Through the glass of the sliding door, I spot them on the terrace. Mom is curled up on the outdoor sofa, blanket over her lap, and Dad is beside her, a giant blueprint spread across the coffee table. He's doing that thing where he gets way too into explaining something—hands slicing the air, eyebrows doing choreography—while Mom nods like she's following along even though we both know she's probably not.
It's a crisp Florida-cold kind of day—sunny, but the breeze is cool enough that Mom's wearing a cardigan.
I slide the door open.
"I'm home..."
Their heads snap up so fast I almost laugh.
"Baby!" Mom's on her feet instantly.
Dad gets up, too, and they both pull me into one of those warm, squishy, full-body hugs that only parents can give. Mom's arms wrap around me easier now without the cast, and I feel her squeeze—light, but solid.
Dad kisses the side of my head and pulls back first, looking me over like he's checking if all my limbs are still attached.
"I thought you weren't coming until later," he says. "Didn't Zach still have morning skate today?"
"They did," I nod. "But they started practice at like six so everyone could get on the road early. They wanted the guys home before traffic got crazy."
Mom smiles. Dad nods—then both of them peek behind me at the open doorway like they're expecting someone to appear.
"Where's Zach?" Mom asks.
"Oh." I shrug casually. "He went straight home."
Dad levels me withthe look. The one where his eyebrow goes up like he's Sherlock Holmes about to expose me.
"Are you trying to hide your boyfriend from us?" he asks, hitting the word like a hammer. "Don't think for a second, young lady, that I've forgotten you still haven't properly introduced that boy to us."
He tries to sound reprimanding but failing.
"Dad, you already know Zach," I laugh. "There's no introduction needed. Besides, you saw him the last time we came home."
"No introduction needed?" He gasps—full theatrical chest expansion. "Did you hear that, darling?" He throws Mom a look of exaggerated betrayal.
Mom giggles, clearly delighted. She looks like she's waited herentirelife for this exact moment — Dad freaking out over his daughter's boyfriend.
"You see, princess," Dad says, holding up a finger, "I know Zach the neighbor."
He lifts another. "Zach the best friend."
A third. "And sure, I know Zach the hockey player."
All pronounced with painful seriousness.
"But Zach the boyfriend?" He crosses his arms. "Nope. Don't know that guy."
I snort. "Oh my God."
"And," he goes on, "I didn't get the chance to talk to him man-to-man last time since it wasn't exactly the appropriate moment."
I cover my face. "Dad..."
"What?" he says, all fake innocence. "I need to ask him questions."
Mom pats my back like she's comforting a soldier being deployed. "He means interrogate."
"I meanassess his worthiness," Dad corrects, pointing at both of us. "It's my fatherly duty."
