“Very safe. Quiet.” I forced my smile. “And what is that? Smells so good.”
Probably not commonplace, but as a family, we always made birthday dinners together regardless of whose birthday it was. The way my parents put it was, those types of things could always be catered. We could always go out and make a huge thing of it, but there was nothing like gathering around in the kitchen and cooking together. To catch up more than anything and that’s literally what we did after I got my things put away.
As it turned out, we were making Dad’s favorite, lasagna. The dish was simple, but again, that wasn’t the point. With all of us being busy, spending time together was the most important thing.
I was immediately handed my apron and joined the two already at work. I definitely needed an upgrade since I still rocked My Little Pony. I felt pretty silly wearing it, but it was always a fun topic to poke at and not just by my parents. I got just as much fun having a laugh at it too.
Dad wore his “Kiss the Cook” apron while Mom’s looked like something Julia Child would wear. It had frills and everything.
“So tell us why we haven’t heard from you.” Mom eyed me, pulling that lasagna out. They’d already gotten it started, so the longest part of the meal was done. In fact, other than putting together a salad and plating the sides, my parents pretty much had everything covered. I found myself grateful since I was tired from the drive.
“Just been busy,” I said, thinking about how I’d been busy. I hoped my cheeks hadn’t colored when I threw croutons on the salad. “What about you? Why haven’t you texted me?”
Really, this was a running joke. I definitely talked to them every few days, and since Mom knew that, she stuck her tongue out at me.
“Leave her alone, love.” Laughing, Dad hugged his arms around my mom’s waist. Those two were seriously sickeningly perfect together. So dang cute. He hugged her. “Absolutely no fighting on my birthday.”
“Only if my child puts her lip away.” Mom winked, then patted Dad’s hand. “Come on. Let’s get this stuff together so we can eat.”
She actually groaned while saying it, which made us all laugh. Mom took the majority of the plated sides while I finalized the salad and Dad took the bread rolls out of the pan. He arranged those while Mom whisked away the sides we’d already gotten together to the dining room.
“Everything okay, though, honey?” Dad asked, peering up at me. He tossed the oven mitt he’d been using away. “Your mom’s joking about the updates, but she really wanted updates. Like really wanted. You know her. She could talk to you every hour if you or I’d let her.”
Laughing, I did. I rolled my eyes. “Things have been swell. And I’ve been good.”
“Yeah?” He came over, lounging a hip against the counter. “No issues with your coursework?”
“Nope.”
“No, um,” he started, and when he didn’t finish, my lashes flickered up. He’d been moving a hand on his jaw, as if considering something. He placed his hands on the counter. “No problems?”
I stopped adding things to the salad, putting a bag of shredded carrots down. “No. I’ve been fine. Really.”
“I just worry, you know? That weekend? With Jax?” He shook his head. “It didn’t go how I planned.”
We’d all been well aware of it. But maybe, it was time, I did understand his lack of candor. I knew he was my parent, but I was at the age where neither of them needed to keep stuff from me. Stuff involving the family anyway.
Jax was his family.
The doorbell rang, and Dad’s eyes flickered in that direction. He started to go until Mom yelled, “I’ll get it!” from somewhere in the house.
A smile before Dad pushed off the island. Putting an arm around me, he squeezed my shoulder. “Of course, you’re okay. You always are.”
I tried to be for the most part. I still had a lot of work to do, but things didn’t have to be okay if they weren’t. He didn’t have to be okay if he wasn’t. He put on such a strong face. “Dad—”
“We have a visitor, darling.”
Dad and I turned to find a visitor indeed.
He held a bottle of wine.
Next to my mother, my stepbrother Jaxen towered, like literally an expansive structure and that was just his height. Shoulder to shoulder, he filled so much of the kitchen I questioned that the room was three times the size of most.
Mom stood quietly beside him, looking exceedingly happy, albeit worried. The unease wrinkled her brow just enough for me to notice. She placed a hand out in my stepbrother’s direction. “Jax is here, guys.”
We both saw that. Jax, with a large bottle of Merlot in his hands. Jax wearing a sweater with product in his hair like he ever did anything like that. He had the dusky locks pulled back, perfect and looking like a politician’s son. His sweater cuffed tight as his biceps and shoulders, chillier today, which was why he probably brought it out. I’d actually worn a jacket on my drive over.
He looked good. No, more than good, but where I was used to smiles starting to surface when we were solely together, not an inkling of that touched his expression now. His jaw was tight, his eyes cold and narrowed. He definitely noticed my adoptive father.