10 Years Later

“I bet I will,” she said as she stuck her tongue out.

• • •

Pulling up to my old house overflowed my too-full emotional cup. My mom still lived in the same white house with blue shutters that I’d grown up in, on the same street where I learned how to ride a bike as my dad pretended to hold on to the seat while I begged him not to let me go.

I remembered looking behind me to see him halfway down the street as I lost my balance and crashed into a parked car . . .

“You okay, punkin’?” Dad had asked as he ran up to me, pulling my body and my bike up in one swift movement.

“I can’t believe you let go,” I’d said, trying not to cry as I glared up at him.

“You didn’t need me to hold on anymore.” He’d smiled and the warmth had melted my little heart. “You did it!” He’d sounded so proud, and it had filled me with joy that could only come from a parent’s words.

I ran my hand over the roughness of the stucco as Kristy and I stood at the front door, my fingers grazing across the familiar sharp edges. “Did you tell her we were coming?” I asked Kristy, worried that I hadn’t even warned my mom with a text message that we were stopping by.

“I told her,” she said as she led the way. Kristy opened the front door as if she lived there, walked in, and shouted for my mom.

Very little in the house had changed over the years, except for the new carpet my mom had put in two years ago. She finally replaced the worn-out blue with a lighter new sand-colored style. It looked really pretty, and complemented the various shades of brown paint on the walls.

“I’m out here, girls!” My mom’s voice filtered in from somewhere in the backyard, and like we did when we were younger, we both raced toward the sliding glass door, each of us trying to get to her first.

We stepped ou

tside to find my mom kneeling in her flower garden, a hat covering her shoulder-length brown hair. She was pruning her roses, a job she tried to give me as a kid, but I always hated and complained about doing.

She pushed off her knees and smiled as she removed her gardening gloves. “Hi, girls.” She greeted us with open arms, and we both squeezed into her embrace. “I’m so glad to see you. To what do I owe this pleasure?”

Kristy turned away. “This one needs your help.” She flicked a finger in my direction as my mother cocked a brow.

“Is that so?”

“She’s being foolish,” Kristy snapped, and I glared at her from behind my sunglasses, wishing she could see the holes I was burning into her.

“I am not!” I whined, suddenly feeling like a preteen all over again.

My mom laughed before directing us inside. “I made sun tea. I’ll pour us some, but let’s talk inside where I can see your faces without squinting.” She swatted at both our backsides, and we scooted through the sliding glass door, out of the blaring sun and into the cool house.

Hopping onto a bar stool, I rested my elbows on the high-top kitchen table as Kristy did the same. My mom poured us all some tea, then placed some sweetener on the table before sitting down across from us.

“So,” she said as she removed her hat and ran a hand through her hair, straightening out tangles with her fingers. “Who’s going to go first?”

Kristy and I started talking over each other before my mom held up a hand, signaling for us to stop. She pointed at Kristy, who immediately blurted, “Well, your daughter’s being an idiot with her heart.”

I slanted a glare in my best friend’s direction. “Oh my God, really?”

“She’s been in love with this guy since she was a freshman,” Kristy continued, as if I didn’t pipe up at all.

“In high school?” Mom asked after she’d sipped at her tea. “This is someone you’ve had feelings for since high school?”

I averted my eyes, looking down at my drink instead of meeting her gaze, not knowing what to say. I was certain that I’d mentioned Dalton to my mom at some point before Dad died, but that didn’t mean she would remember him.

“First loves always have a place in your heart,” my mom said with conviction. “But that doesn’t necessarily mean there’s any more to it than that. Sometimes it’s just the familiarity and comfort that calls to us.”

“No. It’s not that.” Kristy jumped in, apparently feeling perfectly within her right to speak on my behalf.

Raising a brow at Kristy, I said, “Why am I even here?”

“It’s not that,” Kristy said again, this time with more authority. “Mom, you know we just had our ten-year reunion, right?”