Page 62 of Last on the List
“Fair point.”
“Just chill out, okay? Maybe go visit your parents tonight. Get out of that tiny house of sexual memories and breathe in the fresh country air.”
“That’s a good idea,” I respond crisply because it totally still smells like Max in here. “Nothing like a hardy discussion about my future with my mother to bring me back to reality.”
“Mmmkay, Bestie. I’m going back to sleep now,” she coos into the line and doesn’t even wait for me to say goodbye before hanging up.
I feel rejected, and the sun isn’t even up yet. Wish I could say the same for my libido.
That evening, when the familiar sight of my family’s big red barn comes into view, I feel a modicum of relief as I pull into the large circle driveway to park. Leaving my keys in the ignition, I trudge my way up to the classic white, two-story home.
Both my parents have full-time jobs and use their hobby farm as supplemental income. They raise lambs and sell the babies to young kids in 4-H. Some even keep their animals out here and come out to feed them and work with them every day to prepare them for the fair. It’s a decent side hustle for my parents, so I think they’ll do it as long as they’re physically able.
We didn’t grow up with a lot of money, and I remember as a kid being wildly jealous of my classmates who wore name-brand clothes. For Christmas one year, I got an Under Armor hoodie from my grandparents, and I wore that thing until it was practically see-through because it was the nicest thing I owned.
Which is why I had such strong ambition when it came to my studies. I was certain that if I got good grades and took all the right college classes, then I could find an amazing job, be rich, happy, and have everything my heart ever desired.
Boy was I so very wrong.
“Hey, Cassie!” my mom, Sheryl, calls out from the front door as I walk up to the wraparound porch.
She opens her arms for a hug, and I sink into her like a warm blanket. My mom and I have similar builds of big chest and curves, but my dark hair and fair complexion come directly from my dad.
“Come on in. Dad just got in from doing chores.” She steps back and holds the door open.
When I walk in, my dad is just finishing washing his hands at the kitchen sink when he turns to me for a hug. “Good to see you, turbo,” my dad, Kurtis, says, squeezing me firmly. He’s called me turbo ever since I got my license. Said I kicked rocks every time I peeled out of our gravel driveway to go to school.
“You’re staying for supper, right?” Mom asks, checking what looks like a pot roast in the oven.
“Yes, definitely,” I reply, sitting down at the table with Dad. “It smells great.”
“How’s the new job?” Dad inquires, his eyes crinkling with the big smile on his face.
“It’s good…the kid is so sweet.”
“Everly is her name, right?” Mom confirms, tossing the potholder on the counter before coming over to join us.
“Yes. She’s eleven, so it’s super easy. Honestly, she can take care of herself mostly, but she’s at that age where she’s not quite old enough to be home alone all summer. So I feel more like a buddy than a nanny.”
“I can see that,” Mom says, her brow furrowing as she watches me. “Does it pay well?”
“Yeah, it’s good,” I answer quickly.
“But it’s only for the summer?”
“Yes.”
“And what will you do after that?” she pries, and I feel a bit like I’m being interviewed for a job instead of reconnecting with my parents.
I shrug noncommittally, not prepared to tell them about the odd call I got from Kate, aka Mercedes, yesterday. I’m still not sure how I feel about that whole idea she pitched me, and until I do, I don’t need my parents’ opinion on the matter.
My mom sighs heavily. “All that education and you’re just…nannying.”
“I’m taking some time, Mom,” I say for the hundredth time.
“While eating away at your savings,” she replies quickly. “Your student loans are going to dry up your pot pretty quick, and then what will you do?”
“Sheryl…” my dad warns.
