Mia Hill. College bound with an athletic scholarship. A go-getter with big dreams and a fully thought out plan to make sure they come true.
But with her father's release from prison looming and the inevitable stresses of adulting, everything she wa...
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There's a comfortable silence filling the car as we drive down the streets of Oakwood. A sense of calm blankets the town, but it's not immediately recognizable. On this early summer night, the sidewalks are busy, filled with people engaged in conversation as they stride along with brightly lit smiles. Cars glide down on the road with us, but not in the same rush as the traffic back home. It's like time moves slower here, more intentional and enjoyable.
It's one of the things I love most about being here each summer. It always reminds me to breathe, to slow everything down and just be present. Sometimes I wonder what it would have been like if we stayed here, if Mom and I never moved to California. How different would my life have been? Would fate have still brought Tommy into our lives? I don't think there's any version of a world where Tommy doesn't become family, and that very thought has my heart pulling again. It's been a difficult day to be away from home, from all of the things that have ever brought me true comfort.
The subtle tick of the blinker has my eyes flashing out of a blur as I glance around the parking lot we've turned into. A small coffee shop comes into view, Grayson pulling into a spot right in front of the large glass windows.
My eyes fly over to his, my body shifting to sit up straight. But before I have a chance to question what we're doing here, his hand is on the door, throwing it open and climbing out. Before he disappears, he leans back into the car and tips his chin at me. "Stay here."
And then he's gone.
I watch him through the window, noticing the way the brunette behind the counter adjusts her cleavage a bit, batting her eyes with a cheeky smile as he approaches her. There's really nowhere that boy can go without tits being thrown in his face. It's truly no wonder why he coats himself in confidence.
He grabs two cups from the counter, sauntering toward the entrance and pressing his back to the door to push it open. As he slides back into the car, he offers me a cup, my eyes staring in shock before I actually reach out and feel the warmth against my hands. The familiar heat of the cup already settling something in my chest. The smell of chocolate filling my nose and sending a wave of calm throughout my system. My eyes close briefly, allowing my other senses to revel in the feeling of home.
"Look," he says quietly, and my eyes fall open to see him glancing over at me. "Aunt Sadie gets word that you're homesick and she's gonna make it a whole thing. Movie night. Root beer floats. Probably eight different kinds of chip dip. And lots of personal conversation. So, before you get doused in that kind of overbearing attention, I figured–"
"Grayson," I cut him off, taking in one more inhale of chocolate. "Thank you."
He holds my eyes, my appreciation filling all of the space between us. And then, he smirks. "You're sick of the root beer floats, aren't you? It's written all over your face."
I can't help laughing. "I'm definitely more of a hot chocolate and board games kind of girl. Just don't tell Sadie that. I don't want to rain on her parade."
