Page 149 of From Nowhere

Take it easy today.

The coolest biker in the world loves you.

Ozzy x

I grin at the note Ozzy scrawled on the inside of my bedroom door with a permanent marker. He knows stage two of the renovation will be upstairs, including new doors. However, now I will have to keep this door because it’s where he’s written his first official love note to me.

“There’s our favorite girl,” Dad says after I gingerly make my way to the kitchen, where my parents are making breakfast and coffee.

“The bar has been set low,” I say as my mom kisses me on the cheek.

“Speaking of setting the bar low,” she says. “Did a boy crawl in through your window last night?” She smirks, handing me a cup of coffee to carry to my sofa.

“Aboy? What am I? Fourteen?”

“Well, only teenagers would crawl in and out of windows,” she says, cracking eggs into a bowl. If she only knew that sneaking aroundand crawling in and out of windows are our thing—a Maren-and-Ozzy thing.

“He was so quiet. How did you know?”

My parents laugh. “We are all knowing,” Mom says. “If you’re ever a parent, you’ll have this superpower too.”

I hum and nod.

“Speaking of parents and kids, Lola seems pretty taken with you.” My mom eyes me over her shoulder while whisking the eggs.

“I love Lola.”

“Like you love carrot cake?” she asks, returning her attention to the stove.

“Like I’d love my own child.”

Both my parents whip their heads in my direction.

“Are you ready for this?” Mom asks.

I laugh. “Loving Lola?”

“You nearly died because of your job. Is it fair to that young girl for you to be the woman in her life who loves her like a mother after her mother died in a car accident?”

“It will make her more resilient,” Dad says, cubing the last mango.

“Aaron!” Mom punches his arm. “That’s a terrible thing to say. When children lose their parents, it doesn’t toughen them up like letting them fall off their bikes and scrape their knees.”

“What if I don’t die?” I say, bringing their attention back to me. “What if I do my job, and it doesn’t kill me? What if I live for a century and die of old age? Because that’s a possibility, too, right?”

Mom focuses on the eggs in the frying pan, slowly stirring them. “You’re right.”

I cup my hand at my ear. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

“If you didn’t hear it the first time, too bad. I’m not repeating it.”

I laugh. “You said I’m right. Has hell frozen over? Are pigs flying?”

“Have you shown Ozzy this charming side of you?” Mom carries a plate of eggs and fruit to me.

“Ozzy has seen all of my sides,” I say with an ornery grin.

“That is an example of something your parents don’t want to know.” She frowns, setting the plate on my wooden lap desk.

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