Page 38 of On His Schedule
I blink. “Alright. I’ll see you later.” I stand up and hug her. “I thought you offered me dinner.”
“That was before I saw her blush. You’re going back to Hawthorne now.”
I shrug and head for the door. “Do what you want. She’syourfriend.”
“Thank you.”
I close the door behind me. The stairwell is narrow on the way down. I push out into the early evening and Main Street is doing its dinner-rush thing — the door of the Vietnamese place opening and closing, a couple at the corner waiting for the light, somebody on a bike with a backpack the size of his torso goingby too fast for the sidewalk. I put my hands in my hoodie pocket and walk.
I reach the Hawthorne House shortly after, and Stanley is on the porch with a protein smoothie and his feet on the railing. He sees me coming up the walk.
“Reeve, where have you been?”
I raise my hands. “You came to the library to spy on me?”
He sips his smoothie. “I had to see if my memory served me right.” He sees the look on my face and continues, “You didn’t answerhot or not, so I needed to check her out for myself.”
I don’t want to know his consensus, but he’s going to tell me anyway.
“I have to admit, Reeve. I’m a little worried.”
“Don’t be.”
“Then where have you been?”
I look at him. Is this fucker keeping tabs on me now? He needs to get a life.
He looks at his empty wrist. “For three hours after your tutor session.”
I come up the porch steps and don’t stop. I walk into the house and see Blue on the couch with his phone. I walk over to him.
“Is Stanley driving you up the fucking wall too?”
He looks up from his phone. “No. Do you want to do something about it?”
I look out the window at Stanley drinking his protein smoothie. “Not now. Maybe this weekend at the party.”
Blue nods. “First Hawthorne House party. I’m down.”
I pat his back and head to my bedroom. The party is this weekend.
Chapter 8
Lucy
Thelawnhasbeenmowed. I sit in the driveway with the engine off and look at it. It’s Friday night, and my mom invited me over for dinner. Imagine that. I never thought I’d live to see the day. So, here I am. There are no trash bags leaning against the bin. Even the grass against the house is short, so I suspect someone owns a weedwhacker.
When I walk in, the house smells like garlic and butter. The TV is off in the living room. The curtains are open. Country music is playing in the kitchen. The light in the house is yellow and warm in a way I do not have words for. Bear is at the kitchen table reading a book, which means I must be seeing things.
He looks up. “Hi, Lucy.”
“Hey, Bear. A book?”
He nods. “Tyr’s making chicken parm.”
My heart stings in my chest, so I inhale. “Chicken parm?”
“He made it last night. It’s so good. He’s teaching Mom, so she’s making it tonight just for you.”
