I heard them shuffling in the kitchen, no doubt righting their clothes.
Thank God there had been no exposed body parts.
I might’ve been traumatized for life.
“Willow!” I heard my mom call my name, but I was already headed for the stairs. “We didn’t know you were coming home.”
“Yeah, I kinda sorta forgot to call on my way out of hell,” I muttered under my breath, hurrying up the steps.
“Willow.” She called again and this time her voice was close.
I paused on the stairs and turned to find her standing at the bottom of the staircase with her hands on her hips.
“Are you okay, honey?” A wrinkle marred her brow.
With her wild and untamable blonde hair, kind blue eyes, and boho chic style, my mom was still a knockout at forty-one years old.
“Just dandy.”
She narrowed her eyes on me. “Spill it, I know you’re lying.”
Groaning, I stomped up the rest of the stairs. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
I headed down the hall and up the attic stairs to my bedroom.
I knew my mom was following, but I acted like I didn’t notice.
Kicking off my black and white Chucks I belly flopped onto my gray and yellow paisley bedspread. Wrapping my arms around the pillow I inhaled the familiar scent of the lavender fabric softener my mom always used.
The bed dipped near my feet.
“What happened, sweetie?” She asked.
I rolled over onto my back and frowned. “Everything.”
“Talking about it will probably make you feel better.”
“And so will this tea.”
I smiled at the sound of my dad’s voice as he appeared in the doorway of my room.
“Hi, dad.”
“Hey, princess.”
I might’ve been nineteen years old now, but I would always be my daddy’s princess.
He handed me one of the cups of tea and gave the other to my mom.
Pulling out the fluffy white swivel desk chair he took a seat and clasped his hands together.
“We weren’t expecting you home.”
I snorted. “I kinda figured that out. I’m sorry. I should’ve called. Where are Mascen and Lylah?” I looked around like they might suddenly jump out from behind my bed.
He chuckled. “They’re still in school. The high school hasn’t let out for the summer yet.”
“Oh, right,” I mumbled, having forgotten that my college courses ended before their schedule did.
“What happened with your road trip?” My mom asked.
“My friends are a bunch of cunt waffles.”
“Willow!” She admonished. “That’s not nice.”
“They’re not nice,” I reasoned. Waving my arms dramatically, I began to explain my tragic tale. “I showed up at Lauren’s apartment, where I was supposed to pick her and Greta up—and someone please explain to me who the hell would name their child Greta. I mean, honestly.”
“Willow,” my mom warned.
She said my name a lot.
She even had different ways of saying it.
So I’d know when I was in trouble, or she was irritated.
She was definitely irritated at the moment.
Me interrupting her and my dad about to go at it like a couple of rabbits probably added to that—not just my tendency to ramble endlessly.
“Sorry,” I said, even though I wasn’t really sorry. “Anyway, I get there, and I’m knocking on the door, and I’m all like, ‘Let’s gooooo my kemo-sabes!’ and then Lauren opens the door dressed in a robe. A robe. And informs me that they’ve changed their minds and roughing it isn’t appealing. Instead, they’re going to the Hamptons because Greta’s parents have a place there beside Ryan Goosling or whatever his name is.” I paused, pulling in a lungful of air. “I just don’t understand who in their right mind would pass up a road trip in order to sunbathe and spy on a guy with a name that sounds like goose.”
My parents stared at me and then their eyes slid to each other.
They both looked like they were fighting laughter at my pain.
Jerks.
I lifted the cup of tea to my lips and winced at the taste before setting the mug on the bedside table.
My dad, he tried, but he could not make tea to save himself.
“Princess, not everyone’s like you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I bristled.
He chuckled. “Simmer down, Tiger. All I’m saying is, you’re adventurous. A sedentary life isn’t for you. Most people aren’t like that. They’re afraid to put themselves out there into the unknown, but you’re not.”
“Are you saying I should join the traveling circus? Because that idea is looking more appealing every day.”
“Nah,” he laughed and leaned forward to tap his finger against my toe, “I’d miss you too much. Sending you off to college was bad enough.”
I frowned at the mention of college.
“What is it?” My mom asked softly, picking up on the sudden shift in me. She was perceptive like that.
I shrugged, picking up one of the many throw pillows on my bed and hugged it to my chest.
“Nothing,” I lied. “I’m just tired and cranky.”
She looked at me doubtfully. “Are you sure that’s it?”
I nodded.
I knew my mom and dad wouldn’t care if I threw my hands up and said college wasn’t for me. But that was the thing. I didn’t know that. I was completely and utterly clueless. Maybe college was for me and I was just at the wrong one.
Or maybe it wasn’t.
I didn’t know.
And I was afraid I never would.
I was terrified of graduating from college with a degree in something I didn’t even like and being stuck.
Stuck and Willow Wade did not go well together.
But it was hard to explain to anyone, especially my parents, what I wanted when I didn’t even know.
Maybe, this summer, I’d get my shit together and figure my life out.
Not likely, but one could hope.
My parents looked at me with pity in their eyes.
They knew I was full of shit but they were too nice to call me on it—for now at least.
Jumping up from my bed I slipped my feet back into my shoes.
“I’m going to head out for a while. I’ll be back for dinner.”
“Don’t you want to finish your tea?” My dad asked.
I tried not to gag. “Nope, I’m good. Y’all just…uh…get back to whatever it was you were about to do before I got here.”
I only made it to the door before I stopped, horrified. Swiftly turning around, I pointed a finger at them. “But don’t do that on my bed, because that’s just gross and weird on so many levels. Go to your own room.”
My dad bellowed out a laugh but quickly sobered. “You don’t need to leave because of us.”
“I know,” I replied, “I just need to get out.”
Before either of them could stop me I bound down the stairs and out the door.
I was slightly out of breath by the time I reached my car.
I should probably work out more.
Nah, who was I kidding? That was never going to happen…unless balancing a Cheeto on the top of your lip counted as exercise because then I was totally ahead of the game.
I slid back into the car, my sore bum protesting at this fact, and headed into town.
I wasn’t sure where I was going, and I ended up stopping at the local coffee shop/restaurant, Griffin’s, for some food.
Armed with a coffee and muffin, I suddenly knew where I needed to go.
Well, more like who I needed to see.
Cramming half the muffin in my mouth and getting crumbs all over myself—so ladylike, I know—I hurried from Griffin’s out into the warm sunshine.
Behind the wheel of my car once more I headed to my new destination.
When the building came into sight my lips lifted into one of the biggest grins I’d worn in a long time and I hadn’t even seen him yet.
I parked my car at the side of the building and walked around to the open garage door.
Wentworth Wheels was emblazoned on the front of the building and inside several mechanics bustled around. They laughed and chatted loudly as they worked—trying to be heard above the sounds of their tools.