Page 36 of The Storm

I make a thoughtful face. “A lone tumbleweed rolling through a vast, empty space if I had to take a stab at it with the information I have now.”

His lips twitch, and he snorts out a laugh. I stare. That’s a first.

“What was your guess before you were enlightened by the truth?” he asks.

“I assumed most of the time you’re busy thinking dark thoughts about the bleakness of existence.”

“Is that the impression I give?”

“More or less. I bet your social media is full of moody photos with quotes about deep pain and the dark depths of the human soul.”

He glances at me. “I don’t do social media.”

“How old are you, exactly? Even my grandfather is on Instagram. He doesn’t get too many likes, though, because he mostly posts these long-ass reels about the English peasants’ revolts, and the audience for minute details on those is apparently limited.”

“You’ve convinced me,” he says tonelessly. “I clearly need some of that in my life.”

I laugh, which seems to startle him just as much as his earlier snort of laughter startled me.

He parks the car five minutes later.

By the time I’m walking down the hallway toward my first class of the day, I’m still in some strange daze.

Because he laughed.

And maybe there’s something there. Maybe we’ve finally turned a corner. Or a new leaf.

Maybe.

TEN

INDY

“Nick,darling, have you had time to pick up your cap and gown yet?” Mom doesn’t look up from the list she’s making on her phone. She’s been engulfed in all the minute details about graduation for weeks now, determined to make the day perfect. I don’t know what that means, other than that there’s a vision board and a lot of lists involved.

Nick stops somewhere in the middle of the kitchen and frowns at Mom.

“What?” he asks.

I almost laugh at the thoroughly horrified look he sends her.

Mom looks up from her phone impatiently. “Your cap and gown. If not, please do that as soon as you can.”

“Yes, Nick,” Dia says, mimicking Mom’s tone to a tee. “I’ll have you know it’s T-minus fifteen days to G-day.”

Mom sends Dia a look. “You laugh now, but you’ll thank me once everything goes off without a hitch.”

“I’m not laughing,” Dia says. “It’s how I show my gratitude. Mockery is the highest form of flattery, Mother.”

Mom taps her phone against the top of Dia’s head gently before she turns her attention back to Nick. She snaps her fingers in his direction. “Cap? Gown?”

“I don’t need those,” Nick says with a suspicious look around like he’s afraid somebody’s going to jump out from behind the corner and force a gown on him.

“Yeah, nice try.” Dia snorts. “If I can’t wear a beautiful dress to walk across that stage, you sure as hell can’t show up in jeans.”

Nick ignores her and goes and opens the fridge. “I have stuff going on that day. Sorry.” It doesn’t sound like he means it at all.

“You have stuff going on on your graduation day?” Mom repeats.