She stood like that for several seconds, unbothered, it seemed, by the cold.
“I forgot how much I missed snow.” She spun in a slow circle, and he resisted the overwhelming urge to take her in his arms and tell her everything he was thinking. His spiraling thoughts needed a place to land.
He mentally kicked himself again.
She deserves so much better.
The door to his parents’ house opened, and his mom shouted from the porch. “You’re home!” Then, over her shoulder, “Will’s home!”
Lauren’s eyes popped open, and the smile faded from her face. She looked around, then said quietly, “Spencer isn’t here yet.”
She pulled out her phone—he assumed to text her brother—as his parents carefully hurried down the steps.
This was usually a happy moment—when he was reunited with his people—but the frustration inside of him nagged. He worked to push it aside.
His mom bounded for him and pulled him into the kind of tight, all-encompassing hug only she could give. She had no idea how much he needed it.
“Good to see you, Mom.”
She stepped back, hands on his shoulders and drank him in, tears welling in her eyes. She grabbed his face with her hand. “Ugh, I see the boy I knew in the man that stands before me. You need to shave.”
He laughed.
“But you’re handsome. You’re welcome for that, it’s from my side, not your father’s.”
“What now? Are you making fun of me again?” Will’s dad was taking his time up the walk, looking around, probably for a shovel. He was always moving potential obstacles out of his mom’s way, and in this case, Will guessed, it was the slipperiness of the snow.
His mom beamed. “You look good.” Two pats on his sides and she stepped back. At that, his father moved in, first shaking his hand, then pulling him close in a hug that felt long overdue. He’d missed them.
“Hey, Dad.”
His father took a step back. “Ahh. So glad you’re home, son.”
In their eyes, he saw the man he wanted to be, the man he thought he’d become, but there was a tormenting echo at the back of his mind chanting people don’t change.
“Lauren.” Mom turned to her. “Oh, my goodness. You are a stunner! Steve, look at Lauren,” she said, waving her hand in Lauren’s general direction. “She’s even more beautiful than I remember!”
That’s an understatement.
“Kath, that’s weird, and it’s cold, let’s get these guys inside.” His father rubbed his hands together, then turned toward their guest. “Hi, Lauren, and yes, she’s right, you look great.”
Lauren blushed, and Will longed for her. He wanted to take her somewhere quiet to apologize again and to ask how he could make it up to her.
“It’s good to see you both,” Lauren said. “I texted my brother. He’s supposed to be here to pick me up.”
“Come inside.” Will’s mom waved a hand at the car. “Just leave your bags in the car, and we’ll go in and eat. Everyone’s here for the holidays, so I apologize in advance— it’s going to be noisy.”
Lauren looked a little panicked. “I don’t want to impose.”
“Nonsense.” His mom wrapped her arm around Lauren’s shoulders, then led her up the sidewalk to the door. “We love company! And I made more food than we will ever eat in a lifetime.”
“You obviously haven’t seen Will eat lately,” Lauren said with a wry smile.
Lauren glanced back at Will. He held her gaze for a beat, tried to smile, then he looked away. She was trying to lighten the mood, but he was in pretty deep. His mom led Lauren into the house, and Will and his father hung back.
“Uh-oh,” his dad said under his breath.
Will frowned. “What? What’s uh-oh?”
“What’s going on there?” His father nodded toward Lauren.
“Where?”
His dad looked amused. “No one told me that my eyes would stop working when I got older.” He wiped his glasses with the bottom of his shirt and looked up through them to see if they were clean. “But I’m not blind.”
“It’s. . .nothing,” Will sighed. “There is absolutely nothing going on there.”
Dad slung an arm around him and patted his shoulder. “Uh huh.”
They walked toward the door, and the cinnamon aroma of his mom’s famous wassail rushed out to meet him.
“How’s Pops?” Will asked.