Page 36 of I Do With You

Yep, the gang’s all here.

“You ready?” Ben asks, his eyes checking out the neighborhood, the house, and then my face. If I said no, he’d pull out of here in a heartbeat, leaving twin smoking streaks of rubber on the pavement and taking the corner at the end of the street on two wheels. I can feel that level of reassurance radiating from him.

But I’m ready.

I need to explain what happened to Mom and Dad. They deserve that. And a good Dad hug would probably fix a lot of the turmoil insideme too. Besides, I can see everyone’s faces pressed to the front windows. There’s no turning back now.

In so many ways.

When we get out, the front door to the house bursts open almost instantly as my family dogpiles out like a herd of puppies fighting for breakfast to get at me first.

“Hope!” Mom shouts, nearly tackling me in a hug. She’s not a small or weak woman, and she loves big and hard. And I can only imagine how worried she’s been.

“Hey, Mom,” I say, hugging her back just as tightly. But then we’re both panting for air because Dad’s glommed on, wrapping his arms around us both to squeeze the stuffing out of us.

I was right: Dad hugs settle your spirit like nothing else can. But there’s a fresh sting in my eyes too. “I’m sorry, guys,” I sputter, but Mom and Dad both shush me, comforting me with soft murmurs.

“See, I told you she’s perfectly fine,” Joy says, feigning exasperation at our lovey-dovey display. “Maybe better than fine now that she’s finally got her head out of her ass.”

“Joy!” Dad warns, letting me loose. When I look at him, he’s got one eye on me and one on Ben, like he’s trying to decide what the hell’s going on in his front yard. And in his family. “Jim Barlowe,” he says, holding a hand out.

Ben shakes it firmly. “Benjamin Taylor. You can call me Ben.”

“Good to meet you. Joy tells me you helped my little girl. Thanks for that.” He tilts his head toward me, pointing with his left ear. In some ways, it’s a dismissal. Dad’s not being rude, but there’s some family business to take care of, and as far as he’s concerned, Ben’s an outsider in more than one way.

“She didn’t need help. Hope’s doing fine on her own,” Ben replies, smiling proudly at me. He’s not touching me, our hands are hanging at our sides, but I still feel his support and appreciate him being here. Unconsciously, I move a step his direction.

Those few inches change everything.

Dad looks from Ben to me again, new concern lighting his eyes. “Somebody needs to tell me what the hell’s going on, now.”

Mom puts a hand on Dad’s chest. “Jim, let’s go inside,” she says with a forced smile. “The whole neighborhood’s gonna be vacuuming their yards and mopping the driveways if we do this out here.”

“They’re all gonna know about it anyway,” Joy mumbles under her breath.

Their chatter has me looking over my shoulder at the house across the street. Yep, sure enough, the blinds jerk as someone releases them.Busted!The same thing happens at the house next to that, and even Mrs. Rellenos is on her porch, watering her fake dollar-store plants and leaning so far out to see us that I’m afraid she might fall right over the railing and into her prized mums, which would serve her right for being so nosy.

I swear there’s not a person in this town who knows how to be nonchalant. They’re all extra-chalant, all the time.

Mom shoos us toward the house, tutting. “Seems we’ve got quite a bit of catching up to do.” Her lips might be tilted up in a smile, but her eyes are jumping from me to Ben and filling with more and more alarm with each trip they make.

For a second, I consider running again. Maybe that can be my new coping mechanism. Danger? Scurry away like a mouse. It’d be better than fainting like one of those silly stiff-legged goats, I guess.

While I’m still deliberating, Ben puts his hand on my lower back, and I’m too distracted by his touch to pull a runner again. Before I know it, we’re settling in the living room—Mom and Dad in their respective recliners, me and Ben on the couch, and Joy sitting on the floor on the far side of the coffee table. Shep elects to stand near the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes narrowed at Ben before cutting to me, like he can’t decide who to demand answers from first.

Mom kicks things off. “Hope, honey ... first and foremost, are you okay?”

I nod. “Yeah, Mom. For the first time in a long time, I am.”

Mom’s head bounces up and down agreeably as I answer, but then she reminds us all that while Dad might be gruff, she’s the truly scary one in our house. “Okay then, what the hell’s going on?” She throws up her hands, and her brows climb her forehead. She’s not mad, but she definitely doesn’t like being out of the loop when it comes to what’s happening with us kids. Especially with something this major. We might be adults, but Mom likes to know everything, or at least think she does. “When you ran for the woods, it scared the bejeebies out of us! You looked so ... Then you called Joy, and we didn’t know what to think—” She’s gaining momentum, getting closer and closer to hysterical, and I can see how terrified she’s been.

I never meant to scare her. I never meant for any of this to happen. Being a runaway bride and having literal last-second thoughts about the entire direction of my life was nowhere on my bingo card. But here I am. Here we all are. B-I-N-G-O!

“And we’re hearing gossip from all over town. People spotting you here and seeing you there, like a UFO in the sky—but you can’t call your own mother?” Dad accuses. He’s on Mom’s side, 100 percent, always. And if Mom ain’t happy, Dad’s gonna do what it takes to get her there, even if it’s slinging some hard truths at me.

When my face scrunches up in displeasure at being the focal point of the gossip and my parents’ anger, Joy barks out a laugh. “Seriously? You’re not immune to the Maple Creek effect any more than anyone else is. The shine’s wearing off, Golden Child.”

“I know. Doesn’t mean I have to like it,” I snap back. But I can’t help but ask, “What’re they saying?”

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