Spring Break Fling

Chapter 37

37

NIKKO

T he next two weeks zipped by too quickly. When Hannah wasn’t working, we were glued to each other—coffee dates, late-night movie marathons, and outings with her friends, who had a knack for embarrassing her with childhood stories. I liked them, though. Maddie had a sharp wit, Rachel was hilariously opinionated, and Tara was terrifyingly good at poker.

Tonight, though, was different. Tonight, I was meeting the parents.

“Are you sure about this?” I asked her.

“About what?”

“Me meeting your parents. I’m not typically the guy anyone wants to meet their parents.”

She looked at me in her mirror where she was carefully putting her hair up in what she said was a messy bun. I didn’t get it. She was spending a lot of time making her hair look messy. I liked it but I didn’t get it.

I was stretched out on her bed watching her get ready. Never before did I have the privilege of watching a woman get ready. There was something magical about how meticulous Hannah was. Every movement was precise, calculated. Even getting dressed was like a strategic operation.

“My parents are going to love you,” she said confidently. “Well, my mom will. My dad might take some convincing.”

“Why’s that?” I asked, propping myself up on my elbow.

She turned, giving me a look. “Because you look like you could be in a motorcycle gang.”

I glanced down at my tattoos, grinning. “I am in a motorcycle gang. Sort of.”

She laughed. “Not helping your case.”

“What if I offer him a tattoo?”

“Just don’t put your initials on him.”

Her phone buzzed. A text from her mom confirming dinner plans. Hannah had been talking about this dinner for days. Her parents lived about an hour outside Boise on a farm.

“I thought your parents were chill,” I said.

“They’re hippies. But they aren’t bikers.”

“Shouldn’t they all be peace and love?”

“They are peace and love,” Hannah said, rolling her eyes. “But they’re also parents. My dad’s a farmer. He’s used to protecting things. And right now, that thing is me.”

I chuckled. “So, I’m walking into the lion’s den?”

“More like the organic vegetable patch,” she said. “But yeah, basically.”

“My mom will ask a million questions. Just go with it. My dad might seem gruff, but he’s a softie underneath. And whatever you do, don’t mention tariffs.”

“Got it,” I said. “No politics. Just smile and nod.”

“Now, I need to set the table and clean up. The lasagna will be done soon.”

I rolled off the bed. “Put me in, coach. Tell me what you need me to do.”

“Follow me.”

While Hannah bustled around the kitchen preparing a fresh salad to go with dinner, I rolled up my sleeves and got to work washing dishes. We’d fallen into a comfortable rhythm—she cooked, I cleaned, and we both joked around with each other the entire time.

“So, you and your parents are all good now, right?”

She paused, slicing radishes. “Yeah, we’ve been on good terms for a while, but it wasn’t always like that.”

“Rocky teenage years?” I guessed.

“Oh, you have no idea,” she said, laughing softly. “When my parents got me and my sister back from our grandparents, I was a mess. Angry, confused, hurt… you name it. I rebelled. If they said something was blue, I would say it was red just to piss them off. If they asked me to clean my room, I trashed it.”

I put down the dish I was scrubbing and leaned against the counter. “Why were you so angry?”

She hesitated, then sighed. “I couldn’t understand why they didn’t fight for us sooner. I felt abandoned. And my grandparents—well, they weren’t exactly nurturing. They tried to ‘fix’ me, and that just made everything worse. I felt like my parents wanted the vacation. They didn’t try and get us back because they were enjoying their freedom. I was pissed.”

“That’s rough,” I said.

She nodded. “It took years of therapy to untangle all the knots. My parents and I went together when I was seventeen, and while it wasn’t easy, it helped. Now, we’re in a pretty good place. My sister and I decided a while ago that we weren’t going to let the past rob us of the present we could have with them.”

“Smart,” I said, genuinely impressed.

“Tomorrow isn’t guaranteed,” she added softly.

I stared at her for a moment, absorbing her words. “You’re a better person than me,” I admitted. “I don’t think I could ever forgive my old man. Of course, he would never go to therapy either.”

She turned, leaning her hip against the counter. “You forgive for you, Nikko, not for him. Carrying anger and hate in your heart hurts you . Eventually, I realized it wasn’t worth it. I wanted to love my parents, to make more memories with them. In your case, maybe forgiveness isn’t the answer. Maybe you just want to let him go. ”

“I think that would be the safer choice,” I said with a snort. “You were still young when your parents figured out they were doing it wrong. My dad still can’t admit he’s done anything wrong. He still thinks I’m the problem. That I’m too big for my britches and acting like I’m too good for them. But I am too good for them. I don’t understand why he can’t figure shit out. It’s a miracle he’s still alive. I don’t want to be dragged into that shit. It took a lot of work to break free the first time.”

