Shecocked her head, furrowing her brows with question. “But why?”
“Youknow why.”
Still,she wore that confusion like it was her new face. “I don’t understand. Ithought the doctor said you weredoin’ better.”
AsI leaned back in my chair, I sighed and pulled my hat off. Dropping itunceremoniously to the table, I smoothed my hands back over my hair and lookedup toward the stars. I wasgonnamiss this sight whenI was back on the road.
“Mama,”I began, my voice heavy and agitated. “I’ve told you this already. Just becauseI’m doing betterright nowdoesn’tmean I’m alwaysgonnabe, okay?”
Shewafted her hand and shook her head. “I don’t know why yougottaimmediately be so negative.”
“It’snot negativity, Mama.”
“Itis, though, Chad,” she insisted, frazzled. “It’s never been a problembefore. You’ve always had a weak stomach, but you’ve just dealt with it. Idon’t see why that has to change now.”
Dadgroaned and put his knife and fork down. “Constance.” His tone bit her lipsshut, but she still glared daringly at him. “Can you leave him alone about it?Don’t make him explain himself everyfreakin’ time hedoesn’twannaeatsomethin’.”
“He’smy son, Mark. I’m allowed to ask questions,” she snapped back.
“Well,you could maybe use a bit of discretion. We’re at a party, for Christ’s sake.”
Mama’sjaw flopped open as my father took the Lord’s name in vain, and I took theopportunity to grab my cap and pull it on backward. “I’mgonnasee what Molly’s up to,” I muttered as I stood up, dismissing my mother andfather in a way that I hadn’t since I was a teenager, but fuck it.
Sincethe diagnosis, Mama had settled herself into a place of comfortable denial. Sheinsisted I’d get better, that things would be back to normal once I was off thePrednisone. Like this was nothing more than having an extreme case of thestomach flu. Dad, on the other hand, had made a few solid attempts to defendme, but he often did it with annoyance and anger. I’d begun to wonder if it wasonly Mama that he’d grown frustrated with.
Iwasn’t looking to be coddled. I wasn’t expecting for either of them to treat melike a broken thing that couldn’t be fixed. But it just would’ve been nice tofeel supported in this, the way they always had in other areas of my life.
Crossingthe yard, I headed toward Molly when Devin and Ty stopped me, beers in theirhands. Dev held a second bottle and passed it to me.
“Youlook like you need that,” he said.
“Thanks,”I replied gratefully and tipped it back to my lips. The cold brew flowed downmy throat in a relaxing wave and I took a deep breath. Calming down and coolingoff.
Tyeyed me sympathetically. “You still okay to go on the road?”
“Oh,yeah.” I nodded with enthusiasm. “I’m so ready to getouttahere. And I promise to keep my ‘roidrage undercontrol,” I said, only half-joking.
“Good,”Devin said, lifting the corner of his mouth in a lopsided smile. “But you’lllet us know if you need to take it easy, right?”
Theyboth eyed me warily, and I guess I deserved that. “Yeah. I’ll tell you guys.”Then, for good measure, I added, “I swear.”
Westood in a moment of silence before I felt a familiar hand press to my lowerback. I looked over my shoulder and found Molly there, smiling and wrapping herarm around my waist. It was a jumpstart to my heart. An instant moment of calmand reassurance that everything would be as I always promised:fine.
Iforgot my unwarranted worries. Forgot my parents’ denial and insistence thatwhatever was going on with me could be swept under the rug.
Thiswas fine.Wewere fine. What elsemattered?
Islid my arm over her shoulders and tugged her tight against me. She tipped herhead against my chest and I felt the tension slip from her body, like theshedding of a heavy skin. Devin and Ty shied away from the moment withacknowledging smiles and quietly excused themselves with the distraction ofSebastian inappropriately teaching Greyson how to play beer pong.
“Howyoudoin’, birthday girl?”
Shewrapped her other arm around my waist and hugged tightly. “Mama’s beendiscussin’ our wedding reception with Donnie. Poor guydoesn’t give a crap about peonies versus daffodils, but there she is,yammerin’ away …”
Ifurrowed my brow and glanced over my shoulder. Like she’d said, Donnie theBartender was clearly roped into a conversation with Sarah. Her hands flutteredanimatedly,excitement alive in her smile. Catching myeye, she waggled her fingers in a wave before she blew me a kiss.
“Isee that,” I chuckled.
“It’skindacute,” she admitted. “But good Lord, we’re noteven social media official yet, and she’s over there, planning the wedding ofthe century.”
