean nothing by it.” Derek reached over to playfully slap Sy on the shoulder. “Right?”

“I know.” Sy shrugged now too and then mumbling “Not that there’s anything to tell,” under his breath.

He’d be a fool to think his brothers wouldn’t catch that.

“What?” Derek barked, turning the faucet off.

“What?”

“What’d you just say?”

“Uh, nothing.”

“You lying sack of cow shit, yes, you did.”

“I didn’t.”

“You think we deaf?” Dylan bristled.

“Can we let it go?” Sy asked and his attempt to exit the kitchen is thwarted by his brothers blocking the entryway and staring at him with matching smirks of mischief.

“Some’ y’ain’t tellin’ us, baby brother?” Derek asked.

“Move.”

“Tell us and we will.”

“I really don’t wanna have to turn Mama’s kitchen upside down ‘cus y’all are being assholes.”

“Oh, that won’t be necessary, soldier boy,” Dylan practically sang, clapping a rough hand against Sy’s back and guiding him to a seat at the kitchen table. “We’re gonna use our words.”

“I really don’t wanna talk about this with y’all,” Sy insisted, sitting all the while.

“We’re only your brothers,” Derek said, pulling up a seat across from Sy and folding his arms. “We know it’s something, so you might as well tell us.”

“It’s not a big deal.”

“Seeing as though it probably involves that girl there in the living room with Mama and you’re acting weirder than a pig at a pork n’ beans dinner, I’d say it is.”

“It’s—” Sy started, searching for the word in the sunflower wallpaper p of his Mama’s kitchen ceiling. “So damn dumb.”

“Tell us and we’ll see for ourselves.”

Sy exhaled a heavy sigh, looking back to his brothers with a compunctious sag in his body language and a far off gleam in his eyes.

“We haven’t… she and I haven’t done…that,” he confessed meekly.

Derek and Dylan exchanged another secret look.

“Done what?” the younger brother asked.

Sy awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck, meeting neither of their expectant gazes. “Had sex.”

Their expressions shifted to ones of rightful confusion and Sy blatantly ignored them in favor of watching his hands cupped on the table.

“Oh,” Derek said first, trying his damndest to keep any and all smart comments in upon assessing how bothered Sy was.

“This is stupid,” Sy grumbled and rose to his feet to escape the stretched silence. Dylan caught his arm and yanked him back down with much needed force.

“Quit with the dramatics, Nicky. Just sit and talk to us,” he grunted.

“I don’t got none’ to say!”

“Clearly, some’s eating at you.”

“I just feel a little silly is all.”

“Silly because…?”

“This shouldn’t even be an issue but ‘m making it one.”

“Well, d’ya want to…?” Derek asked cautiously, prepping himself for an incredulous answer and sighing in relief when Sy blinked at him like an idiot for assuming otherwise.

“Of course I do,” he answered, shaking his head. “It’s not that I don’t. I mean who wouldn’t?”

“Yer a better man than me, I’ll tell you that,” Dylan muttered, earning a pointed glare from the oldest Syverson boy.

“Does she not want to? Is that why?”

“She does,” Sy told them, scoffing in disgust at himself and then lowering his voice. “She gives hints and all. It’s me that’s the problem.”

“But you want to.”

“All the fucking time.”

“But you haven’t.”

“No.”

“Because you’re…?” Dylan prompted.

Sy knew the exact word, but saying it aloud meant coming to terms with a lot of internal turmoil he hadn’t planned to address today of all days. It’s something he hadn’t even expressed to you yet and he pretty much told you everything.

But these were his brothers and best friends. They ultimately may not understand the complexities of sexual trauma he’d endured since becoming active when he was barely a teenager that resulted in his fear of intimacy and connecting to sexual partners, but they’d still listen and reserve judgement.

“I’m scared,” Sy admitted.

“Of?” Derek asked.

“Don’t make fun.”

“We won’t,” Dylan promised.

Sy exhaled, avoiding their looks yet again because tears might spring to his eyes if he actually let someone see his soul so bare.

“I’m scared because I love her without having touched her like that and I know I’m gonna get very weird about her once I do and she’ll see a side of me she won’t like,” he said with all the certainty of science. “I’m scared I’m not gonna ever be ready to take on that kinda emotional toll and I’m gonna disappoint her when we do.”

“Love?” Derek and Dylan repeated simultaneously, their expressions ranging from confusion to disbelief.

Sy blinked back at them. “Yeah…?”

“Okay, hold on,” Derek continued, waving a hand forward as if to wipe the slate on the conversation. “We’re gonna get to the other stuff in a second, but let’s wrangle it in, Nick. You said you love her.”

“I’m not speaking English?”

“That’s a big damn step to take.”

“It’s the truth. It’s what I feel.”

“Yeah, we know you feel enough for all of us,” Derek uttered, shaking his head. “It’s only been a few months and you think you love her?”

