Chapter 15
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
MAEVE
As the truck comes to a stop in the driveway of my childhood home, a smile dances along my lips as I look up at the house I missed so much.
The two-story, desert-sand-colored home is just the way I remembered it: red-tiled roof, stucco-walled exterior, arched bay windows, and wrought iron fence surrounding the flowers and greenery planted outside.
My parents have made some little changes over the past four years, but the foundation is the same.
God, I missed it. I missed them.
The weather is cold, as it always is at this time of year, but the skies are clear and bright blue, with not a single cloud in sight on this beautiful, sunny day.
“Ready?” I ask Tate.
“I think,” he rasps.
He looks like he’s ready to pass out, his fingers still white knuckling the steering wheel and his body rigid as he stares up at the house, too.
“I’ll be there the whole time,” I reassure him.
His head slowly turns as he looks at me, his throat bobbing. “I know.”
Unbuckling my seatbelt and pushing open the passenger side door, I step out into the chilly December air, sucking in a deep breath.
There’s just something about the West Coast that feels different; the cold isn’t as cold as it is in Pennsylvania.
It’s mild; it’s perfect. I didn’t realize how much I missed California winters until now.
Tate pulls some of our bags from the truck, his hands completely full when I round the cab, making me snicker quietly. I know he’s probably just trying to busy himself because he’s nervous, and I get it. I’d be nervous too if I were him.
The front door flies open before we even hit the bottom step of the porch, and a laugh bubbles up from my chest as my mom bounds out of the house and down the steps, wrapping her arms around me in a tight hug.
My arms are squished by my sides, but I bury my face in her hair anyway, breathing in that familiar warm scent of her shampoo.
If my eyes were open, they’d be pricking with tears.
It had been twelve months since I’d seen her last, but that was also before I ended things with Landon. It feels like a lifetime ago, and for some reason, I have to hold my breath as we hold each other. Scared that if I don’t, I might burst into tears right here.
“I’ve missed you,” she whispers to me.
I take a second, pulling in a shaky breath, before I say, “I’ve missed you, too.”
Until now, I don’t think it’s dawned on me that I went through everything alone.
No one knew about the extent of my relationship with Landon, the truth, and I didn’t tell anyone once it was over, either.
I felt ashamed that I let it happen to me, weak.
I didn’t want my family to look at me like I was…
damaged. I didn’t want them to see me the way that I see me.
When she pulls away from me, she immediately faces Tate, going in for a hug without any hesitation.
I watch as he bends down to hug her back, my cheeks lifting with a faint smile, but then his eyes lift to meet mine.
Assessing me. His brows twitching as he tries to figure out whether or not I’m okay.
My heart skips in my chest at that, because how does he do that?
How does he know when something is wrong with me?
Is it written all over my face, or does he already know the tells?
I give him a small nod.
“You must be Tatum. It’s so nice to meet you,” my mom coos, pulling back to give him one of her infamous crinkle-eyed smiles. Those are my favorite.
He smiles back at her. “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Gray.”
“Annalise,” she urges. “Please.”
The smile never leaves her face as she guides us inside, and I take the moment to observe her. Her dark hair has swirls of grey mixed into the roots these days, and something about that makes me sad. It’s a privilege to age, I know, but it’s also bittersweet when it’s your parents.
My dad’s hair has had grey in it for a while, but he always keeps it pretty short and neat, like it is now, as he comes barreling toward us. As he swarms me, he kisses my forehead, ruffing my hair just slightly as he always does.
“Hey, babygirl,” he mumbles against my forehead, lingering there for a minute, and I know him. He’s getting choked up. We’re the same when it comes to that kind of stuff.
“Hey, Dad,” I whisper.
He clears his throat as he pulls away from me, facing toward Tate and extending his palm out for a handshake.
“Thank you for getting her here in one piece.”
Tate shakes his hand without any hesitation, definitely not looking as nervous as I know he feels. I have to hide my tiny grin as I watch him interacting with my dad like he’s not the most awkward guy I’ve ever met. Something blooms in my chest at that. I’m proud of him.
“Of course, sir.”
It’s unfair how cute he is without trying to be.
Voices emerge from the dining room, and I know it’s my brothers before they even enter the room based on the sounds of them firing insults back and forth at each other.
It’s always a game of who can come up with the funniest roast of the other one.
My eyes roll playfully as I cross my arms over my chest, knowing what’s going to come as they appear in the archway of the foyer.
Mateo and Maverick are fraternal twins. They’re similar in a lot of ways; they look just like our dad, while I look like Mom, but they’re also different.
Mateo is a hair shorter than Maverick, but they’re both over six feet tall.
Mav’s hair is a little bit more curly than Mattie’s, while Mattie’s is a little darker.
