“Well,” she says, “looks like we’re going car shopping this week.”
I can’t help it — the tears come. Hot, sudden, overwhelming.
I stand up so fast my chair scrapes. Dad rises too, and I throw my arms around him.
“I love you,” I whisper into his chest, the words shaking.
He cups the back of my head the way he did when I was little.
“I’m proud of you, Jade. So damn proud.”
He pulls back just enough to look me in the eyes. “And I can’t wait to get points and fly out here next year… and watch you play college soccer.”
My heart feels like it grows three sizes right then.
Not because of the money.
Not the car.
Not the future.
But because I finally understand something I didn’t before:
Home isn’t a place.
Home is the people who bet on you before the world everThe house gets quiet after my family leaves.
Too quiet.
My siblings’ laughter fades into the cold Cape wind as the car pulls out of the driveway, and then it’s just the four of us standing there — me, Aunt Susan, Irene, and Mason. The silence stretches. Thick. A little sad. A little peaceful.
Then Irene clears her throat dramatically.
“Hate to break the Hallmark moment,” she says, “but… Jade?”
Mason leans against the counter, smug as hell.
“It’s areallygood thing you took that ‘phones in the basket’ rule seriously.”
I groan. “What now?”
“Nothing,” Mason singsongs, looking everywhere but at me. “Absolutely nothing.”
Irene crosses her arms, eyebrow raised. “Susan. You want to do the honors?”
Aunt Susan smirks, taps her phone screen like she’s about to drop a nuclear bomb.
“Honey… the boy is cominghardfor you.”
My stomach flips. “Who?—”
But I know.
I know before I even unlock the screen.
Leo Holt.
Prince of Royal Oaks.
