Page 132 of How to Kiss a Hawthorne Brother
“Good. Good. I’ll see you then.”
I make my way to my car, making sure Perry is well and truly out of earshot before I grumble, “I bet you’ll confuse me tomorrow, too.”
I drop into the driver’s seat with a huff. “It was a good suggestion,” I say to absolutely no one. “He didn’t have to be so defensive.” Because hewasdefensive, his tone all judgy. Even his posture screamed his disapproval, like he couldn’t believe I would suggest there was a better way to do something than what came out of his own precious brain.
I shift the car into reverse and back out of my parking space. “And then to dismiss me like that,” I say as I pull down the winding front drive, not that I really mind the extra hour of solitude before Jack gets home. But Idon’tlike feeling dismissed. ForgetHotty Hawthorne.Maybe I should start calling himGrumpy Hawthorne.
Still, thereweremoments with Perry today that weren’t contentious. When we hiked up to see the view, for one. Did I imagine the energy crackling between us? Imagine him leaning the slightest bit closer so our shoulders touched?
Honestly, I’m so out of practice, it’s entirely possible I did imagine it. But what if I didn’t? What if there isa spark between us? Can I allow myself to hope for something more than professional, even more than friendship?
I suddenly picture Jack’s face, asking me for a stairdad, and my stomach clenches.
Instead of going home, I find myself driving over to Grandma June and Grandpa Jamison’s house. I try to stop in a few times a week to say hello and make sure they don’t need anything. Their assisted living community does a pretty good job of taking careof the basics, but I still like to be aware. Plus, my grandparents have a way of keeping me anchored, and after the day I’ve had, I could use a little grounding.
Grandma June greets me at the door, pulling me into a gentle hug. “No Jack today?”
“He’s still in school,” I say. “I got off work early. Just wanted to stop by and say hi.”
She looks toward the living room, a ghost of something unreadable slipping across her face. “You’ll make your grandpa’s day.”
“How is Grandpa?”
Her expression shifts again, and a knot of worry tightens in my gut.
“He’s okay,” she finally says. “The same, mostly. Just ornery because of all the things he can’t do anymore. Yesterday, he grumbled for twenty minutes while the yard maintenance people were cutting our grass, criticizing every little thing. They were doing a fine job; he was just grouchy because it wasn’t him doing it.”
“I’ll go say hello,” I say. “See if I can cheer him up.”
Grandma June smiles and pats my hand. “You always do. But . . .”
I pause, waiting for her to finish her sentence. “But what?” I finally prompt.
“Maybe just don’t mention Jack’s father-son breakfast. I haven’t told Jamison about it. He’ll want to go, but he really can’t. He’s not stable enough on his feet, even if he doesn’t want to admit it. But if he thinks you’re stressing about it, he’ll insist.”
I nod my understanding. “I won’t tell him.”
Grandma June studies me carefully. “Lila, have you thought about calling your dad?”
I barely contain my scoff. “What? No. Absolutely not.”
She presses her lips together. “He’s only down in Savannah. It wouldn’t be that far of a drive.”
“It’s not the drive I’m worried about. He hasn’t seen Jack since Trevor’s funeral. Jack wouldn’t be comfortable with it, and I wouldn’t be either.”
I hate the pain that slices across Grandma June’s face. My father is her only son, and the youngest of her three children, a surprise baby born fifteen years after her youngest daughter. Her daughters, my aunts, live over in Asheville, and each have two daughters a piece, all older than me, all happily married and living perfectly adorable lives.
My dad is happily married now too. To a woman barely older than I am with three kids barely older than Jack. She and I were in high school at the same time. She was a senior when I was a freshman, but still. It’s weird.
Grandma June thinks it’s good for him. That he’s finally grown up enough to be a good dad. He and my mama, who hasn’t been in the picture since my first birthday, were too young when I was born. Too foolish to really settle down. But he’s different now.He’schanged.
Which, fine. I’m happy for him. I had a happy childhood, thanks to Grandma June and Grandpa Jamison. Dad showed up every once in a while, but in my mind, he was more like a visiting uncle than he was my dad. That role fell squarely on Grandpa Jamison’s shoulders, and he did a fantastic job.
But being happy for my biological father doesn’t mean I feel any obligation to build a relationship with him. I’ve had the same cell number since I was thirteen. He knows how to find me if he wants to.
Clearly, he also knows how to ignore me, since that seems to be his preferred choice.
“Truly, I can’t fault you wanting to keep your distance,” Grandma June says. “I just hate to see you managing so much on your own.”
