Jennifer
The SUV looked like a Tetris game designed by a hoarder. Coolers, chairs, umbrellas, bodyboards, a f*****g cornhole set. There was one half of a seat left in the very back.
Dad scratched his head. “Uh… Jennifer, sweetie, there’s no room.”
Lisa frowned. “We can’t leave her.”
Noah leaned against the car, arms crossed, looking way too pleased. “I’ve got space.”
Aaron opened the back door and patted his lap. “Plenty of room right here, big sis.”
My soul left my body.
Dad, bless his oblivious heart, clapped his hands. “Perfect! Noah’s got her. Everybody in!”
I tried to protest. “I—I can squeeze in the—”
“Nonsense!” Dad was already climbing into the passenger seat. “You kids used to pile up like puppies when you were little!”
Yeah. When we were little. Not when they had d***s
