“How you doing, tough guy?” Darla bent over and ruffled the top of his dark blond bed head.
Summer vacation had just started for James, and I’d been counting the minutes for Darla to come home for a few weeks. She’d just finished her junior year and her third season playing tennis at the University of Miami. She could have gone on the national circuit, but becoming a marine veterinarian took precedence. She got the big D-1 scholarship, and after that was set to devote herself to the health of dolphins and turtles and Lord knew what else. Not the type of doctor I’d told her she could be when she was little, but even more impressive in our minds. I credit most of her achievements to Drew constantly telling her she could do anything.
“Pretty good. Made honor roll.”
“Good. Should do it every semester, little bro. What about swimming?”
I chuckled at that. Darla had been his second mother since he was born, doting on him, seeing to his every need, pushing him to be the best.
“Swimming for the team at Rocky Brook this summer. Getting ready for eighth grade.”
“You’ve got to be the best to swim in high school. This is Florida, so don’t let up.”
“Yeah, yeah. Can I unpause my game now?”
“Yep. Where’s Mom?”
“Right here.” I sneaked out from the corner where I’d been eavesdropping.
We still lived in the coastal house. I could never leave it. We’d remodeled and added two additions, but it was home. I was going to die here, no matter what Drew said.
“Hey, Mom!” Darla squeezed me tight.
“Hey, baby girl.” I shoved the hair out of her face. She wore her strawberry-blond locks down, wispy strips flying all around her face.
“Leave it, Mom. It doesn’t bother me. Do you like it flat ironed?” She tugged on my loose bun, setting my waves free. “I see you don’t mind throwing caution to the wind either,” she said as she tousled my hair.
“Ha. Where’s your stuff?”
“It’s in the car. I didn’t bring it in yet because ... well, there’s one thing I didn’t mention.”
I froze. “What, Darla?”
My mind went through five billion scenarios in thirty seconds. Yes, Darla was smart and a talented tennis player, but she wasn’t without fault. There’d been a sea turtle in our saltwater pool for a week, a litter of puppies living in our garage, and a major blowout party her senior year when Drew and I had gone home for my mother’s funeral.
“I brought someone home with me.”
“Darla, that’s fine. You know you’re always welcome to have company, even if it’s a boy. I’m not naive.”
“But I am,” James called out, and I shushed him.
Darla fidgeted, not meeting my eyes. “Well, it’s a boy, but there are some extenuating circumstances. Can we go into the kitchen?”
“Don’t mind me,” James piped in again.
“Mom?”
“Come on.”
Part of me wished Drew were home. He’d been much better over the years at dealing with Darla’s antics. He was so patient, always making up for lost time.
“What is it?” I asked as soon as we were seated at the kitchen island, pots and pans dangling from the rack above.
“It sort of has to stay on the DL, and I know you’ll understand.”
“Just spit it out, Darla.”
“I’m dating this guy—”