“That’s all the time I needed to know I do.”

“Y’can’t be serious.”

“Why not?”

“How well d’ya even know her to be saying you love her?”

“Well enough.”

Derek folded his arms over his chest and sighed loudly. “Be serious with me now, boy,” he said and the echoes of their father bounced off the walls with every word. “Yer telling us that after five months of courting, you love this girl?”

“If you ask me this again, I’m gonna make your head do a jumping jack.”

“It’s a valid question, Nicky,” Dylan joined in, rolling his eyes to the side. “That’s damn crazy.”

“Not really.”

“How d’ya even know for sure and you’re not on a rebound or some’?”

“From who?”

Sy’s brothers didn’t outright answer but instead let the silence fill in the blanks. Sy’s face scrunched in disgust at the implication and he immediately shook his head.

“Jesus, from Mallory? Can y’all be serious?”

“It wasn’t that long ago y’all broke up.”

“It’s been a year and a half since I’ve even thought about her, let any other woman,” Sy explained. “For Christ’s sake, I haven’t fucked anyone either.”

Both men regarded him with suspicion.

“You haven’t fucked anyone since you been home?” Derek inquired in hushed tones.

“No.”

“Alicia?”

“No.”

“Tatiana?”

“No.”

“Amerie?”

“No.”

Dylan squinted at him. “Vivica?”

“Hell no.”

The brothers exchanged another look.

“So, it’s really just been—” Derek started.

“Yes,” Sy answered enthusiastically. “I don’t got no interest in anyone else but that was probably gonna be the case anyway. But now? I really don’t want anyone else but her.”

“Can I be crude?” Dylan asked, lifting a finger in question. “How do you even know that you’re actually head over heels if you’ve never had sex? It’s not everything but it’s a huge factor in deciding that kinda thing, ain’t it?”

“Or,” Derek jumped in. “If you’re not on a rebound, how do you know it’s not ‘cus she’s just new? Are you really feeling what you feel ‘cus it’s real or because you haven’t experienced her before the way you have everyone else? What if when you do what you gotta do, the thrill wears off? Will you still love her then or will she turn into Tatiana or Vivica?”

The framing of that question stung something deeply sensitive within Sy. He was more than aware of his past and he wasn’t happy with it. The fact that his brothers were too seemed to worsen the stinging sensation, leaving him tenser than necessary in his seat. They knew of the Sy that would fuck any woman that looked at him too long — whether she was single, taken, married, young, older. Clearly, he wasn’t strict.

That version of Sy was unimaginably unhappy and searching for a semblance of love in whoever was willing to give it for the night. That Sy would be so envious of the one in Judy’s kitchen right now.

“It’s not that I love her ‘cus we haven’t done that yet,” Sy said. “It’s the fact that we never had to and probably won’t ever have to for me to wanna spend the rest of my life with her.”

“Jesus,” Dylan exhales a long breath. “Yer talking crazy.”

“Look, I know y’all don’t get it but I don’t wanna complicate what we’ve got if we’re doing fine without it. Do I wanna get my shit together and do it like any normal couple would? Yes. Fuckin’ yes. But I’m not at a point where I can be with her that way without—”

Sy stopped himself, turning his head away from his brothers and further avoiding their attentive stares.

He knew what he was saying but articulating it resembled glass getting caught in his throat.

He was not going to sit here and tell his brothers that he’s mentally unfit for the sexual aspects of a relationship because of the ghosts of his past still haunting him whenever he kissed you for too long.

He couldn’t so much as imagine you naked without guilt weighing his shoulders down. He still did it, jerked off all the same, and came with your name on his tongue, but he was truly disgusted with himself in the aftermath. What if you thought he was gross for doing that or wanted nothing to do with him when you found out your sleepy voice over the phone late at night was the aid in many an orgasm? He reverted back to a damn teenager the way a simple look, innocent touch or kiss flustered him and left his dick at attention.

Hiding how big of a pervert he was for you was quickly proving to be impossible the more your relationship flourished.

They weren’t going to understand that he equated sex with abandonment or how he gets so lost in his own pleasure sometimes that an inner demon came to the forefront and turned him into a mess of a man with no emotional regulation.

Would they get it if he told them he was prone to getting so overstimulated with endorphins to the point of crying and losing his head in the middle of the act? Or that he's rarely ever had a partner who can bring him back down to earth without judgment?

And the mere thought of you, the most perfect woman he’s ever met, witnessing him break down like that scared the absolute shit out of him.

“Without what…?” Dylan asked.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“The fuck’re you talking about don’t worry about it when we’re—” Dylan replied but was swiftly cut off by Derek barking out his name.

“Relax,” he warned. “Nicky’s said all he will say and we can just leave it at that without pushing.”

“He’s not making any sense.”

