Page 90 of Hate You, Maybe

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Head massages.

Forehead kisses.

Safety concerns.

Lip talent.

Boundary respect.

Listening skills.

Trust requests.

THE FRIG.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Dex

I come into my parents’ kitchen and move straight to the stove, where my mother’s stirring a pot of homemade minestrone. “There he is,” she exclaims. “My favorite son in the whole world!”

“Hey, Mom.” I drop a kiss on top of her head. My dad’s at the island chopping veggies for a salad. Cubes of peppers, tomatoes, cucumber, and mushrooms are piled on a cutting board next to the salad bowl.

“Well, don’t get too full of yourself,” he teases. “Because you’re not just her favorite son. You’re also?—”

“Heronlyson,” I crack. “I know. Funny how that joke never gets old.”

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