Page 74 of Facing the Line

“Hadley, I’m a guy. Of course I did.”

“I’m about to make all your dreams come true, then,” she says, her tone smug and flirty. If I wasn’t driving, I’d kiss that grin off her face. Because she already does.

I park on the street outside the three-story brick townhouse I grew up in, and my mom bustles out the red front door. Located on the corner in our Lincoln Park neighborhood, it’s a gem. My parents could probably sell it for five times what they paid—a four-bedroom, three bath house with a two-car garage below? Yeah, they’d make a killing. But it was perfect for our family of seven, and they’re not ready to move yet.

My three older sisters are all married and out of the house, only Emma lives with my parents. She’s still in high school and will be until she’s twenty-two and can’t utilize public education services anymore. Maybe I should have prepped Hadley more about her and the situation, but I don’t like warning people about my family. It makes me feel gross, like I’m saying there’s something wrong with Emma when there’s not. Different isn’t bad—it’s just different. Hadley will see soon enough.

My mom has never met a stranger in her life. As a kindergarten teacher, nothing phases her and she excels at putting people at ease. Case in point—she barely waits until the car is in park to open the passenger door.

“Oh, you must be Hadley,” she says, shaking her hand before Hadley has unbuckled. Her straight red hair frames her face, but the bangs over her green eyes are new. “It’s so nice to meet you! Come on in, let me get you a drink.”

“Hi, Mom,” I say, a teasing lilt to my voice. “Did you forget about me, your favorite son?”

“Now, Jonas, I was only being hospitable. How about you carry in the luggage and then come sit with us on the deck?”

Hadley lets my mom drag her inside as I open the tailgate and grab our bags.

“Thank you, Mrs. Kaminski. I appreciate you letting me stay here,” she says, grinning as they enter.

“Of course! And please call me Mary.”

My mom leaves the front door wide open, chattering away while I follow after them. My dad recently converted the downstairs bedroom to an office space with a pullout couch. Emma sleeps there sometimes if the stairs are giving her problems, and it’s great for company. I leave Hadley’s bags there while my mom shows her the guest bath.

As Hadley freshens up, my mom pulls me into the kitchen and wraps me in a hug. “There you are! So good to see you, honey.”

I squeeze her back, letting the familiar scent of home wash over me. Fresh laundry detergent and a hint of lavender from my mom’s favorite lotion. Warmth fills my chest. Even if it’s not as my official girlfriend, I’m excited to have Hadley in my house, with my family.

As if she can read my mind, my mom raises her eyebrows. “She seems nice!”

“Mom.” I shake my head. “We’re friends. It’s not like that.” Though I hate lying to my mom.

“Well, I’m glad she could come. Where’s Evan?”

“He’s on the lake for the Fourth.” His family has a vacation house in Muskegon on Lake Michigan, so it makes sense they’d do a big get together. Did he back out because he suspects something is going on between me and Hadley? Maybe. But aslong as he doesn’t ask, I don’t have to lie. Although keeping a secret isn’t much better.

“That’s lovely,” my mom says, oblivious to my inner turmoil. “I’m sure it will be nice to see Hunter. And Cooper’s in Colorado?”

“Yep, Denver.”

She sighs. “I can’t believe you’ll graduate next year and move off like that.”

What’s there to say to that? I kiss the top of her head and smile. “We’ll see.”

My mom makes a happy little noise in the back of her throat. She drops this conversation when Hadley steps into the kitchen, beaming.

I itch to touch her, to lace my fingers through hers or rest my hand on the small of her back. Instead, I lean against the butcher block counter and smile.

“Mary, your house is beautiful,” she tells my mom, who practically bursts with pleasure. She loves hosting.

Beautiful is a stretch. Our house is nice but comfortable, probably nothing compared to what Hadley experienced growing up with a mom who’s a model and a dad with professional hockey money. But her gaze holds nothing but joy as my mom offers to show her the patio.

The yard is the size of a postage stamp, barely big enough for a game of catch. It’s fenced in, a tiny corner of the city tucked away from everything else. Half of the space is covered by the deck my dad built off the house. He stands at the grill now, wearing an apron that says, “Hi, Hungry. I’m Dad.” My sister Katie bought it for him for Christmas. He couldn’t be prouder.

He waves at us—not a big talker—and lets my mom chatter on to Hadley.

I shouldn’t be surprised when the fence gate swings open and a handful of my nieces spill in, full of shrieking and laughter. Because of course my mom invited everyone over for dinner.

I hope Hadley is strong enough to meet my family.

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