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He laughs. “I’d forgotten about that. Why the hell would you agree to do that, anyway?”
“Because we didn’t want to go to the tanning salon. Therefore, gorgeous isn’t exactly the term I would use to describe all”––I wave my hand in front of the picture frame––“that.”
“And I beg to differ.”
Sway’s melodic voice echoes down the hall as her head pops around the corner. “Do I hear––Oh.” Her eyes widen before bouncing between Owen, me, and Grady like a freaking pinball. “Um, hi. Good to, uh, see you again, Owen. And this is…?” her gaze drops down to Grady.
“This is Grady,” Owen replies, his chest swelling with pride. “My son.”
“Hi, Grady.” Squatting down, Sway offers her hand. “I’m Sway. I’m Saylor’s cool sister,” she emphasizes.
Grady grins. “Hi. I’m Owen’s cool son.”
“So, there’s more of you?” Sway quips, tossing a wink at Owen.
“Nope. Just the one and only,” Owen returns without missing a beat.
“Darn. If they’re all as cute as Grady, I’d say to keep on goin’.”
“Anywho,” I interject, my face blazing, “Where’s everyone else?”
“Mom’s in the kitchen with Anthony. She put him to work as soon as we got here. And Dad’s––”
The toilet flushes from behind the door to our right.
Turning pale, Owen gulps and tucks his hands into his front pockets. My brows furrow as the easy, laid back Owen disappears, being replaced by a teenager who’s about to be scolded for sneaking out.
“When you’re done with”––Sway waves her hand at Owen, me, and the closed bathroom door––“all that, you should come say hi to Anthony. We have some potential news, and he’d love to officially meet your ol’ friend here.”
My smile is tight as I give her a jerky nod. “Sounds good. We’ll see you in a minute.”
Wiggling her fingers back and forth, she skips back to the kitchen, her pink hair swinging along her lower back before she disappears around the corner.
The hall is silent other than the occasional creak from the floor as Owen shifts his weight from one foot to the other. Then, the bathroom door opens.
“Thought I heard a familiar voice,” my dad announces, his tone indifferent.
“Good to see you again, Mr. Swenson,” Owen replies with his hand extended toward my dad.
His gaze drops down to Owen’s palm before sliding back up to Owen’s face.
“Dinner’s ready!” my mom yells.
Dad clears his throat then takes Owen’s hand, shaking it firmly. “You and I need to have a little chat after dinner.”
It isn’t a question.
“Yes, sir,” Owen returns.
“Dad,” I interrupt. “This is Grady, Owen’s son.”
As if a switch flipped, my dad turns back into the sweetest, most kind, and generous person in the entire world. “Hey, Grady. I’m Saylor’s dad, but you can call me Grandpa Brock, alright?”
Grady nods.
“You like snowmobiles?” Dad asks.
“What’s a snowmobile?”