Hannah leaned against me, her hand still holding the knife. Even with her hands occupied, she managed to make me feel better with the physical connection. “Sometimes walking away is the healthiest choice.”

The timer dinged, breaking the moment. Hannah pulled the lasagna from the oven. The rich aroma of tomato sauce and herbs filled the small kitchen. “Ready to meet the parents?” she asked.

“Not even a little.”

She gave me a onceover.

“This is as good as it gets,” I said with a laugh. “If you want me to go out a window or hide in a closet, I would understand.”

“Absolutely not,” she said. “I’m very happy to have you meet them. I want you to see where I came from and maybe you’ll understand a little more about me.”

“So they’re hippy types?”

“They are.”

“Baby, you are about the furthest thing from a hippy I’ve ever seen.”

“Exactly. I had to get away. I wanted to be the exact opposite of them, which is why I am the way I am.”

I stepped closer, resting my hands on her hips. She tilted her head up to look at me, her lips quirked in a teasing smirk.

“You’re a rebel with a cause,” I teased.

“I guess you could say that.”

“I feel like I’m a rebel without a cause,” I said.

Her phone chimed. She groaned and shook her head. “I knew it.”

“You knew what? ”

“That’s my mom’s ringtone. How much do you want to bet they are running late or are going to cancel?”

“Really?” I asked. “Aren’t they supposed to be here in twenty minutes?”

“Yep, but that’s what they do.” She sighed.

“And why you are always on time or early.”

She nodded. “Exactly.”

She walked over to get her phone.

She glanced at the screen, annoyed. “Just as I predicted. They’re caught up with a last-minute issue at the farm. Some sort of problem with the irrigation system. They’ll be an hour late.” Hannah put the phone down on the counter with a little more force than necessary.

“I’m sorry,” I said.

She managed a small laugh, her shoulders relaxing slightly. “I’m not really surprised. It’s why I chose lasagna. It’s easy to reheat. It’s not like chicken or fish.”

“You know them well,” I said.

She nodded, opening the oven door again to check on the bubbling cheese. “I’ve had a lifetime of practice. Anyway, it gives us a bit more time alone together, which isn’t a bad thing.”

I agreed with a nod, moving around the kitchen to help her set the table. She directed me to the cupboard where the plates were kept. I grabbed them and set them out on the table one by one.

“I’m glad you can see the silver lining,” I said as I aligned the forks and knives next to each plate.

“I’m used to it,” Hannah replied, bringing over the salad and placing it in the center of the table. “Sometimes you have to look for those small blessings in disguise.” She pulled off her apron and hung it up inside the tiny pantry. “I say we bust open the wine. They snooze, they lose.”

“We have plenty to go around,” I said. “I’ll open it for you. I’m going to stick with beer. I’ve never drank as much wine as I have since I’ve been here the last two weeks.”

Hannah laughed. “Well, I’m glad I can introduce you to new experiences, even if it’s just drowning you in wine. ”

I fetched the bottle she’d picked out earlier—a robust red—and uncorked it with more finesse than I usually managed. After pouring her a glass, I handed it over with a flourish. “For the lady.”

She took the glass, her fingers brushing mine, sending a spark of warmth up my arm. “Thank you, kind sir,” she teased, before taking a sip and closing her eyes to savor it. “Mmm, perfect choice.”

I opened one of the IPAs she said her father liked. It wasn’t my thing, but I wasn’t a beer snob. She grabbed one of the cookies she had made earlier and took a bite.

I cocked an eyebrow. “Dessert before dinner? I think that breaks some rules.”

She rolled her eyes. “One of the only good things about being an adult.”

She took another bite before washing it down with some wine. There was a smudge of chocolate on her lip. Something about the sight of it stirred something inside me.

“I’m going to say something crazy right now,” I said and stepped forward.

“Oh?” she asked, her eyes sparkling. “Let’s hear it.”

I reached out and rubbed the pad of my thumb across her lip, wiping away the chocolate. “I love you.”

The words came out far easier than I imagined they would.

Her eyes widened, and she sucked in a sharp breath. Surprise was written all over her face.

“Yeah,” I said, smirking. “Is that crazy?”

For a second, she just stared at me, her expression unreadable. Then, suddenly, she went up on her tiptoes and kissed me, her hands gripping in my shirt.

“I love you too, Nikko,” she murmured against my lips.

I deepened the kiss, pulling her closer until there was no space left between us. Her fingers skimmed up my chest. I couldn’t resist sliding my hands to her waist, then lower, until I had her perched on the edge of the counter.

“You sure about this?” I asked, my voice rough .

She nodded, her eyes dark with want. “Silver linings. Now shut up and kiss me.”

I did as I was told, and everything else—the smell of the lasagna, the hum of the old fridge, the fact that her parents were due in less than an hour—faded into the background. All that mattered was her and the way she fit perfectly in my arms, like she’d always been meant to be there.