I liked the city, but I always figured I'd like it a whole lot less if I didn't have somewhere quiet to escape to when I needed it. During my first year living on my own in Chicago, I was still bringing home laundry to do and getting sent back to my apartment with groceries and leftovers. I'd like to think I'd grown since then, but it didn't matter. My mother needed me home now, and that was enough.

I rolled the windows to my BMW down as we left the hot, choking confines of the city, but I immediately regretted it as strings of slobber from Rudy's mouth flicked away in the gust and landed smack on my car door. With Jed gone for the weekend, I couldn't just leave him in the apartment alone.

"Oh dude, come on," I groaned, glancing back at him through the side view mirror. "I just had her washed."

Rudy stuck his head further out the window in enthusiasm, and I figured maybe I should follow suit. I cranked the volume up on Ants Marching by Dave Matthews Band and stuck my hand out the window, as if I could catch the early afternoon sunlight with my bare hands.

Before leaving for South Bend and eventually Chicago, I'd never lived anywhere except Oak Park, in the same two-story pale blue stucco house on Augusta Street. My mom made me take every single first day of school, formal event, dance, and graduation picture in front of the stone fireplace in the living room, and she still had all of them lined up in silver picture frames on the long wooden console in the foyer when I walked into the house.

My younger sister Aspen got lucky since the invention of smartphones stopped most people from keeping physical copies of pictures, but her freshly printed 8th grade graduation photo sat at the end of the console table, her smile wide now with the absence of the braces she'd had since she was 12.

As I made my way into the house balancing three bags of Whole Foods groceries in my hands, Rudy trotted past me and found his bed in the corner of the dining room, nearly tripping me in the process. For a dog almost 200 pounds, he had zero spacial awareness.

"Mom!" I called into the house.

Even after I'd dropped the groceries on the kitchen table, the house was too quiet.

"Mom!" I called again, this time up the stairs.

She finally emerged from the backyard deck through the sliding glass doors at the end of the kitchen, balancing her phone between her ear and her shoulder while her knitting needles and what looked like a scarf were clutched in her hands.

Aunt Lucy, she mouthed and pointed to the phone.

I frantically shook my head at her and mouthed I'm not here. Mom nodded with a grin before retreating to the old white leather couch in the living room. My Aunt Lucy was alright, but every conversation lately had been about how I'd been working too much and not dating enough. Who needs a career when your sperm are already dying?

I began unpacking some of the groceries and was picking at the cold cuts with my head in the fridge when I heard my name from the living room.

"Yes, Montana is on his way home, he's just in a bit of Sunday traffic. Aspen's at brunch with Mark and some of her friends."

I stiffened up and shut the refrigerator, hyper-focusing on an old photo on the door of me, my dad, and Aspen at a Cubs game while I listened in on the rest of her phone call. The photo had yellowed with age, and I was missing both of my front teeth.

"Alright, I'll let him know. Talk soon."

I nonchalantly sidestepped towards the pantry as Mom came back into the kitchen, going to the table to unpack the last Whole Foods bag.

"I think your Aunt Lucy is starting to get suspicious of the fact that you're conveniently not here every time she calls," Mom remarked with a chuckle.

I ignored her and kept my tone as nonchalant as possible as I took out a few pieces of bread for a sandwich. "Aspen's out with that guy again?"

Mom heaved out a sigh and put her hand to her hip, having none of my bullshit. "His name is Mark."

"His name could be Fabio for all I care," I grumbled, running a hand down the side of my face. "I just...why didn't you tell me she was going out?"

"Because I'm her mother," Mom stated casually. "You're her brother."

I went back to the fridge to pull out some cold cuts and mustard. "Whatever," I groaned. "I don't like him."

"Why not?"

I squeezed out a massive glob of deli mustard onto the bread. "I just don't. He's a 15 year old boy, and-"

She let out a hollow chuckle. "And you know what 15 year old boys are like, right?"

"Exactly!" I took an aggressive bite of my sandwich. "When I was 15 I was in Lana Feldman's basement with my hand up her sweatshirt."

Mom held a hand up. "Okay first of all, I'm still your mother and I don't need to hear that and second of all, Mark is nothing like you, Montana. If anything, I'm more worried about Aspen being a bad influence on him."

"That makes me feel so much better." I rolled my eyes.

Mom let out an exacerbated sigh as she dropped into one of the wooden chairs at the kitchen table. "Give the kid a break. For Christ's sake, he plays the oboe and was in the chess club at their junior high school. He's well mannered, and he always comes in and says hi before they go out."

I leaned back against the counter with my arms folded. At some point it might have dawned on me that I was just being an asshole, but I was far too stubborn and prideful to back down. I was the only man left in the house, and I'd be damned if I let my sister date some twat. Not because I was so into being the cliche, overprotective older brother, but because my dad wasn't here to do the same.

"Then why didn't he come inside and talk to me last weekend?"

Mom barked out an incredulous laugh. "Probably because he thinks you're going to sic Rudy on him."

In the corner of the living room, Rudy lifted his head with a whine when he heard his name.

I scoffed. "You know, I don't appreciate you slandering my dog."

"Montana Warren, just sit down and finish your lunch."

And because even though I could have kept arguing because it was what I was good at, she was my mom, so I just obliged. I sat down at the table beside her and silently bit around the crust of my sandwich.

"I'm working from home tomorrow since Carlo is in Dallas all week," I tried to keep my tone casual as I looked down into my plate. "So I'll stop at the cemetery on my way back into the city in the morning."

Mom sighed. "Montana I'm more than capable of replacing the flowers on your father's grave."

I stiffened up and gave a dismissive shake of my head. "It's fine. I'll do it."

I finally brought my gaze back up to her, and the soft, far too sympathetic look she gave me had me tearing it away again. I could handle grief, but I couldn't handle pity.

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Rudy and I did not fit in the full-sized bed in my teenage bedroom. It had remained untouched since before I left for Notre Dame, with the same navy comforter on the same too-small Pottery Barn bed frame. A faded Notre Dame pennant hung over my desk - a reminder that I knew I'd be going there before I'd even touched the halls of my high school. 

At my mother's insistence - probably because I usually had one too many beers at dinner - I slept here most Sunday nights. Sometimes on Monday's I went straight to work from there, which was why I always kept a spare suit in my car.

I fired off a quick text to Jed just letting him know he could lock up since I wouldn't be coming back to the apartment, and my thumb hovered over the fresh text message thread I had with Kiernan. We'd exchanged numbers earlier after we more or less ambushed each other's Sunday morning, so the only thing in our thread so far was the photo she'd taken of Rudy with whipped cream all over his face. I glanced down at him, curled up as small as his massive body would allow, which still took up the entire bottom half of the bed. I took a picture, then quickly sent it off.

MONTANA BENNETT: sure he's cute with whipped cream all over his face, but not when you're sharing a bed with him

She responded less than a minute later.

KIERNAN GREY: it's a dog-eat-dog world, you've got to be a little selfish sometimes

I chuckled to myself as I put my hand down on Rudy's head. I wasn't sure what kind of response I'd expect from her, since let's face it I still barely knew her, but her wit kept me on my toes. 

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some background for our main man, i hope y'all are enjoying getting to know him as much as i'm enjoying writing him. i love my secret soft finance boi <3