Page 76 of 10 Signs You Need to Grovel

“Seems like everyone heard I’m around,” I say flatly, releasing his hand and rubbing the back of my overheating neck. Never imagined myself hating attention this much.

“This is nothing,” Kyle says. “When E came back last year, it was all anyone talked about, trying to figure out why you guys left. Half the town was furious at him for returning before the WITSEC bomb was dropped. Place was on fire with gossip.”

Considering E returned after the Becerra cartel was wiped out but before our father went public with his upcoming tell-all biography, the reaction’s no surprise. From what he and Mom have told me, E suffered through a lot of angry backlash as he tried to keep our WITSEC history secret. Guess I can thank my little brother for being the first to break the Windfall seal, easing my return to town.

“Anyway,” Kyle goes on, “I know it’s been forever, but I’d love to catch up. Can’t imagine how hard it’s been for you, especially with Sadie and learning about Max. We should have a playdate.”

I squint at him, wondering if he’s going the condescending route after all. “A playdate?”

He grins. “I have a little girl—Kelsey. She’s three and runs our house. I got married shortly after college to a goddess of a woman who somehow chose me.”

Envy sneaks up on me. Kyle is so damn lucky to be married and present while his kid grows up, but the tension from my shoulders eases. My facial muscles actually relax. “I hope you didn’t tell her you got stuck in a storm drain when you dropped your iPod and decided you’d become Indiana Jones to get it out.”

He also did a backflip at graduation and missed the landing, then spent the entire night with a soggy pack of no-longer-frozen peas secured to his head. The pictures were hilarious.

Kyle huffs out a self-deprecating laugh. “My family has filled her in on my many embarrassments. Cearra deserves a knighthood for marrying me. And a vacation. Life’s all about removing gross stains from clothes and not tripping on the mess in our house while we race around trying to get shit done.” He shrugs. “Beer catch-ups have been swapped for playdates. Although, our kids are pretty far in age.”

“Max is a sweet kid. Might even like teaching Kelsey some art. Count me in for a playdate.”

Us and our kids. Honestly. Who even am I right now?

We shoot the shit about his frozen-pea-head incident and his current job as a website developer, the conversation so effortless I’m actually looking forward to hanging out with him.

“I better split,” he says with a punch to my arm. “I’m helping my grandmother with her quilting booth. You should come by. She’d love to see you.”

Seeing Mrs. Jackson might be another bright spot today. She was the leader of Mom’s weekly quilting group, and the woman was a saint. She actually put up with Mom’s horrible skills and didn’t kick her out of the classes. Come to think of it, maybe I should sign up for a session. Except I’ll soon be in law school, buried under textbooks and exams.

Shaking off my usual discomfort at the thought of school approaching, I swap numbers with Kyle, only to see Ricky and Aaron.

Ricky walks around me and analyzes my hair. “Gotta say, we did good work.”

“All you did was heckle me.” I nod to Aaron, who actually styled the top of my disaster head. “He did good work.”

Ricky pshaws. “The heckling was part of the process. Can’t have you getting too cocky with the handsome.”

“Own the handsome,” Aaron says, fixing my hair with his hand. “If you’ve got it, flaunt it. Ooh.” He peers over my shoulder. “Bonsai trees. Excuse me while I marvel at the cuteness.”

Ricky shakes his head as Aaron darts off. “He loves everything miniature.”

“Is that a fact?” I look pointedly at his crotch.

His cheeks flame. “Not that, asshole.”

I laugh. Guy made it too easy.

“Des!” Max waves and holds up the dangling earrings he was modeling. “Can we get these for Mom?”

He may not have called me Dad, but I love hearing him use my real name. And he said Mom, not my mom.

“Sure,” I say, battling another overwhelming Dad Flush. Not sure what else to call these sudden floods of happiness. Emotion so strong I couldn’t imagine letting him down the way my dad let me down. Having him hate or resent me for any reason is unthinkable, especially considering the websites I visited lately.

Determined to educate myself on being an open-minded parent, I read articles about kids coming out to their parents and parents dealing with their children’s sexuality. The night I read that kids who aren’t accepted by their parents have a higher risk of suicide, depression, and drug use, I barely slept.

Before I know what I’m doing, I turn to Ricky and lower my voice. “When you came out to your parents, was there anything you wish they did or didn’t say? Anything they could’ve done better?”

He blinks at me. “Segue much?”

“Just, you know, hoping it all went smoothly for you.” Even though I’m far from smooth or subtle with my abrupt question. But I don’t feel right mentioning Max specifically, talking about him behind his back.