-
Newsletter
Sign Up📚 Your Weekly Genre Hit List—Delivered Free
Craving the best reads but short on time? Our free newsletter brings you the top-read stories across every genre—mystery, romance, sci-fi, fantasy, and more—every single week.
No fluff. Just the fiction (and nonfiction) everyone’s talking about.
Sign up now and never miss a must-read.
- Author
- 11/07/2025
- 664 Words
- 354 Views
- 6 Comments
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
Noah's Adventure - 8. The Hokey Pokey Incident
The house erupted the second Uncle Matt and his family arrived — doors slamming, voices overlapping, kids rushing everywhere. Apparently, he hadn’t told Grandma or Grandpa that he’d met with the Director of the National Institute of Health… and the President.
“Matthew Michael Jacobs!” Grandma scolded, pacing like a general. “You kept this from us?”
“Mom, I need to be confirmed first,” Uncle Matt groaned, sounding very much like one of his kids being lectured.
“Uprooting your children and your partner without a word?” She threw her hands up. “I should retire and let someone else handle the chaos in this family.”
“Don’t do anything rash,” he said quickly. “Brody and I already talked everything through. We even considered me commuting while he and the kids stayed in New York.”
“Absolutely not,” Grandma snapped.
Grandpa folded his arms. “How long have you known?”
Uncle Matt hesitated — which was answer enough.
“…Two weeks,” he squeaked.
Every uncle stared like he’d confessed to murder.
“So you sat on a presidential appointment because…?” Uncle Nathan prodded.
“Because this weekend was about Noah,” Matt said earnestly. “I didn’t want to overshadow his graduation. I had no idea Director Hernandez or President Ruiz would mention it publicly.”
Grandma exhaled sharply and stormed off. She didn’t yell — which, ironically, was worse.
“Let her breathe,” Grandpa said sternly. “She’s processing a lot more than you realize.”
Shane leaned toward me. “Your family is dramatic, dude.”
“You have no idea,” I muttered, though my lips twitched.
Uncle Nathan pivoted like a hawk spotting prey. “So… what happened last night?” His eyes locked on Shiloh and me.
“We talked,” I said simply, though my knee brushed Shiloh’s under the table and the tiny spark that sent up my leg definitely wasn’t simple.
“You talked,” Nathan repeated with air quotes.
“Why are you like this?” I groaned.
“What’s the big deal?” Uncle Matt asked.
Nathan displayed his phone — a picture of Shiloh asleep with his head on my shoulder.
“This is adorable,” Matt declared. “Completely innocent.”
“They might have done stuff,” Nathan accused.
Before I could combust, Uncle Brody snatched the phone. “They’re fully dressed. Unlike you and Luca when you—” He cut himself off, glancing at the kids. “—did the hokey pokey.”
Every teen at the table exploded into laughter.
Little Brody blinked up at his dad. “Daddy? What’s the hokey pokey?”
Brody choked on air. “Uh—”
“That’s a talk for when you’re older,” Uncle Matt said quickly, lifting his son onto his lap and glaring at his husband.
“Honey,” Uncle Luca murmured to Nathan, “we need to talk.” And just like that, they stepped outside — Nathan looking like a soldier marching into battle.
“Well,” I said, leaning back, “that went well.”
Shiloh bumped my shoulder gently. “You think we can’t match that? Please. We practically invented drama.”
“Oh, I believe it,” I said, grinning.
“Oh my god,” Shane groaned. “Get a room.”
We kept talking, trying to pretend the tension outside wasn’t thick enough to drown in. Grandma and Grandpa were still MIA, probably plotting world domination or something less stressful… like that.
Uncle Matt sat with little Brody wrapped in his arms — a quiet moment in the chaos — when his son spoke again.
“Daddy doesn’t know what the hokey pokey is really all about,” he announced confidently.
“Oh?” I asked, fighting a smirk. “And what makes you say that, little man?”
His eyes went wide and serious. “Tristan told me.”
“Which Tristan?” I asked, trying to keep my voice light. Tristan was a common family name — we had at least three cousins named after one ancestor or another.
Little Brody blinked, as if confused I even needed clarification.
“My Great-Great Grandpa Tristan,” he said confidently.
The air changed.
The laughter died in our throats. Chairs creaked as everyone subtly leaned in.
I glanced toward the kitchen — and that’s when I saw her.
Grandma stood frozen in the doorway, like she’d just seen a ghost.
Maybe she had.
Thanks for reading.
Comments, reactions, and suggestions are all welcome.
-
4
-
6
-
3
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
Recommended Comments
Chapter Comments
