He gives me a look. “I’ve told you this.”
“I forgot,” I say, and it’s not even a lie, though I have to bite my cheek to keep from smiling. “Can’t you remind me? It was something cool, right?”
“She’s working on adaptive cellular regeneration,” he says, like that clears everything up.
I blink, giving him my best empty-headed look. It’s a look I’ve used on Colten often.
Colten sighs, before continuing, “Specifically, how certain cell structures respond to external stimuli in…”
I settle my chin into my hand and watch him as he talks. Slowly, his shoulders loosen, and he gets into his lecturing voice. It’s easy to hear the pride he has for his mom, even if I don’t fully understand what he’s talking about.
I could listen to him talk for hours. He's got one of those voices that's impossible not to like. It’s smooth, calm, and reassuring. Perfect for a physical therapist. I’m really lucky he’ll be my personal PT once he graduates and I go pro.
“Patrick.”
“Yeah?” I reply, tilting my head.
“Have you even listened to anything I just said?” he asks, eyebrow raised.
“I know you said ‘cells’ and ‘regeneration’,” I say, pointing at him with a piece of toast in my free hand. “She does something with medicine, right?”
He stares at me for a second, then shakes his head, but there’s a smile tugging at his mouth.
“Close enough,” he says with a sigh.
I beam. He still doesn't look completely relaxed, but he looks a lot more like himself.
“Want to do some drills after this?” I suggest. That would help him loosen up more.
“Maybe,” Colten says, shrugging before asking, “Depends on what time you need to leave for your flight.”
“Huh, I don’t know,” I say, frowning as I try to remember. My mind’s been occupied with other things lately. “I never checked what the letter said. Besides, we’re doing a road trip, right?”
“Patrick,” he says slowly, eyes wide and his fork frozen with a piece of egg hanging from it. “Please tell me you booked your flight for the combine already.”
“Why would I book it?” I ask, blinking at him. “I thought accommodations were covered? Also—the road trip?”
The fork drops to the counter with a clang as he covers his face with both hands.
It’s…kind of impressive, actually. The way he manages to look like he’s having a full breakdown while also staying completely silent.
His shoulders rise and fall once, twice. He inhales loudly, then he drops his hands, his gaze burning a hole through me.
“Thehotelis covered,” he says, very calmly. Too calmly. “Theflightis not. Which you would know if you read the invitation.”
“Well, that’s fine, since we’re doing a road trip,” I tell him, setting my toast down and frowning at him. “We don’t need any flights when we have your car.”
His mouth opens and closes before decisively opening again. “And just when did I agree to that?”
“When you were reading the letter,” I say, my mouth oddly dry. “I asked, and you said yes.”
“I did not say yes,” Colten argues, pushing his plate away.
“You did,” I insist, trying to remember that interaction and his exact response, but what does it matter if he says no now? Have things changed because of last night?
Is he…
Is he not coming?
