“Staying over, I think.”
“Figured.”
I frown. “Why?”
She turns and leans against the kitchen counter, peering at me again like she’s confused. “I thought that’s why you came home this weekend.”
“Thought what was? It’s the last weekend before lacrosse season. I always come home then.”
A knowing smile curves her lips, like she has a secret she can’t wait to share. “It’s food truck night.”
My mood immediately elevates, and I fist pump the air. “Seriously?”
She grins at me and wiggles her eyebrows as I clap my hands together in glee.
About five years ago, several streets in our neighborhood got together to host a block party. There was a reason, but fuck knows what it was. It was someone’s genius idea to get food trucks to come and cater it rather than hauling tables into the street. It was such a huge success, that it became a biannual event, with the location rotating between the participating neighborhoods. With everything that’s going on with Wes, it completely slipped my mind.
I turn at the sound of footsteps in time to see my dad step into the kitchen in his running gear.
“Sol!” he exclaims, striding over and giving me a. hug. “Didn’t expect you until lunch time.”
“Yeah. I woke up early and got restless.”
I feel my mom’s eyes on me from where she’s grabbing coffee mugs but refuse to look at her.
“Did you train this morning?” Dad asks, moving to fill his water bottle at the sink.
I shake my head. “No.”
“Want to come for a run with me?”
“Yes!” My enthusiasm causes him to raise his eyebrows, but I ignore it and leap to my feet. “Give me five to get changed.”
A run is exactly what I need. Dad’s in great shape for his mid-fifties and if I’m keeping him company he’ll likely push even harder on this run, which means a good hour and half at least. Just what I need to keep my mind off . . . things.
Four minutes later, I bound back up the stairs in an old pair of shorts and a light sweatshirt. Mom hands me a water bottle and I kiss her on the cheek.
“Have fun, boys,” she says. “I’ll do us a brunch. I’m sure you’ll be starving when you get back.”
“Sounds good,” Dad says.
Shit. I shift awkwardly. “Erm, Mom?”
She raises her eyebrows. “Yes?”
“I meant to say before. I’ve, erm, invited a friend to come for lunch. Is that okay?”
“Well, it would be a bit late now if it wasn’t.” She laughs. “Is it Alex or Zak?”
My skin heats and I hope she doesn’t notice the way my cheeks are burning. “Neither. It’s Wes. You know, the guy who’s helping with the fundraiser?”
Dad laughs beside me. “Oh no. Please don’t tell Jacey. Let it be a surprise.”
I frown. “Why?”
“Jacey’s going through a bit of hero worship,” Mom explains. “When you mentioned him to her, she tracked him down on the school website and she’s now an expert in all things Wes.”
My eyebrows shoot up. “Seriously?”