“You're meeting my parents,” I said as we walked back to his car. “I should be paying.”
“You're introducing me to your parents because the media forced your hand. I'm paying for the flowers.”
We got in the car, and I sat there with the roses in my lap and the donut box on the console between us, staring at my phone.
Still nothing from my family. No missed calls. No texts.
Just silence.
“They're going to hate me,” I said quietly.
“They won't.”
“You don't know that.”
“No. But I know you.” Grant started the car. “And if they can't see how hard you've worked to protect them from this, how much you care about their opinion, then they're not paying attention.”
I wanted to believe him. Wanted to think that my parents would understand, would support me, would see past the headlines to the truth.
But the silence said otherwise.
“Ready?” Grant asked.
I looked at the flowers in my lap, the bakery box between us, and felt my stomach twist with anxiety. “No. But let's go anyway.”
He pulled out of the parking spot and headed toward my parents' neighborhood. Every mile closer made my chest tighter. Every red light gave me another moment to imagine how this could go wrong.
By the time we turned onto their street, my hands were shaking.
“Jace.” Grant's voice was calm. “Breathe.”
I took a breath. Then another. It didn't help.
“What if they slam the door in my face?”
“Then we leave. And we try again later.”
“What if they tell me they're ashamed?”
“Then they're wrong.” He glanced at me. “But they won't. I don't think that's why they haven't called.”
“Then why haven't they?”
“Maybe they're scared too. Maybe they don't know what to say. Maybe they're waiting for you to make the first move.” He pulled over a block away from the house, just like he'd promised. “Only one way to find out.”
I stared at my parents' house in the distance. The same house I'd grown up in. The same front door I'd walked through a thousand times.
It had never felt this far away before.
Grant parked on the street,killed the engine, and we sat there for a moment.
“Last chance to bail,” I said.
“Not a chance.” He picked up the flowers and donuts. “Come on. Let's do this.”
We walked up to the front door together, and I felt my heart pounding.
I knocked instead of using my key and waited.
