Page 71 of Rewind It Back

“No. No, it’s not like that. I’m just looking forward to getting back home. Cruz got traded to our local NBA team this year, but so did his childhood best friend. So, yeah, I’m looking forward to going home.”

Wren doesn’t make eye contact with me as she says it, but I still see that little sparkle when she brings up Cruz’s friend.

“And this new teammate of his... is this the same teammate that’s going to dinner with you tonight?”

She shoots me a look. “If you want to keep talking about my brother’s best friend, I’m going to keep pressing you about our neighbor.”

“So that’s a yes. No wonder you look so good. Does Cruz know you have a thing for his friend?”

“It’s not like that. We haven’t seen each other in a long time with him playing on a different team than Cruz and my going away to school. We hardly know each other as adults.”

“Hmm,” I hum. “Interesting.”

“Nothing is interesting. Forget I said anything. I’m going to be late.” She moves frantically, grabbing her purse and car keys. “I’ll see you after dinner!”

She’s out the front door before I can ask any more pressing questions.

My rumbling stomach has me quick to find the leftover pasta in the fridge, and once it’s warmed from the microwave, I make myself comfortable on the couch with a blanket over my legs and my dinner in my lap.

My phone rings as soon as I take my first bite.

The overwhelming hunger disappears when my stomach pitches, watching my dad’s name scroll along the top of my phone screen.

It’s that typical spike of anxiety I get whenever I see him calling. Every worst-case scenario runs through my head in an instant. I’m so used to getting bad news when it comes to him that it’s my nature now to assume the worst.

I’m sure that would seem overdramatic to someone else, but to me, the person who’s taken care of him for the past six years, who has been with him on his worst days, it’s my way to mentally prepare myself. I’ve been caught off guard too many times, that I’ve learned to brace myself anytime I see him, Luke, or the doctors calling me.

“What’s wrong?” is the first thing I ask when I answer the phone.

“Can’t a father call to say hello to his favorite daughter?”

I exhale an audible breath, my shoulders dropping from where they’re hiked up to my ears, and the anxiety begins to settle.

“Hi, Dad.” I close my eyes in relief, bringing myself back to center. “What are you up to?”

“Eating dinner.”

“Same here. Do you want to eat together?”

“I’d love to.”

I pull the phone from my ear and video call him instead. As soon as his face overtakes the screen, I take the opportunity to assess him.

His coloring looks good. His face seems far more filled out than I’ve seen it in the past. Overall, he looks...healthy.

He’s currently smiling at me so big that I can’t help but smile back.

“What are you having tonight?” I ask as I prop my phone on the coffee table, using my water bottle to keep it standing.

He’s sitting in his well-loved leather recliner. “Grilled chicken and green beans.” Bringing the phone closer to his face, he checks out the Tupperware I’ve got in my lap. “But I want whatever you’re having.”

“Buttered noodles covered in parmesan.”

He audibly groans, throwing his head back.

I chuckle. “Did Sarah cook tonight?”

My dad looks around the room then keeps his voice quiet. “Oh yeah, she did. Love the girl, but I swear, if she keeps refusing to salt my food, I’m going to have to bribe my grandson to do it.”

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