Hooking Up With My Dad's Best Friend

I swear that my brain is pouring out of my ears and onto the floor. “You’re not mad?”

“Why on earth would I be mad at you for falling in love with someone?”

“Because…” I say, floundering. “He’s older. He knew me when I was a kid.”

She snorts. “It’s because of that reason it’s a goddamn miracle that he wants to be with you now. You were a terrible child.”

“Mom!”

She’s smiling though. “Seriously, Katti. If you removed all the obstacles you think are there, would you be with him? Would that make you happy?”

“Yes.” There is no other answer.

“Then take it from me, don’t worry about anything else. Don’t worry about Bryce and your father’s friendship. Don’t worry about appearances. Throw that away and do what is best for you. Your father will come around. The only thing he wants in the world is for you to be happy.” She stands and hugs me. “At least think about it, will you?”

“I will.”

I’m glad I talked to her. Because she’s right. She basically said the exact same thing that Elle did, but because she’s my mom, it got through more. I’m still uneasy, and the idea that I should only think about me is unnatural. But some of my anxiety is gone. The fact that she didn’t even judge me for being with Bryce has given me some hope.

We talk a little longer while we drink our tea—on topics that have nothing to do with love and romance, before I go upstairs to bed. I’m exhausted. Mentally, physically, and emotionally. I’ve been put through the wringer, and it shows. I barely get the sheets pulled back before I’m slipping down into perfect, dreamless sleep.

15

I wake up late.

There was no reason to set an alarm, since the only thing I’m doing today is going to the hospital to see the baby. My parents are late risers too, when they can. It’s only ten, but I expect them to be having breakfast right around now.

Knowing Mom, she might have made pancakes or something. My stomach growls in response to that thought. Yeah, pancakes would be really good right about now. I pull on some soft pants and a t-shirt and make my way downstairs, but I can already tell that it’s too quiet. My mom keeps the radio on when she cooks, and they usually have some sort of casual conversation going on.

But no, the house is completely dead and silent. The kitchen is empty, and it doesn’t even look as if any cooking has been done this morning. Disappointing, but not the end of the world. I’m just confused about where they are. They don’t seem to be here.

I wander into the living room, but there’s no sign of them anywhere. Maybe they had an appointment? I pull aside the curtain on the front windows to look for their car, and that’s when I see them. They’re both out on the front lawn, and they’re talking with Bryce.

They don’t seem to be yelling at him either, which I hope is a good sign.

Bryce looks good this morning, in dark wash jeans and a simple white t-shirt. His hair looks wet, like he’s fresh from a shower, and the sight makes my chest ache. He’s speaking calmly, hands in his pockets, though something about his face looks off. I can’t tell from this distance.

My mom has her hand on my dad’s shoulder, though he doesn’t look particularly murderous. What I wouldn’t give to be invisible right now so I could get close to them and hear exactly what they’re saying. I’ve abandoned peeking out from behind the curtain and just watching. Something I realize when he hugs both my parents and watches them get into their car and drive away.

What the hell?

What is going on?

Bryce looks at the house, and when I realize that he can see me, I duck below the window. Then I blush. I don’t know why I’m hiding. He’s already seen me, and it’s not like he didn’t already know that I was home. My car is fucking sitting in the driveway, and my parents would have told them. But I keep myself crouched down, trying to get a handle on what I’m feeling and what’s going on.

I hear footsteps on the stairs outside the door. Bryce opens the door and comes inside, and I don’t look at him. “Katti,” he says. “What are you doing down there?”

“Hiding,” I say, my words muffled.

“I already saw you in the window.”

“I know.”

He chuckles. “Are you going to join me up here?”

I stand up slowly. “Okay. Want to tell me what’s going on?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean you standing in the front yard talking with my parents, and they didn’t attempt to murder you.” Then I notice what I thought I saw was wrong with his face. His jaw has a large bruise on it. “What happened?”