Page 38 of Remember Us This Way

My mouth drops at the same time the bag of carrots slips out of my hand, spilling out across the kitchen floor. “Ummmmm . . . what?” I say, my eyes wide as I gape at my mother, my heart racing a million miles an hour. Noah can’t be coming over here. Not after I just stole his car. I gave myself a mental pat on the back for my checkmate, but now he’s pulling a move like this? I thought I’d won this round, but it seems I wasn’t even in the running.

Crap. He’s going to be in my house again. Sitting across from me at the table. I’m going to have to pretend that his very presence isn’t making me want to fall to pieces, all while his car keys are burning a hole in my desk upstairs.

Shit.

What could possibly go wrong?

“Uh,” Dad says behind me, nervousness ringing in his tone. “Are you sure he’s actually coming?”

“Yes,” Mom says, eyeing Dad through a narrowed gaze. “Why do you look like you suddenly have the overwhelming urge to go get a rectal exam?”

My gaze sweeps to my father, and I narrow my stare the same way Mom does. She’s right. He doesn’t look entirely thrilled about the idea of Noah having dinner with us. “I . . . I. Ummm . . . ahhhhh.”

“Dad,” I prompt, crossing my arms over my chest, completely forgetting about the spilled carrots while noticing that Hazel is the only one who seems remotely excited about the idea of Noah coming over. “What did you do?”

“Nothing,” he says, eyeing me with the same suspicion. “Why are you acting so shady about it?”

“No reason,” I throw back, immediately averting my gaze. Only my curiosity gets the best of me, and I look back up to find him nervous again.

Dad meets my stare, his gaze tightening as if he’s about to burst from the seams. “Okay,” he finally says. “I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.”

“What?” I screech. “No way. I’ll definitely get in trouble for this one.”

He shrugs and gets back to packing away the groceries, knowing damn well the curiosity is eating at me. “Fine,” he says as though he doesn’t have a care in the world. “Have it your way.”

I groan, my resolve quickly crumbling and burning to ashes at my feet, desperate to know what could possibly have Dad so on edge. “Ughhhhh. Okay. I need to know. Tell me everything.”

Excitement shoots through his gaze, and he whips back around to face me, holding his pinky finger out at me. “Promise you won’t get cranky at me, and I’ll promise you won’t be in trouble.”

“Cranky?” I ask, looping my pinky finger around his and shaking on the deal as my tone lowers, my gaze narrowing on my father. “What did you do?”

“Well,” he starts, having the nerve to look a little sheepish. “On Friday night, after he stalked you home from the party across town, I sort of gave him the come near my daughter again and your life won’t be worth living speech.”

“What?” I demand, gaping at my father, all but stuttering over my words, unable to string a proper sentence together. “I . . . What? Are you insane?”

“I was just looking out for you, Zo. You’re my little girl, and he’s trouble, but for what it’s worth, he straight up told me no, but it was a respectful no. It was like he was saying, I see your protective-father obligations, but I know what’s best for your daughter.”

Mom sputters around the rim of her wine glass, choking on the liquid goodness while trying to act as though she’s not listening in on our conversation, but all I can do is continue to gape. I remember Dad standing out in the yard on Friday night talking to Noah. I was so focused on everything that happened; I didn’t give it a second thought. I figured they were just saying a quick hello, perhaps Dad was thanking him for making sure I had gotten home alright. But never in my wildest imagination did I think that my father would have warned him to stay away from me, let alone have Noah blatantly refuse.

What in the fresh hell was that about? I don’t know how to feel.

“Out with it,” my father says. “What did you do that’s got you so nervous about seeing He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named?”

Ah crap.

I wince, glancing up at Dad. “Promise you won’t get mad?”

He stares at me as if he’s never been more offended in his life. “I pinky promised,” he declares. “Does that not mean anything to you?”

Rolling my eyes, I let out a heavy sigh and hope like hell my parents can somehow look past this and see the funny side of it all. “I, uh . . . Well, I need to have a real conversation with Noah, away from . . . everything, and if I just asked him to come over here and lay everything out on the table, he would have said no. I have to work up to that, and to be able to get there, we need to be forced together, over and over again. And so . . . I may or may not have found a way to draw him out.”

Hazel laughs, a smirk pulling at her lips. “Well, whatever you did worked because he’s coming for dinner for the first time in over three years.”

“What did you do?” Mom pushes, no longer pretending that she’s not listening.

“Well, I umm . . .” I wince. “I sort of stole his car and did a burnout down the street in front of the whole football team.”

“YOU DID WHAT?” Mom sputters as Dad gapes at me, his eyes going wide with pride.

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