“From.”
“The.”
“Bakery.” Hunter lets out a loud laugh, and I hear Danielle rustle in the background. We both freeze, glancing at each other and waiting to see if she wakes up. The selfish part of me hopes she doesn’t.
Once the coast is clear, we start back on our game.
Pullinginto the driveway of a quaint house in a small neighborhood, I’m hit with a sense ofhome.The type of home I dreamed about having as a kid. I look at Hunter with his brown hair, slightly messy on top from where he’s been running his fingers through it on the drive. His brown eyes are practically black, matching the night sky.
This is where he grew up. Where he had a normal childhood with parents who loved him and played games with him on road trips. A part inside of me cracks, seeing that some people actually got to live this life that I only pictured with my eyes closed.
My cheeks hurt from how hard I was smiling while me and Hunter created the tale of fourteen ducks who walked past a bakery. Somehow they ended up in outer space with fresh baked croissants and a large lemonade for all of them to share. Fourteen names with fourteen different backgrounds who all ended up congregating at a random bakery and having an intense journey. It was the most fun I’ve had in a while.
It makes sense that this is where Hunter grew up, a family in between these four walls. This trip that I was resenting might turn out to be the best thing that’s ever happened to me.
15
HUNTER
Adam parks the car, blocking my dad’s car in, but I don’t have the heart to tell him that. If my dad needs to go anywhere tomorrow, he can just take Mom’s car.
My cheeks hurt from how much I was smiling on the drive. The surprise of Adam actually wanting to acknowledge me was a heady feeling on its own, but then, when he agreed to play the story game with me, I was momentarily stunned.
It was a sacred game between me and my mom, one she played with her mom, and probably her mom before. It’s been a constant form of storytelling in car rides. The trips to the mountains we took every year growing up, watching as the trees flashed by with my mom yelling out random words and my dad cracking up with the random stories we would come up with. Weaving tales of mythical creatures and humans, and whatever we wanted for that day.
My mom is standing on the front porch, her arms crossed in front of her chest while she watches us unload the truck. Her flannel pajamas are a welcome sight after being gone for so long. I fully expected her to walk out here and offer to help, but her eyes are laser-focused on us, and I understand what she’s doing.
She’s giving me space. I don’t know how I feel about it. My parents have always been the most important people in my life, and if, for some reason, Danielle and Adam don’t get along with them, it will be horrible. I would never put someone above the two people who held me when I cried over being lonely, even if in the long run it makes me lonelier for longer.
Danielle yawns, and I can hear her jaw crack. “Owww,” she groans, cupping the bone and staring at me while I unload her bags.
“You’ll be fine,” Adam remarks, taking the last bag out of the back and placing it on the ground. “Grab your bags and let’s go. Collins’ mom is waiting on us.” He cocks his head toward my mom, who has now been joined by my dad. My heart warms seeing them standing there together, my dad’s arm wrapped around my mom’s shoulders, tucking her into his side. I hope that one day I can find a love like theirs. One that stands the test of time and contention, and at the end of the day, always comes out stronger than the issues we face.
I lead the way, feeling like the mother duck as Danielle and Adam fall in line behind me.
“Hey, Mom, Dad,” I acknowledge.
“Let me help you, son.” He reaches out and grabs one of Danielle’s suitcases from my grip with one hand and my duffel with the other.
“Come on, I’m sure you’re all so tired from the drive. You know how I feel about you driving late at night,” my mom admonishes, holding the door open for all of us to pass through.
“Ma’am, that’s my fault,” Adam admits, and I have to slam my mouth shut because he’s going to take the blame for this.
“Nonsense, it’s no one’s fault. I’m just paranoid. Hunter used to always call me a helicopter parent.”
“Was I wrong?” I mutter under my breath, dropping the last bag I have at the edge of the couch. We can figure out thesleeping arrangement in a minute. All I want right now is a chocolate chip cookie. My mouth fills with saliva at the thought of a crisp cookie stuffed to the brim with gooey chocolate chips.
Taking my shoes off, I tuck them under the edge of the couch out of the way.
My mom makes a scoffing noise, turning around and mock glaring at me.
“With that attitude, you’ll have to wait until tomorrow for your surprise.”
“Mommmm,” I groan. She knows I hate surprises. And worse, I hate surprises on my birthday.
“Nope. Don’t care. Be up and ready at a decent time. We’re having breakfast and then you three can do whatever you want, but we’re heading into town for dinner.” She wraps me in a hug, and I clutch her back tightly. The tight, bound feeling in my chest loosening with the connection. My dad slaps me on the back as he walks by.
“Darling, let him go. He’ll still be here tomorrow when you wake up.” Begrudgingly, my mom lets me go.
