Next-Door Nemesis(67)
“I still can’t believe you’re doing it.” His long legs make quick work of my room. He sits down next to me and looks comically large on my tiny bed. “All of my friends are voting for you, you know. I brag about you all the time so they were sold the second they heard your name.”
“Thanks, Dad.” I bump my shoulder against his. “One more thing to add to all the reasons you’re the best.”
He looks down at me with that gentle smile of his. The small creases next to his eyes are the only sign of aging on his handsome face, other than the white strands of hair in his beard. Where my mom is loud and over the top showing her love for me, my dad is quieter. It’s in every glance, his love always shining in his dark brown eyes. It’s in the way he squeezes my shoulder every time he walks past me and how he laughs at all my jokes, even when they’re not funny. It’s in him mentioning my name in every room he steps in and being proud of me when I’m not proud of myself. It’s the way his strength cloaks me in comfort and safety anytime I’m in his presence.
“Well, you make it easy to brag,” he says.
“Okay, sure.” I scoff because I most definitely do not. The embarrassment that’s always lurking beneath the surface rears its ugly head again. “Nothing says brag-worthy like being jobless and living with my parents.”
“We love having you here. Obviously, we wish you were able to come home with better circumstances, but your mom and I are ecstatic that you’re back.” His voice has an edge that wasn’t there before and there’s a fire burning in his eyes. “My garden would be dead without your help, and Mom’s cakes might be edible tonight thanks to you. This retirement thing wasn’t as easy as I thought it was going to be; you coming home has made it so much better. I felt like I missed out on so much of your childhood because I was always working. Spending time with you in the garden, even watching those ridiculous shows with the women screaming at one another, has made me feel so much closer to you.”
See?
He’s the best.
“Have I told you how much I love you?”
He wraps his long arm around me and pulls me into his side, kissing the top of my head. “You have, but I wouldn’t mind you saying it again.”
“I love you loads.”
“Love you loads too. Now”—he pushes off my bed and his knees crack under his weight—“come get this cake from your mom, bring it to that boy, and figure out whatever happened between the two of you.”
I start to cough, choking on air. “What?”
“Oh, come on, Colls. Anyone with semi-decent vision who saw the two of you sitting all close on the back of that car could see that there’s something between you.” He rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “I’m your dad. I knew you two liked each other when you were kids. I kept my mouth shut, but I never liked Peter. Knew it wouldn’t last. Nate’s a good guy, always has been. I’ve been waiting years for you two to figure your crap out. Never thought it’d be because of the HOA, but I’ll take what I can get, I guess.”
I stare at him with my mouth agape. I never knew any of this!
“I didn’t know you didn’t like Peter!” I start with the easiest part. “You could’ve told me that, I don’t know . . . before he screwed me over.”
My parents were my first call after I found out what Peter did. Looking back, I guess they did seem pretty unsurprised when I told them what he had done.
“Collins,” he says my name like it explains everything, and I hate it, because it does.
“Fine.” I fall back onto my pillow and pout. “I wouldn’t have listened, but still. A heads-up next time would be nice.”
“Well, if you get out of bed and bring Nate this darn cake, I won’t have to, now, will I?” He extends his hand and pulls me up when I grab on.
“Sheesh.” I straighten out my clothes and smooth down the curls at the back of my head as I follow him out of my room. “You’re feisty.”
Because he’s used to me and my mom’s tendency to lean a bit on the dramatic side, he doesn’t so much as grunt to acknowledge that I spoke.
We reach the bottom of the stairs at the same time my mom is walking out of the kitchen holding a beautifully frosted cake atop a yellow ceramic cake stand. She’s walking so slow and careful, it looks like she’s on a tightrope instead of our oak floors.
“Oh!” She smiles huge when she sees us. “Perfect timing.”
I slip on my shoes before taking the cake from her.
“This looks really great.” I don’t mean to sound so surprised, but not only did I experience her dreadful baking firsthand, there are hundreds of pictures documenting how bad she was at decorating them. “I’m really impressed.”
“Well, you know what they say, practice makes perfect.” She brushes her hands together after successfully handing the cake off to me. “Now, you be careful walking to Nate’s house. I don’t want to be dramatic or anything, but if you drop this, I will disown you.”
“Real nice, Mom.” I know she’s joking, but my fingers still tighten around the cool ceramic just in case.
My parents are my last resort—I can’t get kicked out of Ohio too.
My dad opens the door for me and they both say-shout their goodbyes to my back. I focus on the step in front of me, my arms starting to burn a little from how tense I am. But even though I’d blame the cake to anyone who asked, I know the real reason I’m so nervous has nothing to do with holding the cake and everything to do with its recipient.