California Dreamin'

I had to say it.

And as soon as I do, I feel him in the hallway.

Dean.

I feel his presence and my dad does too. He looks away from me and probably at Dean. I detect a slight clench in his jaw but I can’t be sure if it’s my own nervousness that’s making me see things or if it’s really there.

Dad lets go of me and I spin around to find him walking up to Dean.

Dean stands at the edge of the hallway with my mom. When he sees that my dad is approaching him, he begins his own journey toward my dad.

They both are dark-haired—my dad’s hair sprinkled with silver though—and tall and broad. Even though my dad is in his fifties now, he still looks distinguished. And well, Dean is… Dean, the man who gets my heart racing just at the thought of him.

When they meet in the middle of the hallway, my dad and Dean, I realize that they’re both exactly the same height as well.

How did that happen? And how did I not know this before?

They both stand in front of each other for a few seconds. I can’t see the expression on my dad’s face but I do see Dean.

I see the respect in his eyes for my dad. Not to mention the love and nostalgia. His brown eyes are brimming with it.

But that’s his only tell.

With my mother, Dean was more open and affectionate. But with my dad, he’s reserved. His features barely show that he’s seeing my dad after two whole years.

“Simon,” Dean greets him with a short nod while offering my dad his hand.

I wait with bated breath for Dad to take it.

Take it, Dad.

My dad doesn’t. He doesn’t take Dean’s hand.

He does one better.

He steps up and gives Dean a hug, which Dean immediately returns. In fact, he even closes his eyes and clenches his jaw in that typical way of his, when he’s overcome by emotions. And I realize that he was waiting my dad to make the first move.

For some reason, Dean was waiting for my dad to welcome him back into our family.

It’s stupid, right? He’s always been family.

“It’s good to see you,” Dad says and I can sense that his eyes are closed as well, and he’s hugging Dean as tightly as he was hugging me.

“It’s good to be back,” Dean says.

I try to control it but a huge smile stretches across my lips.

I’m so engrossed in watching them together that I have no idea when both Mom and Brendan sidle up to me.

I grab onto Mom’s arm. “Everything is going to be okay, right?”

She kisses the side of my forehead. “Yes.”

Feeling happy, I wind my arm around Brendan’s neck and kiss his cheek; I have to get up on my tiptoes to do that though. “You’ve got a big mouth, don’t you? I’ll stuff it with dirt if you don’t keep it shut.”

He grins, winding his own arm around my neck and hugging me to his side. “I’d like to see you try, Tiny.”

After their meeting in the hallway, Dad and Dean, along with all of us, go into the living room. We spend a couple of hours talking and hanging out and eating all the Christmas cookies that Mom made.

As delicious as they are, I have to admit that I’ll enjoy them more once Dean has his talk with Dad. As it is, I sit there nibbling on things with half a heart that’s beating with a power of two.

The only time I get distracted from the impending conversation is when Mom mentions that there’s going to be a get-together on Christmas Eve—tomorrow—and her friends from Heartstone and a couple of other people are coming.

“So you mean, Aunt Renn and Uncle Tristan and Aunt Penny?” I ask, referring to my mom’s friends.

“Yes.” My mom beams.

“What about Auntie Vi and Uncle Graham?”

“Of course. Everyone’s coming.”

“Like their kids too? Rosie?” My innocence knows no bounds here. “Is Rosie coming?”

Mom’s irritated but she answers anyway, “Yes, Fallon. All the kids are going to be here, including Rosie.”

I shrug, so proud of myself for maintaining my smooth façade. “I was just asking.”

Dean gives me a weird look and so does my dad, but I ignore them both.

My entire focus is on a fourteen-year-old boy called Brendan Blackwood, a.k.a. my brother.

Brendan perked up at the mention of Auntie Vi’s—I only call her auntie because I’m closest to her—and Uncle Graham’s sweet and shy twelve-year-old daughter, Rose Edwards. Everyone calls her Rosie though. I totally get it; she’s super pretty and delicate like a flower.

Completely opposite to how my brother is, loud and playful and brash.

But then, opposites attract, right?

At least I hope so. Because Brendan has a huge crush on her.

Oh, he tries to deny it and act cool and composed when she’s around. But I know him. I know the tips of his ears blush when he’s in extreme distress. And that’s what happens when he sees her.