Page 50 of Bloom and Burn
“Just checking in and, well, wondering how you’ve been doing. Your mom and I were hoping you could come to Estacada for dinner and catch us up?”
What? My eyes go wide as I shoot up from the bed, almost knocking Jack off it in the process. They want me to visit? Shit, does this mean they are ready to talk? To discuss things like adults and find a solution?
Hope explodes in my chest and I both hate and love it. I don’t want to be disappointed, but also, I know my parents. If dad is the one calling, mom must’ve put him up to it. He doesn’t do anything she doesn’t approve of, which means she wants to see me as well.
“I don’t know… I’m quite busy,” I say, buying myself time so my heartbeat can settle.
I’m still disappointed and hurt that they wouldn’t let me run things the way I wanted, even though I’m the owner of the Blooming Orchid. And when I gave them an ultimatum, they let me walk away. I’ve loved my time here, but there is this wound in my heart which just won’t close. I miss Estacada. I miss the Orchid.
“Please, Ryan. We want to talk. Give us a chance?”
I turn to Jack, who smiles fondly at me and mouths, “Go.”
I grumble on the inside, but part of me is happy they’ve finally reached out. I do wonder what they want to talk about, and the conclusion I reach is that it’s most likely the argument we had. That’s a good thing, right? Maybe they are ready to be mature about this whole thing and apologize… Right? I mean, worst-case scenario, they will try to convince me to go back and we’ll have another argument, so really, I guess I lose nothing and stand to gain something if they’ve done some self-reflecting and realized they could’ve handled things a lot better.
“Okay,” I yield, puffing my cheeks out. “I’ll come tonight.”
“Great. Is six good for you?” dad asks, relief dripping from his voice.
“Sure, works for me.”
“See you then,” he says and hangs up.
“Ugh, I’m not sure I want to go,” I groan, burying my face into Jack’s chest as his arms come around me.
“I’m glad you are,” he muses and pushes me down on the bed, tackling me until he’s on top. “But let’s not worry about that just yet,” he announces with a wicked gleam in his eyes as he slides down my body.
Jack parks my pickup in the driveway of my parents’ house and squeezes my hand over the console. “You got this.”
Do I?
Dejection flows through me as I hop out of the car. “I don’t feel like I got this, but thank you for the vote of confidence.”
I linger for a few moments before I ring the bell, even though I know they know I’m already here. I just needto get my deep breaths in and steel my nerves for what’s likely going to turn into another argument.
My mom is the one who opens the door with a guarded smile on her face. “Ryan.” She glances over my shoulder. “Come in.”
We don’t really say anything, the silence awkward and tense as we make our way to the patio. Dad is there manning the barbeque, and a selection of salads is already lining up the small table. I smile—because hell yeah, barbeque—but it doesn’t last, because the awkwardness returns as we sit down and watch dad finish grilling the last of the meat. He stacks it on a plate where there’s already a mountain of ribs, and brings it over, easing into the chair next to mom’s.
“Thanks for coming, Ryan,” he says with a smile, looking somehow older than a month ago.
I shrug, trying not to salivate over the barbeque. “Yeah. So, what did you want to talk about?”
He squeezes my mom’s arm gently and they look at each other for a moment or two as my heart rate kicks up a notch. The anticipation is killing me, I want to get this over with. If we are going to shout at each other, can we get that out of the way already so I can stuff my face with some meat?
“We are sorry,” my mom says softly, a note of genuine regret present in her voice. “We’ve always wanted the best for you, but I realize we might not have always gone about that the right way.” I gape at her, which makes her smile nervously. “I mean it. And we are perhaps not the best at listening too, but… we want to change that.” She produces a folder and slides it across the table.
I pick up and open it, scanning through the documents inside. It’s a contract for the third the BloomingOrchid owns in the old brick building. And it’s in my name, with both of their signatures already there.
Holy shit. I can’t believe this! What is going on here? I stare wide-eyed at my parents, speechless but hopeful. If they are giving me this, then does it mean they are willing to let me do what I want? That they will take a step back and trust that I can take care of my own affairs?
“Ryan, will you come back home?” mom pleads. “We’ve made mistakes and maybe it’s a little late, but we want to learn from them. We want to support you and help you succeed, that’s always been the case. We just sometimes forget that you aren’t a child anymore. You don’t need us telling you what to do.”
Joy floods my heart. I’m so happy they reached out, that they didn’t want to leave things sour between us.
I feel a lump in my throat but fight it as I hold mom’s hand. “I like the job at the garden center. That’s what I want to do—to expand the business and bring even more success to the Blooming Orchid.”
She smiles, rubbing my fingers with hers. “Your dad and I understand that, yes. And”—she glances out the window at my pickup in the driveway—“we heard you have a knack for it, too.”
