He casually held his blazer in one hand and commanded with succinct authority, "Greet."
It was early autumn. Leanne was dressed in a beige cardigan, a white silk skirt, her hair pinned up with a clip, leaving strands to softly frame her face like a gentle breeze from the tail end of summer. Larson remembered a visit to the Richardsons' once, during Maddox's birthday bash. Their place was bustling, teeming with guests and kids alike.
A group was playing badminton in the yard when a boy accidentally hit Leanne with the shuttlecock. His apology was arrogant. Leanne, quiet and uncomplaining, simply waited for him to leave before she crushed the shuttlecock underfoot.
Watching from upstairs, Larson found her quite fascinating.
Opening his mouth, Larson greeted her with an exaggeratedly sweet tone, "Hey, sis."
Leanne didn't mind, but Curtis sure did.
His gaze slid over Larson dismissively. "What, did living away from home too long make you forget your manners?"
"I've always called her 'sis.' Why stop now?"
Curtis smirked, "Back then, I could've smacked you for it. Guess what? I still can."
Larson, rebellious to the core, challenged, "So, should I call her 'sister-in-law' instead?"
Leanne was speechless.
That sounded even weirder. No surprise Curtis' uncle nearly had a heart attack over this kid.
But this troublemaker was no match for Curtis.
His lips twitched, he tossed his jacket aside, and stuffed his hands in his pockets, a commanding aura enveloping him. His cold gaze pinned Larson, "Call her by name. Or I'll make sure you can't speak again." Larson, feigning nonchalance, knew if his dad or Curtis said it, they meant business.
He complied, "Hi, Leanne."
Having lost his mother at a young age, Larson's life wasn't much better than an orphan's, earning Leanne's sympathetic understanding. She didn't fuss, gently correcting Betty, "This is Daddy's cousin, Betty. Call him 'uncle.""
Betty was fascinated by the bruises on his face and wished for one too. "Uncle, can you draw on my face?"
Leanne was again speechless.
That was not something they encouraged.
Curtis, sensing his daughter's excitement, lifted her away from the rebellious cousin, patiently explaining, "That's not drawing, sweetheart. Your uncle is a fool."
Dinner was a feast, with dishes that sang to the senses: roast pork, spicy crab, soup, shrimp with vegetables, and Leanne's recent favorite, pickled tomato salad.
Having good home cooked food felt like hitting jackpot for Larson, who hadn't had a decent meal in ages.
His apartment in Emberland was trashed after the fight, his dad cut off his credit card in anger, and his aunt had asked his cousin to take him in temporarily. Larson wasn't thrilled at first. Without his credit card but still having some rowdy friends, finding a place to crash seemed easy.
But after dinner, he felt surprisingly at peace.
"Hey, cousin, where do I crash?"
Curtis was meticulously picking crab meat, feeding Leanne without a care in the world.
Without even glancing up, his tone was cold and devoid of familial warmth, "The backyard's got plenty of trees. Pick any two, buy yourself a hammock, and figure it out."
It was Larson's turn being speechless this time.
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