“I understand,” I interrupt.“Really.Go do what you need to do.”
He studies me for a moment, eyes searching as if memorizing every detail.“You’re something else, you know that?”he says, voice rough with an emotion I can’t quite name.
Before I can respond, he closes the distance again, kissing me with an intensity that leaves me breathless, like a promise, a claim, something I’ve been waiting for my whole life without realizing it.
When we break apart, he rests his forehead against mine, eyes closed as if gathering strength.“Tonight,” he repeats, the word both a promise and a plea.
“Tonight,” I echo, committing myself to whatever comes next.
The promise of “tonight” hangs in the air between us as Zach reluctantly leaves, the door clicking shut behind him.I sit on the edge of my bed for several long minutes, trying to process everything that has happened in the past twenty-four hours.My fingertips trace my lips, still feeling the pressure of Zach’s mouth against mine.
Eventually, I force himself to get moving.A quick shower, fresh clothes, and I’m heading out the door, mind still half lost in memories of strong hands and dark eyes.The drive to my parents’ house is automatic, muscle memory guiding me through familiar streets while my thoughts remain tangled around Zach.
I pull into the driveway of the modest two-story home where I’d grown up, noting my father Ethan’s police cruiser and my mother Braelyn’s gardening tools scattered near the rosebushes.Home.No matter how old I get, this place still feels like sanctuary.
The front door opens before I can knock, my mother’s familiar silhouette appearing in the doorway.
“There’s my boy,” Mom says, arms already opening for a hug.She is tiny compared to me, barely reaching my chest, but her embrace is fierce and grounding.She smells like tomato sauce and the lavender lotion she’s used for as long as I can remember.
“Hi, Mom.”I let myself be enveloped in her warmth.
She pulls back, hands settling on my shoulders as she studies me with those sharp eyes that have never missed anything.“Something’s different about you,” she says, head tilting slightly.
Heat creeps up my neck.“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Mmhmm,” she hums, clearly unconvinced.“Come in.Your father’s watching the game.Food’s almost ready.”
I follow her inside, the familiar scent of her lasagna wrapping around me like a blanket.Dad looks up from the television, his face breaking into a wide smile.
“There he is,” my dad says, rising from his recliner.His handshake turns into a half hug, strong and brief.“Thought we’d have to send out a search party.Been weeks since we’ve seen you.”
“Sorry, Dad.The hospital’s been crazy,” I reply, the excuse worn but true.
“Well, you’re here now.Beer?”He’s already moving toward the kitchen.
“Sure.”
He nods sagely.“Usually is crazy.”He mutes the television and turns his full attention to me.“This about that guy your mother thinks you’re seeing?”
I nearly choke on my beer.“What?
“Ah.”He nods again, understanding dawning in his eyes.
The directness of the question shouldn’t have surprised me.Dad has never been one to dance around anything.Still, I feel my face heat as I nod slowly.
“Someone special?”he asks.
I stare at the condensation sliding down my beer bottle.“Yeah,” I admitted quietly.“I think so.It’s… new.But also not new, if that makes any sense.”
Dad chuckles.“Makes perfect sense.Known him a while?”
“Since high school,” I say, a small smile tugging at my lips despite my nerves.“We just reconnected recently.”
He takes a thoughtful sip of his beer.“Anyone I know?”
I hesitate.This is the tricky part.“Maybe.His name’s Zach.”
He grins, taking a sip of his beer.“Knew this was coming.”