“I’m not asking y’all to make sense of it,” Sy said, rolling his eyes.

“At least make sense to yourself then.” Dylan grimaced. “You say you’re in love after less than six months and you’re not on rebound from Mallory, who you’ve been with for ten years. Fine. Sounds perfectly normal to me.”

“Sometimes it just happens that way. Quit being a horse’s ass,” Derek mumbled.

“I’m not! I’m saying what yer thinking too.”

“This has nothing to do with Mallory,” Sy told them. At least not directly anyway. “Don’t even put them in the same category.”

“Kinda hard not to when you had this same speech when you started dating her, too.”

“I was fifteen!” Sy exclaimed. “Don’t you think I’d be a little smarter and know what ‘m talking about this time?”

“You said you loved Alicia too and she ain’t been around either.”

“Those girls aren’t her.”

“Knowing how you work, she might end up being them.”

“Dyl, shut up!” Derek shouted and placed a hand on Sy’s chest when he hopped out of his seat to pop Dylan into next Sunday. “And you, sit down. He’s just trying to push your buttons.”

Both men do as their eldest brother told them, grumbling about the other under their breaths with their arms folded. Derek scoffed and shook his head at the two of them.

“You’re grown men,” he reminded them to which Sy pointed an accusing finger at Dylan.

“That little bitch started it!”

Dylan grinned mirthlessly. “You don’t wanna know who’s a little bitch between the two of us.”

“Stop it. Jesus H. Christ, I get less from Christian,” Derek groaned, turning to Dylan first. “I suggest you be nice ‘cus next time he gets up I’m not gon’ stop him from putting a hurtin’ on ya.”

He redirected himself to Sy. “And Nicky, listen. Even if we don’t really get what you mean about you and her, we support you a hundred percent. Don’t we?”

The smart retort resting on the tip of Dylan’s tongue washed down with a gulp when Derek glared at him.

“Yeah, we do,” he uttered. “We just don’t wanna see you hurt again, Nick. That’s all.”

“See!” Derek’s gaze softened when he regarded Sy. “He’s an asshole but he cares. And you shouldn’t take anything a twenty-three year old who ain’t never had a girlfriend tell you nothing about how you should handle yers.”

Dylan wasted no time tossing a random utensil from the sink at Derek, lip poked out in defiance. “I have had a girlfriend, asshole!”

“Kissing booth at the county fair don’t count, peewee!” Derek shot back with a delighted chuckle as he launched the wet serving spatula right back and popped Dylan directly in the stomach. Before Sy could stop it, they began tussling and causing a ruckus as they always did, leaving him to watch and laugh.

“Stop all that hassling and wrassling in my house!” Judy’s voice projected from the other room and it did absolutely nothing to stop the two men from rolling around on the kitchen floor in a discombobulated pile. Sy rose to his feet, shaking his head in disappointment that Derek let Dylan get him in a chokehold that quick.

With Christian propped on her hip and Alayna following close behind, Judy zipped passed Sy to behold her oldest and youngest son.

“No hometraining,” she grumbled, shuffling her way over them to turn on the faucet and direct the hose attached to the sink on the two of them. The men disconnected with shouts of protest and the last thing Sy heard before fully exiting the kitchen was Judy threatening to take her belt off for acting an ass with a guest one room over.

Speaking of…

Sy found you in the living room with the family photo album open to a page of his baby pictures, eyes wide with concern at the commotion.

“Is everything—?” you started to ask, but Sy waved it off and joined you on the coach.

“Pay them no mind,” he insisted, kissing your forehead. “Mama showing you the album?”

“Yeah.” You caressed a finger over a photo of him that Sy distinctly remembered from his first day of middle school. “Look at how cute you were.”

Sy analyzed the husky kid with rosy cheeks, bright eyes and unruly curls. Those jeans were so baggy it’s a wonder he didn’t trip in them. He didn’t have a care in the world.

“Cute, huh?”

“Mhm,” you hummed, smiling down at the child he used to be. “My little fat boy.”

Sy snorted. “I think I was eleven or twelve.”

“You don’t look anything like that anymore.”

“Thank god.”

You glanced over at him. “I mean, he’s still in there somewhere, ain’t he?”

“Life might’ve broke him down, if ‘m honest, shug.”

You pondered that for a brief minute and before you could ask him to elaborate, Judy’s voice broke through again.

“Ugh, god,” Sy groaned, rubbing his temples and then standing to his feet with his hand out. “Alright. We’ve had enough for a Sunday, huh? Let’s go.”

You shut the album and he assisted you off the couch. With a vice grip on your hand, he led you to the kitchen where the floor, Dylan and Derek were soaked and pleading their cases, Judy was pissed and cussing them to high heaven and Alayna watched on in amusement with Christian in her arms.

“It’s his fault! He started it, Mama!” Dylan accused, pointing to Sy as soon as he came into view. “Git him, too!”

