Page 4 of Mashed Hearts
The door slowly swings open, and there's Jack, grinning like he just won the lottery. "Holy shit, he actually showed! Josh, my man!"
"Bro!" I pull him into a back-slapping hug, the kind that says 'I've missed your ugly mug' without getting all sappy. Jack's the same—dimples deep enough to hide spare change, hair styled like he's auditioning for a boy band. I see him occasionally since he’s only an hour south of me in Southern California, but the past few years, school has taken over both our lives. “You owe me for this. That drive from the airport was like driving in a blizzard."
He laughs, hauling me inside. The warmth hits me like a wave, along with the smell of roasted turkey and somethingsweet—pie, maybe? The group's all there, sprawled around the living room and kitchen, and the energy shifts. Half excited chatter, half that awkward pause like when you accidentally walk in on someone in the bathroom.
"Josh?" Ainsley squeals first, bounding over like a puppy. She's got flour on her sweater and that perpetual sunshine smile she always had. "Oh my God, you came! Look at you, all tanned and West Coast-y!"
I grin, pulling her into a hug. "Ains, you haven't aged a day. Still ruling the kitchen like a boss?" She's always been the mom of the group, the one who remembers birthdays and sends care packages.
She punches my arm lightly. "Flattery will only get you pie. Pete, get over here!"
Pete ambles over, his lanky frame unchanged, offering a fist bump that turns into a hug. "Dude, welcome back. Heard you're killing it at UCLA. Surfing every weekend?"
"Something like that," I say with a chuckle, slipping into that easy laid back drawl. "More like dodging traffic and eating too many tacos. You two still disgustingly in love?"
"Guilty," Pete says, winking at Ainsley. "She's got me trained now.”
“Only now?” I tease.
Beth's next, her red curls wild as ever, eyeing me with that sarcastic glint. "Well, if it isn't the prodigal son. Thought you'd forgotten how to find Vermont on a map."
I laugh, hugging her carefully—Beth's hugs are like wrestling a porcupine, all sharp elbows and zero mercy. "Beth, you savage. Life’s just been hectic at school, graduating a semester early, and no time for fun otherwise. Still painting masterpieces that make banks cry?"
"Damn straight. And you're still too pretty for your own good. California agrees with you."
Micah waves from the couch, glasses perched on his nose, laptop balanced on his knees like it's an extension of his body. "Josh! Man, long time. You here to finally lose at Mario Kart again?"
I stride over, ruffling his hair. "Only if you're cheating with that brain of yours. What's up, tech wiz? Built any robots to take over the world yet?"
He smirks. "Working on it. One that fetches beer, at least."
Hope's last in the greeting line, standing poised like she's about to give a TED Talk with a wine glass in one hand and the other hand posted on her hip. "Josh, it's good to see you. We were starting to think you were a myth."
I hug her, her scarf scratching my cheek. "Nah, just a legend in my own mind. How's the business world? Conquering corporations?"
"Trying," she says with a smile. "You look... relaxed. Must be all that sunshine."
The room's buzzing now, that initial awkwardness thawing like snow in the sun. But then my eyes scan the kitchen, and bam—there she is. Kait. Standing by the island, a dish towel slung over her shoulder, her dark hair falling in waves that I remember tangling my fingers in. She's in jeans and a sweater that hugs her just right, and damn, she's even more beautiful than I remembered. Time stands still, like the world's hit pause. The chatter fades to a hum, and it's just her, those eyes that used to light up when I'd sneak her notes in class.
She stands stoically, like a deer caught in the headlights, and her expression flickers—surprise, maybe a hint of nerves. I feel it too, that pull, like gravity's decided we're magnets again.
"Hey, Kait," I say, my voice coming out steadier than I feel. I cross the room, the group parting in slow motion while the magnet that has always existed between Kait and I — pulls us together.
"Josh." Her smile is tentative but real, and up close, she smells like vanilla and home. "You finally made it."
"Yeah. Figured it was time." We lean in for the hug—awkward at first, arms fumbling like we're strangers—but then it lingers. Her body fits against mine like it never forgot, warm and soft, and I swear there's a spark, that old electricity zipping through me. Not just nostalgia; something alive, crackling.
When we pull apart, our eyes lock for a beat too long. "You look good," I murmur, because apparently my brain's on autopilot.
"You too. California suits you." She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, cheeks pink.
Pete clears his throat dramatically. "Okay, lovebirds, save it for the mistletoe. Dinner's ready!"
The group erupts in anxious laughter, breaking the tension, and we all shuffle to the table. It's a massive wooden thing in the dining area, laden with turkey, mashed potatoes drowning in gravy, green beans that look suspiciously healthy, and Ainsley's famous brown sugar asparagus with lemon hollandaise. We cram in, elbows bumping, passing plates like a chaotic assembly line.
"Pass the salad, dude," I say to Micah, who's already piled his plate sky-high.
He slides the basket over. "Don't all the avocados. I know how you Californian’s are."