Maverick’s eyes are blue, which he gets from our grandmother, and Mateo’s are brown.
They’re essentially two sides of the same coin, like yin and yang.
“Evie,” they say in unison, and I brace myself for impact.
They bear hug me from both sides, trapping me in their arms as one of them rubs their knuckles into my scalp, ruffling up my hair and making me squirm in discomfort. It’s like a ritual every time I come home; it’s always the damn noogies. I can’t stand when they do that.
“Alright, alright,” I growl into the void of arms and snickering like children as they torture me.
As they let me go, they mumble a brief hello to Tate, but I catch the way they share a look between each other. Using that dumb twin telepathy shit they always do; it used to drive me crazy when I was younger and wanting to always be included in the fun.
Little do they know that I’m fully prepared to defend Tatum, however I need to. I’m too old for their antics anymore. I can spend my time with whoever I want because I’m a grown woman now. Not the little sister who needs protecting.
“Boys, go grab their luggage,” Mom instructs them, and I shoot her a thankful, thin-lipped smile. She knows how persistent they can be.
“Sure thing,” Maverick says, putting his hand on Tate’s shoulder. “Come on, Tate.”
I level him with an annoyed glare, and he holds his hands up, feigning innocence, before darting out of the front door. My hand wraps around Tate’s wrist before he can follow suit behind them, pushing up on my tiptoes to speak lowly in his ear.
“Don’t let them try to intimidate you.”
He smiles down at me, giving me a small nod before he’s pulling out of my grasp and heading outside after them. What does that mean? Was that a good or a bad nod? My mind goes into a spiral before my mom steps in again to save the day.
“He’s handsome, Mae,” Mom says. “And he seems sweet.”
“He is sweet.”
“Not handsome?” she pushes, the corner of her lip twitching.
The side look I shoot her must be enough to get her to stop pestering me about it, because she drops her chin to her chest with a small nod. But if there’s not one thing to nag about, there’s always something else.
She’s quiet for a few seconds before saying, “And Landon… You guys just didn’t work out?”
I swallow. “No. We’re over. Completely.”
Mom looks at me, and her brows twitch in almost a frown, but she quickly smooths it out before I can go deciphering what it means.
I put my hands on her shoulders. “It’s a good thing, Mom.”
This time, I’m the one pulling her in for a hug, and I know it’s going to be the start of many this weekend, but she’s used to it.
If there’s one thing I’m always going to do, it’s turn into a little girl again when I’m around her.
I still crawl into bed with her from time to time when I’m home, and then my dad makes breakfast in bed in the morning while we watch Mamma Mia!
It’s a whole tradition. I’ll do it until I’m old, I don’t care.
Our moment is interrupted as the twins come back inside, more of our suitcases in tow, with Tate trailing behind them.
Everything seems normal, but I know my brothers, and I know they don’t have a bone in their body that’s capable of not saying what’s on their mind.
I study Tate’s face as he walks in, and when his dark eyes meet mine, he smiles.
“Well, you two get cleaned up. Take a nap. Whatever you need to do,” Mom says. “We’ll be prepping for dinner. You’re welcome to join us, but if you need to rest, we’ll see you for dinner at five.”
My feet are taking me up the stairs before I can even ponder what I’d like to do because I need to know if my brothers tried to rile him up outside.
I need to know if they’re being nice. Tate follows me up the steps, our main bags in each hand so we can get cleaned up, and I lead him down the hallway toward my old bedroom door.
“This is me,” I tell him, turning to face him before pointing to the door across the hall. “This is the guest bedroom.”
That smile is still dancing along his lips as he nods, lifting my bag and walking it into my room. I can’t tell what it means, or if he’s just trying to put on a brave face for me, so I quickly follow in behind him, closing the door quietly.
“Are you okay?” I ask him before he’s even set my bag on the floor.
“Yes,” he says softly, his forehead creasing as he peeks up at me through his glasses, bending down to place my bag gently next to my old bed.
“They didn’t bother you?”
He shakes his head, standing up straight.
“And you’d tell me?” I ask gently, biting at my lip as I crane my neck to look up at him now. “If they said something, right?”
“Yes,” he whispers, “I would.”
Wrapping my arms around myself, I nod, taking his answers for what they are instead of looking too deeply into them.
That’s something I’m bad at. Something Landon used to get fed up with the longer we were together.
Sometimes, I used to think that maybe I deserved the way he treated me because I was so annoying.
I felt like I was constantly doing something wrong.
“I was going to shower and head down,” I eventually say. “You can stay and take a nap, if you need to.”
“I’m okay,” he urges. “I’ll clean up and go down with you.”
“Okay.” I give a small smile.
“Okay.”
It’s not until he leaves my room that I realize my heart was pounding the entire time.