Page 17 of Home in Nevada

“Honey,” Mom’s voice cuts through the moment, startling me. I glance up as she steps outside, her hands on her hips. “I was thinking we could grab some family dinners from Boston Market for tonight. We’re inviting the Bernards from next door—they’d love to see you again!”

I roll my eyes. “Yeah, sure.”

Perfect. A nostalgic dinner party with neighbors I barely remember. I hate this kind of thing, but for Mom? Fine.

Dad’s no help in these situations. I love him, but he’s not exactly hands-on. He’s the quiet type—an occasional “atta-boy” here and there, but mostly he just lets Mom run the show. When he’s home, he’s parked in his recliner, watching TV and winding down from work. Mom’s the energy; Dad’s the silence.

I used to wonder if their dynamic would last. Back in high school, when they separated, I thought it was over. Mom needed space, and Dad didn’t even try to fight for her. It shook me more than I let on—seeing the two people who were my whole world start to unravel.

I don’t like to admit it, but I’ve always been close to them, even if it’s hard to tell now that I’ve moved so far away. They’re my anchors, in their own way. Watching their marriage almost fall apart felt like losing the ground under my feet.

But somehow, they found their way back. Date nights, flowers, counseling—the whole cliché package. I thought it was cheesy back then, but seeing Mom happy now? I can’t hate it.

Dad? I never really knew what he thought about any of it. We don’t talk like that—not about feelings, anyway. He’s always been the silent, steady type, content to let Mom take the lead. I wish we were closer. Maybe if I hadn’t left, things would be different.

Mom pokes her head back out, snapping me out of my thoughts. “Oh! Do you want to invite James for dinner?”

What?

What?!

I freeze, my brain stalling. Then I take a deep breath. Right. Totally normal question. Calm down, Jeff.

“Uh, yeah, sure,” I say, forcing my voice to sound casual.

I hadn’t expected to see Jamie again on this trip, let alone over dinner. My stomach churns with a cocktail of emotions: excited, nervous, maybe a little terrified. Apprehensive, hot and bothered, ashamed, giddy—and wondering what pants he was going to wear before catching myself thinking about parts of him I wasn’t supposed to. Basically, a mess.

“Have him bring some red wine. And maybe a white, too,” Mom calls, already planning it all out. “Oh, I can’t believe you two are 21 now,” she sighs wistfully. “Getting old so fast…”

“Stop, Mom,” I groan, rolling my eyes. “We’re 22. Have been for a while.”

“Oh, hush,” she says with a wave of her hand. “You’re always my baby, no matter how old you get.”

Not like we hadn’t been drinking before this anyway. She’s so oblivious. As she heads back inside, I glance at my phone again. I’m still waiting for Jamie’s response—until, after what feels like an eternity, it finally comes through.

Jamie: I want to see you again before you leave. Please?

My face flushes as I stare at Jamie’s message. He really wants to see me again before I leave.

My hands feel sweaty, my chest tight. Why does he always have this effect on me? Back when we were in school, I wasn’t awkward—not with him, not with anyone. I was mister super confident, the guy who could charm girls and crack jokes like it was nothing.

But now? Around Jamie? I feel like I’m stumbling over every word, second-guessing every move.

Jeff: You're in luck, mom just invited you over for dinner.

Jamie: Sweet.

Jeff: Bring red and white wine. 6pm.

Jamie: Bossy much?

Jeff: That's rich coming from you.

Jeff: Don't make me revoke your invite.

Jamie: OK OK… See you then.

I step back inside and stop in my tracks, surprised to see Lucy talking with Dad on the couch. What the hell are they even talking about? How did she manage to get him to have an actual conversation?

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