CHAPTER FIFTEEN
MAEVE
Friday, December 24th
As the truck comes to a stop in the driveway of my childhood home, a smile dances along my lips as I look up at the house I missed so much. The two-story, desert-sand-colored home is just the way I remembered it: red-tiled roof, stucco-walled exterior, arched bay windows, and wrought iron fence surrounding the flowers and greenery planted outside. My parents have made some little changes over the past four years, but the foundation is the same.
God, I missed it. I missedthem.
The weather is cold, as it always is at this time of year, but the skies are clear and bright blue, with not a single cloud in sight on this beautiful, sunny day.
“Ready?” I ask Tate.
“I think,” he rasps.
He looks like he’s ready to pass out, his fingers still white knuckling the steering wheel and his body rigid as he stares up at the house, too.
“I’ll be there the whole time,” I reassure him.
His head slowly turns as he looks at me, his throat bobbing. “I know.”
Unbuckling my seatbelt and pushing open the passenger side door, I step out into the chilly December air, sucking in a deep breath. There’s just something about the West Coast that feels different; the cold isn’t as cold as it is in Pennsylvania. It’s mild; it’s perfect. I didn’t realize how much I missed California winters until now.
Tate pulls some of our bags from the truck, his hands completely full when I round the cab, making me snicker quietly. I know he’s probably just trying to busy himself because he’s nervous, and I get it. I’d be nervous too if I were him.
The front door flies open before we even hit the bottom step of the porch, and a laugh bubbles up from my chest as my mom bounds out of the house and down the steps, wrapping her arms around me in a tight hug. My arms are squished by my sides, but I bury my face in her hair anyway, breathing in that familiar warm scent of her shampoo. If my eyes were open, they’d be pricking with tears.
It had been twelve months since I’d seen her last, but that was also before I ended things with Landon. It feels like a lifetime ago, and for some reason, I have to hold my breath as we hold each other. Scared that if I don’t, I might burst into tears right here.
“I’ve missed you,” she whispers to me.
I take a second, pulling in a shaky breath, before I say, “I’ve missed you, too.”
Until now, I don’t think it’s dawned on me that I went through everything alone. No one knew about the extent of my relationship with Landon, the truth, and I didn’t tell anyone once it was over, either. I felt ashamed that I let it happen to me, weak. I didn’t want my family to look at me like I was…damaged. I didn’t want them to see me the way thatIsee me.
When she pulls away from me, she immediately faces Tate, going in for a hug without any hesitation.
I watch as he bends down to hug her back, my cheeks lifting with a faint smile, but then his eyes lift to meet mine. Assessing me. His brows twitching as he tries to figure out whether or not I’m okay. My heart skips in my chest at that, because how does he do that? How does he know when something is wrong with me? Is it written all over my face, or does he already know the tells?
I give him a small nod.
“You must be Tatum. It’s so nice to meet you,” my mom coos, pulling back to give him one of her infamous crinkle-eyed smiles. Those are my favorite.
He smiles back at her. “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Gray.”
“Annalise,” she urges. “Please.”
The smile never leaves her face as she guides us inside, and I take the moment to observe her. Her dark hair has swirls of grey mixed into the roots these days, and something about that makes me sad. It’s a privilege to age, I know, but it’s also bittersweet when it’s your parents.
My dad’s hair has had grey in it for a while, but he always keeps it pretty short and neat, like it is now, as he comes barreling toward us. As he swarms me, he kisses my forehead, ruffing my hair just slightly as he always does.
“Hey, babygirl,” he mumbles against my forehead, lingering there for a minute, and I know him. He’s getting choked up. We’re the same when it comes to that kind of stuff.
“Hey, Dad,” I whisper.
He clears his throat as he pulls away from me, facing toward Tate and extending his palm out for a handshake.
“Thank you for getting her here in one piece.”
