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“So?”
With a sigh, Owen scratches the scruff along his jaw. “Uh, you know how much I love you, right?”
“Yeah?”
“And that I wouldn’t want anyone to ever hurt you?”
“Yeah, I know,” Grady mutters.
“Well, Saylor’s mom, dad, and sisters are the same way. And way back before you were ever born, I hurt Saylor. Then I moved away and didn’t see her again until you and Turner got into a fight at school. And even though Saylor and I have made up and become good friends, I’m a little worried that her parents might take a little longer to warm up to me.”
“Oh.” That same scrunched up face stays pinched as Grady searches for a solution. Within a minute, he lights up like the Fourth of July. “Well, I’ll just tell them you’re awesome, then they’ll be okay. Right, Dad?”
Owen chuckles dryly. “Right.”
“Sounds like a solid plan to me,” I quip, offering my two cents.
Rolling his eyes, Owen pushes open the driver’s side door, then orders, “Come on, Grady. Let’s get inside.”
Sway’s white SUV named Taffy is already parked beside my car, and Skye can’t make it tonight because she’s feeling crappy, which means the gang’s all here. And they’re all about to see Owen again. The same Owen who broke my heart and ruined me for dating and ever falling in love. The same Owen I’ve cursed about for almost a decade, yet am asking to be welcomed with open arms.
Shit. Maybe Owen has a point for being nervous.
My palms are sweaty as I wipe them on my jean-covered thighs before we all trudge up to the front door.
With a twist of my wrist, I unlock the door, push it open, and call out, “Hey, everyone! We’re here! And I brought company, so be nice!”
Again, Owen chuckles dryly before helping me out of my coat. When he untwists my scarf from around my neck, he murmurs, “Seems I’m not the only one who’s a little nervous about your family playing nice.”
“It’ll be fine,” I whisper.
His eyes are practically glowing with mirth as they hold mine hostage.
“Sure, it will.”
Then he bends at the waist and helps Grady slip off his snow boots and winter coat, hanging it up beside mine on the dark lacquered rack near the front door. The entryway splits into a hall on the left and a set of stairs on the right that leads to the bedrooms and bathrooms on the second floor. The hall, however, is lined with family pictures from my childhood and takes us to the family room, dining room, and kitchen that was redecorated a couple of years ago.
“Hey, Mama!” I call out.
“Sorry! We’re in here!” she returns, her voice bouncing off the walls.
I look over my shoulder at Grady and Owen. “Apparently, they’re in the kitchen. It’s uh, it’s this way.”
“I remember where it’s located,” Owen teases. Apparently, my nerves have transformed his into amusement more than anxiety. Glad I can entertain him.
Bastard.
“Oh. Right,” I mutter. “Well, right this way.” I take another few steps toward the kitchen. When I notice a lack of footsteps following me, I glance over my shoulder again. Owen’s too busy staring at a few of the family photographs hung along the walls to follow me. But it’s the soft smile that does me in.
His voice is raw and gritty as his calloused finger drags along the dusted glass of the picture. “I remember when this was taken.”
“Yeah?”
My sisters flank my sides as all of us grin from ear to ear, the warm sun beating on our backs after a long-ass hike that nearly killed us. Owen had tagged along with my family because I was young, stubborn, and in love, demanding they welcome him with open arms regardless of how stupid I was for falling in love at such a young age and being too stubborn to recognize how rare that truly is.
“You looked gorgeous that day,” he rasps.
“Dude, I was peeling like a snake because Sway and Skye had convinced me to lay on tinfoil in our backyard a week before.”
