I rolled my eyes but didn’t give him the satisfaction of a response.
He walked over to my chair and urged me to my feet before enveloping me in a warm hug. The smell of my dad and home and love and my childhood wrapped me up in nostalgia. I returned his embrace and buried my face in his chest. “I missed you, guys,” I whispered.
“I missed you too, baby. Don’t wait so long to come home, okay?”
I nodded into his shoulder.
He leaned back and took me in with an affectionate grin. “It’s hard to believe my little Cassie is all grown up, living her life in New York, and excelling in her career. You make me so proud, sweetheart.”
“Thanks, Daddy.” I returned his smile.
“You know, you look different from the last time I saw you.”
“I do?”
He nodded. “You look happy.”
My brow scrunched in confusion. “I’m always happy, Dad. I have nothing to be sad about in my life.”
He shook his head. “Not like this, baby. This is a different kind of happy,” he said and glanced toward Thatch standing at the kitchen sink. “But I’m sure I don’t have to tell you the reason for those bright eyes or glowing smile.”
I started to respond, but my dad stopped me by pulling me in for another quick hug.
“Risking my heart was the hardest thing I ever did with your mom,” he whispered into my ear. “But it’s the single best decision of my life.” He squeezed my shoulders and then headed for his study.
I stood frozen in my spot until Sean bounded down the hallway and nearly barreled into me.
“Yo, Thatch! You fucking coming or what?” he practically shouted as he sat down on a chair and slipped on his trainers.
“Jesus,” I muttered and slapped him upside the head. “You scared the shit out of me.”
Sean ignored me and tied his laces.
“Are you going now?” Thatch asked as he turned toward us. His eyes bounced like ping-pong balls between me, Sean, and my mom as he wiped his hands off with a dry dish towel.
“Yeah,” my brother answered and stood. “You ready?”
“Wait. Where are you going?” I crossed my arms over my chest.
“Your boyfriend is coming to the gym with me.”
“Is that okay?” Thatch walked toward me and placed his hands on my hips. “What time is our flight?”
“If you make it back by three, we’ll have plenty of time to get to the airport.”
“How about I’ll get back by one, and I’ll take you to lunch before we leave?” he offered.
My eyes lit up. “Italian?”
He smirked. “Anything you want, honey.”
“Okay. Deal. But go easy on my brother. He’s still recovering from an injury.”
Sean scoffed. “I’m one hundred percent healthy, Cass. Stop being such a fucking mother hen.”
I shot a glare in his direction. “I’m your big sister. I’m supposed to fucking worry about you.”
“That’s e-fucking-nough,” my mother called over her shoulder as she put dishes away. “No bickering on Sundays. Those are the rules.”
Thatch narrowed his eyes. He’d been on to us before, but we’d pretty much dumped the bucket of truth on him now. He glanced between Sean and me and then my mother until his eyes met mine again with a knowing raise of his brow. “The whole no-cursing bit? You were screwing with me, weren’t you?”
I grinned. “Oh, yeah. I was totally fucking with you. My mom sounds like a sailor compared to me.”
He smirked and pointed an accusing finger in my direction. “I’m getting you back for that one, Crazy.”
“I don’t give a—” I said and finished the sentence by scratching the side of my nose with my middle finger.
He laughed and shook his head, before turning toward Sean. “You had an injury?” he asked him.
My brother sighed. “Yeah. ACL. College football. But it’s been a year, and I’ve been training my ass off.”
“He’s going to go pro,” I added.
Thatch’s brows shot up, intrigued.
“Hoping to go pro. Nothing set in stone yet,” Sean chimed in.
“He’ll go pro,” I announced. “He’s that good.”
“He’ll go fucking pro!” my mother added.
Thatch grinned.
Sean rolled his eyes but didn’t say anything else. He knew better. When Momma Diane says you’re going to fucking do something, you’ll do it.
My brother would have been drafted into the NFL had he not gotten injured at the end of his junior year. But he had been training his ass off for the past year, and I was more than confident he’d get there. His talent wasn’t something you could teach. It was ingrained in him. And one day soon, he’d achieve his dream of playing professional football.
“All right, let’s get a move on it,” my brother said as he grabbed his keys, wallet, and cell phone from the kitchen counter. “It’s leg day, and I’ve gotta get at least two hours of weights in before cardio.”