Always Never Yours(75)

“I wasn’t expecting this treatment from my seventeen-year-old daughter,” Mom tries to joke, but the lopsided smile on her face betrays how pleased she is. “Shouldn’t you be rebellious or something?”

“I missed you,” I say into her shoulder. “I’ll resume standard operating rebelliousness tomorrow.”

Randall’s holding the suitcases behind her. He gives me a conspiratorial wink over her shoulder, and my heart sinks a little. In just under a week, my mom’s going to be engaged.

I hear the trunk pop, and Dad walks around the car and wraps my mom in a delicate hug. “Catherine, it’s great to see you.”

Mom gives a small smile in reply, and I notice a faint blush on her cheeks. Dad turns to Randall and reaches for a suitcase, but inevitably Randall insists on carrying it himself. The two of them end up awkwardly walking the suitcase between them the entire way to the trunk.

Mom and I exchange a glance. I follow her into the back of Dad’s Rav-4, not ready to give up Mom proximity just yet. “You haven’t traded this thing in by now, Henry?” she asks with a laugh while Dad and Randall get in the front. Randall slides his chair back to fit his six-foot-four frame, plowing the back of the seat into my knees.

“No,” my dad answers, grinning. “You’d be surprised how long a car can hold out when someone’s not riding the brakes to every stop.”

Mom holds up a hand in defense. “I do not—”

“She does. She really does,” Randall confirms, making Dad laugh.

I say nothing, not believing what’s happening. I didn’t dare expect this drive would be anything but small talk and long silences, and here we are, laughing already. But this trip’s far from over.



* * *





Dad and Randall fight over the suitcases the entire walk up to the porch. The house smells like sweet potatoes when I open the front door, and Mom heads straight for Erin, who’s shouting noo-noos in her playpen.

“Look how big you’ve gotten,” Mom coos, earning a giggle from Erin.

Rose emerges from the kitchen, holding an assortment of silverware, her other hand on her back. I watch my mom for the death glares she gave Rose the last time they were in the same room, and I’m stunned when Mom pulls Rose into a one-armed hug. From the look on Rose’s face, she’s stunned, too. I can’t decipher my mom’s unexpected warmth toward her. It could be the years since the divorce, the distance, the fact my mom has a boyfriend, soon-to-be fiancé.

Or it could be an act.

“Megan,” Rose says, withdrawing from the hug, “would you finish setting the table?” In mute surprise, I take the silverware from her and walk into the dining room, overhearing Mom and Rose begin to chat about baby names and nurseries.

We sit down once Dad and Randall have dropped off the suitcases in my bedroom, where Mom and Randall will sleep before everyone drives up to Ashland.

“The whole meal is nut-free, per Randall,” Rose proudly announces as the guys file into the room.

“Well, I’ll be.” Randall grins, sitting down. “So thoughtful of you, Rose. Wow.”

As the plates of potatoes and roast chicken are passed around the table, I watch Mom and Dad for signs of strain. They’re perfectly normal, Dad serving Mom a spoonful of the potatoes while she chides him for not doing any of the cooking. I chew quietly and listen to Randall recount his victory at the regional bowling tournament. The other three jump in with questions every now and then like they’re old friends.

“What time are you guys leaving tomorrow?” Dad asks me when Randall goes into the kitchen to pour everyone refills.

“After rehearsal,” I say in between bites.

“And who are you rooming with?” Mom has a knowing smile.

“I don’t know, Mom.”

“Not Tyler, I hope,” she replies teasingly.

I can’t keep myself from rolling my eyes. “The rooming is same-sex.”

“It’s going to stay that way, too,” Dad warns, his brows flat.

“Like there’s anyone I’d want to invite over.” Owen won’t talk to me except in the direst of circumstances, and considering the things he said to me in his bedroom, I’m not exactly keen to talk to him either. No matter how good of a kisser he is or how I felt when his fingers brushed my neck. It’ll be my first drama trip in years without a hookup.

I catch the look my parents don’t even try to hide. “We’re not falling for that,” Mom says dryly. “This is a class of your drama friends. Even in Texas, where you didn’t know a soul, you still had one crush by the end of the summer. One that we know of,” she adds a second later.

“Wait, what?” Dad looks up from his plate, startled.

Before I have the chance to defend myself, Randall chimes in. “I caught the neighbor’s kid loitering in the backyard one night—”

“Michael was harmless,” I interject.

“—the week after you left Texas,” Randall finishes.

I’d forgotten I ghosted on Michael, honestly. He texted me a couple times after I got home and then promptly found himself a blonde cheerleader. I wonder if they’re still together. I bet they are—shit, they’re probably engaged. It’s Texas.

“Like that kid on the roof,” Dad interrupts my train of thought.