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When she was gone, I stripped, heading straight to the shower.
Jesus, she sets my blood on fire.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Terror and Dead Shot
Guinevere
“Sorry you missed out on a good run this morning?” I asked Eli as we walked up the trail in the woods behind my house.
He had just gotten dressed for a run, wearing the same type of sleeveless hooded navy top and dark, loose-fitting running pants as before.
“It’s fine, we both overslept. Besides, I wouldn’t have known how to get back anyway,” he said, throwing a stick for Taigi, who watched it fly over his head and then made a dash for it.
My parents walked only a few feet ahead of us, hand in hand.
When I was younger, I had thought their public displays of affection were the most embarrassing thing in the world. Now when I watched them, I found myself hoping for a time when I could be like them.
“How long have your parents been married?” he asked, bending down when Taigi came back.
“They got married the day after my mother’s eighteenth birthday. They actually ran off together, even after my grandfather asked them to wait.”
“Really?” he said, glancing up to my father.
I knew why. He seemed like a real stickler for following rules. “He’s a romantic, while my mother, she’s more logical, and she said that she knew she wasn’t going to be with anyone else, so why wait? It worked.”
“So all those books in the basement are his?” He grinned. “There were a lot of very steamy love—”
“Those are my books, and they aren’t steamy, though they are blush worthy, all right. My dad’s more into thrillers and mysteries with a dash of romance in them. His favorites are any books that take place around the time of the Second World War.” If there was anyone that could go on a book rant better than me, it was my dad.
“Good to know.”
“For what?”
“Research. I am still being tested. Lunch this afternoon was proof of that,” he replied.
I wanted to hang my head at the thought of it. My father had prepared lunch and made sure to add so many peppers to his famous chili con carne that my eyes watered. I wasn’t even sure how Eli ate it. “How much water did you drink after that?”
“I drank all the milk in your fridge, and then a glass of water after that.” We laughed. “After going through that, I can make it through anything.”
It was then I noticed we had followed my parents right off the path and into the clearing of trees on the flat grassland where Jeremy, Malik, and Roy all stood with lacrosse sticks. The two nets were set up behind them. “Guys—”
“Up here, we don’t play no baseball, now do we, boys?” my father asked, grabbing a stick.
“No, sir!” his army yelled.
“Eli, did you know Guinevere played lacrosse?” My mother joined in on the torture, taking the stick Malik handed her.
“Mrs. Poe, Gwen didn’t just play lacrosse, she was The Terror.” Roy stretched the words out. “In fact, when the girls' team was cut her junior year, she played on the boys' team, and they were still scared.”
“Poor old Andrew to this day still has a scar under his left eye from that time she socked him.” Jeremy put his arm around his shoulder. “Good times.”
“Eli, if you would like to be the ONLY one sitting out, that’s fine. I won’t judge you. We get a little rough around here.”
My dad threw me my stick, ignoring my glare.
“In fact, that’s great. You can be the doctor.”
