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“Yes, of course we will,” he said, turning his hand in hers to squeeze. They both looked at Malcolm and smiled.
There was a lot to be frustrated at in their words. A kernel of heat slid into his chest, but not the inferno he was expecting. He swallowed his first response. “I appreciate that,” was all he said.
“But we still want to be there to see our grandchild brought into the world.” His father added a nod to emphasize the point.
“Yes!” His mother leaned forward, placing her hand on Malcolm’s knee. “As long as you’re there as well. If anything happens, Katie will need you. You’re so much stronger than us.”
Malcolm swallowed. “I’ll be there. Blake will be too. You know. Her husband.”
“Well, of course he will.” His father laughed. “Your friend has his own issues, though. We were surprised you approved of their marriage, but since you’ll always be there for Katie, it’s no problem.” He shrugged.
“Blake’s a good man.” Malcolm swallowed. The heat in his chest was spreading.
“You’ve always been a good friend to him,” his mother said. “But the way he was raised leaves questions. And that mother of his.” She turned toward her husband, and he nodded at whatever her expression said to him. “The truth is, we’ve been worried his mother would be around our granddaughter too much.”
“Blake’s taken care of it,” Malcolm said. “But you should talk to him and Katie about your concerns.”
His mother waved her hand. “Oh, you’re so much better at that stuff. We should have expected you to have taken care of it already.”
Malcolm didn’t bother to correct them. Blake had done everything on his own, though Malcolm had offered him an ear if he needed it. Blake knew how Malcolm felt about his mother. She made his own parents look like saints.
He pushed to his feet. “I should go. Someone’s waiting for me.”
His mother rose as well. “Oh, is it that waitress we met?” She smiled at him as she walked him to the door. “She seemed sweet on you. Are you dating now?”
The heat in Malcolm’s chest faded to warmth. “I’m working on it.” There was something wrong with the reminder that they hadn’t yet been on a date. Even that afternoon, they were going car shopping. There was nothing romantic about that.
“What she said is true,” his mother murmured. She rested her hand on Malcolm’s shoulder. “We’ve always been a disappointment to you, I know, but I hope you don’t think the opposite is true. You really are wonderful to those around you, Malcolm.”
“I—” Malcolm swallowed. “Thank you.”
His mother’s eyes seemed to glitter under the fluorescent bulb in the hallway. “You’re welcome.” She opened the door, holding it wide. “Now, go be amazing to her, like I know you can be, and I’m sure she’ll say yes to a date.”
Malcolm watched as his mother shut the door between them. He strode toward the elevator, and for once he didn’t want to hit anything after visiting his parents.
Jamiparkedhercarbehind Malcolm’s truck in the driveway, frowning at the sight of it. Reggie and Tanya had been closing up the tavern on their own when she went there first. Was Malcolm all right? Despite her worries, her frown was already sliding away as her hand clutched her backpack. Having one should have been slightly embarrassing—she wasn’t a schoolgirl any longer—but instead the giddiness she’d been feeling since her very first classes let out returned. She’d forgotten how much she loved learning.
The car Malcolm had helped her find was a few years old, a reliable-seeming four-door. Even it made her happy. She’d never owned a car before. Given how little she’d driven while her father was alive, the replacement minivan after the car accident had lasted long enough, until it burnt in the garage with the rest of the house. She’d always considered the minivan to be her parents’ vehicle, since it was the same model they had owned for years.
Her new car was silver, the interior a cloth tan, and it felt more like her than the minivan ever had. She would always be a nervous driver, but Malcolm had been right. Having a vehicle waiting in the dark was safer than taking the bus. He’d even given her a mace keychain to hold her car keys, explaining how to use it.
She grabbed her backpack, pausing to scan the quiet neighborhood around her before heading to the door. Malcolm had never taken his house key back, even when she’d tried to return it, but she hesitated on the porch and knocked instead.
Starting to worry that he wasn’t feeling well, she knocked again before hearing the click of the locks, and the door opened.
“You should have just come in,” Malcolm said, smiling at her from the lit hallway.
Jami’s own smile fell, along with her backpack, which landed right on her toe. She ignored the pain as she grabbed his arm. “What did you do?” The question came out in a gasp as she forced him to turn, hoping her eyes had tricked her. Her throat tightened, so the next words came out even lower. “You cut your hair.”
Malcolm ran his hand over the short locks. “I’m still in the middle of it.” There was a towel over his shoulders, with shorter bits of hair clinging to it. “I think I’m making it worse. Maybe I should—”
“Don’t shave it!” she cried, making him freeze where he’d bent to pick up her backpack.
He let out a laugh as he stood with it. “This thing is heavy.” He placed it in the hallway and maneuvered the door closed behind her. “And you only have two classes?”
“Don’t change the subject!” Jami grabbed his arm, dragging him toward the bathroom. “I can clean it up. I used to do my dad’s all the time, though that was more of a trim.” When she reached the sight of the massacre, long locks had been swept to the side in a pile, resembling a dead dog. Her eyes heated as she stared at all that beautiful hair.
Malcolm cupped her face, tilting it up. “I should have remembered your cover model fetish. Sorry.”
