Page 53 of The Risk

“Yup, come in.”

He opens the door and leans against the frame. “You want anything special for dinner tonight?”

“Oh, don’t worry,” I tell him, amused. “You don’t have to cook.”

“Wasn’t gonna. I thought we’d order a pizza.”

I snicker. “You know I’ve seen those meal plans you force the boys to follow, right? And meanwhile you’re over here ordering pizzas?”

“You’re home,” he says with a shrug. “It’s cause for celebration.”

Is it? Our interactions are so strained and awkward that it feels like two strangers talking to each other. There’s no warmth between us anymore. No hostility, either, but he’s definitely not the same man who used to call me Peaches.

“Okay, then. Pizza sounds great,” I say.

A short silence falls. He seems to be examining me, searching my gaze for…something.

For some reason, I feel it’s imperative to say, “I’m an adult now.”

Except sayingI’m an adult nowpretty much ensures that the person claiming adulthood is viewed as the complete opposite.

Dad’s mouth quirks wryly. “Well aware of that.”

“I mean, just because I’m staying here for a week or so doesn’t mean you can give me the ‘you live under my roof, you follow my rules’ shtick. I won’t follow a curfew.”

“And I won’t have you lumbering in here drunk at four in the morning.”

I roll my eyes. “That’s not really a habit of mine. But I might come home a little tipsy around midnight after hanging out with my friends. And I don’t need you to lecture me about it.”

Dad drags his hand over his close-cropped hair. He’s sported this no-nonsense military buzz cut as far back as I can remember. Dad doesn’t like to waste time on frivolous things. Like hair.

“You do your thing, I do mine,” I finish. “Deal?”

“As long as your thing doesn’t harm yourself or others, then I won’t have a reason to interfere.”

My throat grows tight. I hate that when he looks at me, he still sees that self-destructive girl with the poor decision-making process. But I’m not her anymore. I haven’t been her for a long time.

Dad turns away. “Let me know when you’re getting hungry and I’ll place the pizza order.”

He firmly closes the door behind him.

Welcome home, I think.

14

BRENNA

“OMIGOD,BEE, YOU WOULD’VEDIED!”IT’SFRIDAY NIGHT ANDI’m on the phone with Summer, who’s filling me in on the crazy shit that apparently went down yesterday, courtesy of one Rupi Miller.

“She seriously showed up at the house and dragged Hollis on a date?” The balls on that girl. I love it.

“Yes! She was wearing the cutest black dress with a white lace collar and really sweet heels, and he’s sitting on the couch in sweatpants, playing video games with Fitz. She took one look at him and screamed, ‘Upstairs! Now!’ You should have seen his face.”

I’m in public, so I can’t hoot the way I want to. But I’m hooting inside, because I cantotallypicture Hollis’s expression. “I bet he thought he was about to get laid.”

“I don’t know what he thought. She’s been texting him all week about their ‘big date,’ but he thought it was some sort of joke. He didn’t actually believe there’d be a date until she showed up at our door to pick him up.” Summer starts laughing hysterically. “So she took him upstairs and went to his closet andpicked out an outfit for him—”

A cackle slips out. I can’t help it, and I don’t care if everyone at the train station hears it. This is priceless.

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