Mama’s Boy by Avery Flynn
Chapter Seven
Fiona
Curled up in bed, wearing the new teacher-themed pajamas she’d gotten for Christmas last year and three chapters deep into a Tana French book, Fiona almost ignored the buzz of her phone. The first week back at school had been the usual fall chaos mixed with the typical rambunctiousness of nine-year-olds. The book and pumpkin-spice-flavored hot cocoa sitting on her nightstand were medicinal. However, when the second little buzz sounded, reminding her of a missed text, she leaned over to see who was texting.
DIXON: Date one is the Ice Knights/Cajun Rage game tomorrow.
Fiona perked up. The entire Hartigan family were die-hard Harbor City Ice Knights fans, as any right-minded person would be. It was a family tradition to take a picture of all of them in Ice Knights gear on opening day every year, and the photo would be framed and put in a place of honor in their dad’s office at the firehouse. Woe unto the rookie who walked into Chief Hartigan’s Station Three without the proper amount of reverence for the Ice Knights. Since Fallon had married a player, Fiona got to go to more games than before, but there were a million Hartigans in the tri-state area, so she couldn’t snag the tickets all the time, and the price of the tickets made buying seats on a teacher’s salary a treat, not a regular occurrence.
FIONA: I am in!
DIXON: That was easy. Okay, the second date is spending a weekend at Gable House.
Fiona cocked her head and read that message again. Rich people were so weird. That wasn’t a date. A hockey game was a date. Spending the weekend somewhere was a vacation. And that was very much not second-date material.
She was really beginning to very much not like Dixon’s cousins.
FIONA: I am not going away for the weekend alone with you to a place I’ve never heard of.
DIXON: It’s my grandma’s house. We won’t be alone—the housekeeper, Alexandra, will be there. So will my cousins.
The hell?
FIONA: Why are your cousins coming?
The three typing dots appeared and disappeared. She took a sip of her cocoa and put the phone down. His cousins were as interfering as her family. She loved them, but even Nana had moved up to the burbs just to get some space from the family’s loving but constant interference. She’d just gotten tucked back into her book when her phone buzzed again.
DIXON: To give me shit the whole time.
She laughed, the sound like a crack of thunder in the otherwise silent apartment.
DIXON: Please say yes.
It was the please that did her in. Old Fiona was typing a reply before New Fiona could stop her.
FIONA: I’m sending my sister your photo and the address to your grandma’s house. My brothers are huge. Like trees or those robot suits from Pacific Rim.
DIXON: Fair enough. We can meet at Union Station at five on Friday. Meet at the hockey arena tomorrow night?
Fiona groaned out loud. What had she gotten herself into?
FIONA: Don’t turn out to be a serial killer.
DIXON: I’ll try my best.
Despite herself, she laughed again. Then she reread the entire text stream. Twice.
Girl. Get your shit together. This man is not worth a reread.
She put her phone away facedown, ignoring it so hard that she forgot to drink the rest of her hot cocoa and didn’t get another paragraph into her book—but not because she kept planning out her wardrobe for the trip. Okay, that’s totally what she did, right up until she fell asleep with the book clutched to her chest.
