Page 105 of Fire
Chapter Thirty
ZARA
“Why does your face look like that?” I ask as soon as the Uber drives off, leaving our bags on the curb of my childhood home. I glance at the stucco exterior and slate roof. Not much has changed since I left for college. Mom has planted some new rose bushes, and the concrete driveway has been redone, but everything else looks the same.
The basketball hoop that my sister and dad used to shoot hoops before dinner is still hanging above the garage, collecting spiderwebs and rust. My dad’s old SUV remains on the curb, adorned with its goofy “Science is cool”bumper stickers.
“Like what?” He also glances up at the house, but I can’t gauge his opinion because of the weird look on his face.
“Like you’re…” I search for the right word to describe the deep crease between his brow and the look of panic in his eyes. “Ready to bolt? Or maybe a little constipated? Shit, you’re not sick, are you?”
He rolls his eyes and grabs the duffle we packed along with his guitar. “I’m not sick.”
“Then what—” Realization hits me. “Oh, you’re nervous!”
He stops and looks at me, his cheeks flaming red. Oh my god, that’s adorable. “I’ve never met anyone’s parents before. I don’t want to fuck it up.”
I take a step forward until my nipples brush his chest. He must remember from our earlier sexathon at his house that I am not wearing a bra today because his eyes are cast downward. He swallows hard. Probably not the best idea to get him all riled up before we head inside, is it?
I reluctantly step back, and I swear he exhales for the first time in sixty seconds. Poor man really is terrified. “You’ve already met my mom,” I remind him.
“It’s not your mom I’m worried about.”
“You’re worried about my dad?” I snort, waving a hand. “Come on. Let me go introduce you to my super scary dad.”
“That’s it? That’s all you’re going to give me? No pointers? No tips? I tried to warn you about my family.”
I tilt my head, feeling amused. “Hen, your family is lovely, and the only negative part of meeting them was that I didn’t get to spend more time with them.”
“Really?”
“Really. Now, as for my dad.” I tap a finger to my lips, trying to decide how best to explain him. Finally, an idea strikes me. “Have you ever noticed how my mom and sister always FaceTime me, but my dad doesn’t?”
“Yeah, I always wondered about that.”
I smile. I shouldn’t be surprised. He notices everything.
I pull out my phone, open my text history with my dad, and hand it to him. He scrolls back a bit and then looks at me. “He texts you a lot. He’s really proud of you.”
“Yeah, he is,” I confirm with a warm smile. “Texting is easier for him. He’s pretty introverted, and always having to be ‘on’ as a teacher and a coach is quite draining for him, so he’s quietoutside of work. Texting is an easy way for us to communicate that doesn’t stress him out.”
“So don’t go in there with a megawatt smile, ready to charm the pants off him? Is that what you’re saying?”
I grimace. “Is that what you were planning on doing?”
“I don’t have a fucking clue, Zara. Just kind of hoping he doesn’t murder me if I’m being honest.”
I laugh. “Well, think of it this way. You’re following up after the worst son-in-law of the century. How hard could it be?”
“You couldn’t have started with that?”
I simply shake my head in amusement. “Okay. Just go in there and be yourself. But keep in mind that if he hangs back or acts standoffish, it’s not you. It’s just him being himself.”
He nods. “Right. Got it.”
“Now.” I glance at the front of the house, where I see a flutter of curtains, and I grin. “We should probably head inside before they start to worry something is wrong.”
I take his free hand in mine. It’s his right hand, and I briefly glance down at it, noticing his firm grip. I look up at him, and there’s not even a hint of pain on his face.
