The closer I come to the trio of men, though, the more it becomes obvious I have nowhere convenient to sit. Rudy and Hank are taking up the couch and Cain's bulk leaves zero room in the recliner. Having no choice, I move toward the couch, intending to squeeze between Hank and Rudy—

"Get over here, girl." Cain's hard voice halts me in the middle of the living room. I turn to find him crooking a finger at me. "Now."

The desire to throw a tantrum sneaks up on me, but not because I'm mad. I mean, don't I want to sit on Uncle Cain's lap? No, I want to...