Page 18 of Mashed Hearts
She bites her lip. “Together?”
“Together,” I say, squeezing her hand. “Kait Jamison and Josh Daniels, taking on the parents. Like a buddy cop movie, but with more passive-aggressive side-eye.”
She laughs, but there’s nerves in it. “My dad’s gonna love this.”
“Sarcasm?”
“Bucketloads.”
An hour or so later, we both pull up to the curb of Kait’s parents house first, a cozy colonial with icicle lights and a wreath the size of a monster truck tire. Her mom’s car is in the driveway, which means her dad’s probably lurking with a shotgun and a grudge. I park, kill the engine, get out of the SVU and briskly walk to the drivers side of Kait’s car and open it for her.
“Ready?”
“Nope.” She unbuckles, squares her shoulders like she’s about to storm a castle. “Let’s do this.”
I grab her bag— a sensible duffel—and trudge up the salted walkway. Kait’s got her key out, but before she can unlock the door, it swings open and her brother, Ryan, fills the frame. He’s twenty now, taller than me, built like a linebacker, and his jaw literally drops.
“No freaking way. Josh?” He barrels past Kait, nearly knocking her into a snowbank, and tackles me in a hug that lifts me off my feet. “Dude! You’re here! This is epic!”
“Easy there, tiger,” I laugh, clapping his back. “Good to see you too.”
Kait’s mom appears behind him, apron dusted with flour, eyes wide and sparkling. “Josh! Oh my goodness!” She cups my face like I’m still the scrawny kid who used to mow their lawn for gas money. “Look at you, all grown up and so very tan! Kaitlyn, why didn’t you tell us?”
Kait shrugs, cheeks pink. “It’s… new.”
“New, old, whatever,” her mom says, waving us inside. “Come in, come in! I’ve got cocoa and those thumbprint cookies you used to inhale, Josh.”
The house smells like cinnamon and pine, same as always. But then there’s her dad, standing at the foot of the stairs like a sentinel in a flannel shirt. His arms are crossed, his salt-and-pepper beard doing nothing to hide the frown. His eyes flick from me to Kait to our joined hands, and I swear the temperature drops ten degrees.
“Josh,” he says, voice flat.
“Mr. Jamison.” I nod, trying not to sweat through my coat. “Good to see you, sir.”
He grunts. Kait squeezes my hand like a lifeline.
Ryan, oblivious to the tension, slaps my shoulder. “Dude, you surf? You gotta teach me over break. Maybe I will go out to California like you did.”
“Hardly,” I say, grinning. “But I’ll get you up on a board if you make it out there and I’m there. I’m not exactly sure of my whereabouts.”
Kait’s mom ushers us to the kitchen, chattering about cookie recipes and how Kait’s thesis is “so impressive.” Her dad trails behind, silent but radiating withI’m watching youvibes. We settle at the island, cocoa steaming, cookies piled high. Ryan’s grilling me about UCLA, Kait’s mom is asking about my brothers, and I’m trying to keep up while hyper-aware of her dad’s stare boring holes into my skull.
Kait’s in the middle of telling her mom about Friendsgiving when her dad clears his throat. “Kaitlyn. A word.”
She sighs but follows him to the living room. I catch her eye, mouthingyou got this.She flips me a subtle middle finger, and I choke on a cookie.
Through the doorway, I hear their voices. Her dad’s first: “Long distance, Kaitlyn. You know how that ended last time.”
“I’m not eighteen anymore, Dad. I’m an adult. I can make my own decisions.”
“He hurt you.”
“He’s trying not to. And I’m not going to let that happen this time. Give him a chance. Please.”
Silence. Then her dad’s gruff, “I’m watching him.”
Kait reappears, cheeks flushed but resolute. She slides back onto her stool, bumps my shoulder. “He’ll come around.”
Her mom winks. “He always does. Remember when you brought home that stray cat? He grumbled for a week, then built it a heated house.”
