Page 8 of Meet Me Back Here

Forrest flushes beet red. I’m familiar with the pressure of Mama’s praise. Like you’ve got no choice but to be what she says you are. Disappointing her would be too unbearable. In this case, while I don’t support Mom embarrassing Forrest with the husband talk, I do agree with her about his license. I know Forrest’s got that in the bag. He’s just being modest.

“What are your plans for the rest of your night?” Dad mercifully cuts in, directing the conversation away from what great husband material Forrest is.

“Food. Home. Couch,” I say simply.

“On Halloween?” Mom asks, her eyebrows raising with surprise. “I figured you’d be going out somewhere. You’re both so young!”

“I’ve done all the dressing up I need to today, and I left candy on the porch,” I say with a glance down at my outfit. I had to pop out the fangs before the panel, so I’d be able to speak, but I’m still itching to put on the leggings I’ve got stowed out in Forrest’s car, even if just to be more comfortable for the drive back home.

“Not me,” Forrest says evenly, with a completely straight face. “I’ve got two ragers to pick between as soon as I’m fueled up.”

My parents both look at him with surprise, my mom with a bit of glee, likely trying to figure out how to get me to go with him, but I see the joke. We know each other too well for even the most convincing delivery to trick me.

“Sure, old man.” I smirk. “Go find yourself a discotheque.”

Forrest is precisely two hours and twenty minutes older than I am, and I intend to never let him forget it.

When Forrest cracks a smile, my parents catch on that he made up the parties. Mom bumps her elbow against his side like he’s the funniest rascal she’s ever seen.

“Then, would you like to grab a bite together?” Mom suggests, still holding me and Forrest to her sides. I don’t think she’s going to let go unless we agree. “It would be nice to catch up more with you”—she nods to Forrest—“and see you”—she looks to me—“before you leave for your trip.”

It’s a simple, passing comment, but it drops on us like a ton of bricks.

Well. It drops on me.

Shit.

The lingering smile from Forrest’s bad joke slips from my face. Even though I’m looking at my mom, I can see Forrest lean around her to stare at me, and the look of Oh? clear in his expression.

“Especially since you’ll be gone for Thanksgiving,” Mom continues, oblivious to the new tension around her.

Double shit.

“Dinner sounds great,” I say stiffly, praying to the heavens she’ll shut up about the stupid trip.

“Yeah, I could eat,” Forrest says, just a beat slower than would be considered normal. I know he won’t ask what’s going on while we’re with my parents. He’s too nice to call me out in front of them, but this conversation isn’t over.

I thank the bookstore staff one last time before hurrying to meet Mom, Dad, and Forrest by the exit. Forrest must have run out to his car because he’s holding the bag with my change of clothes and has lost his costume props.

We’re about to follow my parents out when Forrest stops me with the lightest touch against the side of my hand.

“All good?” he asks, still reading me like a book.

“All good,” I assure him.

As soon as we get to the Thai restaurant across the parking lot, I hurry to the restroom to change, shoving my vampire costume back in the bag. I forgot makeup remover, so my face is a little pink from being scrubbed with a paper towel, but when I pull my dark hair back into the littlest ponytail, I can finally recognize myself again.

When I get back to the table, Forrest and my parents are laughing about something. Without a word, Forrest takes the bag from me, wedging it in the corner on our side of the booth before sliding in to give me a place to sit. It’s like a silent dance that we know without needing to talk about it.

Dad is telling the story about the time he got yanked off a fishing boat trying to reel in a big one, only to discover it was an enormous blob of seaweed. A year ago, when they gave me the house I grew up in, my parents started traveling the world, visiting Italy for the first time, seeing their siblings who have spread out around the globe. Their lives are full of stories like this one now. I guess I got my wanderlust from them.

Dinner is good, and I let the other three carry conversation while I come down from the high that accompanies events like tonight’s. When Mom tries to bring up my trip—she and my dad will be staying at the house and watching Jigsaw while I’m away—Dad places his hand on her leg and uses my exhaustion as an excuse to discuss it later.

I steal a glance at Forrest out of the corner of my eye, but he doesn’t react to the topic, focusing intensely on his pad thai.

We make it all the way back to my house without him asking. But when we pull into the driveway, time’s up.

“Cam, what’s going on?” Forrest asks, looking out through the windshield and keeping the car idling for warmth. He looks like he’s trying very hard not to look scared.