“Don’t put me in y’all’s bullshit,” Sy snickered, one hand up in mock defense. “We’re just coming to get our leftovers and dessert and we gotta be outta here.”

“You think you’re too good to stay for dessert?” Derek asked.

“Unlike some of y’all, we actually have places to be on a Monday morning.”

Judy shook her head and directed a finger of disapproval at all three of her sons. “You jackals ain’t getting dessert,” she announced with thin lips.

“I ain’t even do nothing!” Sy exclaimed childishly. “They was the ones fighting! Why I’m getting punished, too?”

“For whining!” Judy told him with finality and pointed that same finger at you and Alayna. “The girls can have dessert. The rest of y’all finish cleaning my kitchen and then it’s bedtime.”

“Bedtime? Yer not serious, Mama,” Dylan whined and cut eyes over at his brothers. “See this is all y’all’s fault.”

-

Despite the fact that Sy, Derek and Dylan were grown men with their own jobs, apartments, a kid and a litany of bills, they did as Judy said and cleaned the kitchen and dining room.

Strict program aside, you snuck away with your slice of apple pie and vanilla ice cream and scooped a spoonful into Sy’s mouth when his brothers weren’t looking.

-

Bedtime ended up being ten o’clock and Judy was still pretty upset with the display her sons put on in your presence. Even if you insisted it was fine, she continued reprimanding them for the rest of the night.

Just when Sy thought he was going to get some reprieve and leave, Judy stopped him in his tracks on the way to the door.

“Yer gonna drive this late?” she wondered aloud, eyeing you carefully and then her son as though he was crazy for even thinking about taking you out on the roads at such a time. “Doesn’t seem that safe, does it?”

“We’ll be fine. It’s only ten.”

“It’s dark,” she reminded him. “I’d feel better if the two of y’all stayed here and left tomorrow morning.”

“Ma, she’s got class early in the morning.”

“Darlin’, you don’t mind, d’ya?” Judy peeked around Sy, smiling sweetly at you. “For my peace of mind, I’d really prefer if you stayed here and you can leave as soon as the rooster sings.”

“Oh, uh, no, I don’t mind,” you said and Sy groaned down at his mother.

“She’s saying that to be nice, Mama. I think we’ve shown enough of the Syverson charm for a day and we really do gotta go.”

Judy squinted up at him in challenge when she took your hand from his and made her way towards the stairs. “C’mon, girl,” she said. “You can sleep in Nicky’s old room. It’s just as I left it.”

Annoyed beyond all reasoning and defeated, Sy followed and only reached the second step before Judy whipped around with a stern expression.

“And where’re you going?” she snapped.

“You said we’re going to bed!”

“You are sleeping on the couch.”

“Ma, I’m twenty-six and yer not gonna let me at least sleep in the same bed as my girl?”

“Under my roof? You’ve been in the sandbox too long.” Judy said, effectively ending the interaction and heading the rest of the way upstairs. “Once I get her settled you can say goodnight and I better see you on that couch.”

After giving you a spare toothbrush, a set of Sy’s old clothes to change into, and a silk scarf to wrap your hair, Judy allowed Sy to say goodnight.

“You know I’ll be just downstairs if you need me,” he whispered against your cheek before kissing your skin and encasing you in his embrace. “Okay?”

“Okay, D,” you giggled, playfully pushing him away when you caught Judy strolling by the open bedroom door. “I know. I’ll be fine.”

“You sure? ‘Cus you say the word and we’re outta here and we can go back to my place.”

While that does sound fun and ideal, you truly didn’t mind. You gestured to the cramped space with a teasing smirk.

“Your place over this? Be serious.”

“Yeah, okay, funny girl,” he murmurs, kissing you again. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, baby.”

Sy lingered for a second, refusing to undo his fingers from around yours even when the presence of his mother loomed just outside in the hallway. He looked as if he wanted to say something else, but just settled for another kiss and backing away towards the door.

“Like I said, shug,” he went on. “Right downstairs.”

And with that, Judy tucked you in and assured you had everything you needed before checking on her other children and retiring to bed herself. The once rambunctious Syverson home was hushed to a creaky silence now that its occupants were settled in for bed.

You surveyed the room and pictured the teenage Sy from the family album inhabiting it. Judy must’ve kept it as is when Sy left considering the worn Janet Jackson poster above the bed, the He-Man and Wolverine figurines gracing the window seal, and a box crate of porn magazines hidden poorly under the bed.

Your curiosity was piqued by that last artifact but instead of exploring further, you laughed to yourself and laid back down in his twin bed. The mattress was thin and the box springs were subtly poking their way through, but it was weirdly comfortable. To lay where the man you might be in love with laid before he was that man was more wholesome than you initially thought; it felt like a big hug.

Like he was almost there.

He was closer than you thought.

-

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