way-too-confined space.”
“Well…that does change things a little…but why don’t you bring them?”
“What?” I almost shriek. “No. No. I am not bringing my parents on some random trip to the lake with you.”
The pipes in my bathroom shriek as the bathroom toilet flushes, and when the sink is turned on, those fucking pipes groan, add more shrieks, and make a fucking remix.
“Jesus,” my dad mutters from behind the shower curtain.
Holy Stephen King novels and horror flicks. They’ve been here not even three hours, and my nerves are already shot to shit.
Hand to my face, I turn into a real-life version of the facepalm emoji.
“Come on, Ruby,” Cap says into my ear, his voice cajoling. “My cabin has seven bedrooms. It’ll be fine.”
“I don’t care if your cabin has seven bedrooms, Cap!”
My dad pops out from behind the curtain unceremoniously, and I jump as he reaches out and takes the phone from my ear.
“Seven bedrooms, you say?” He pauses with my phone now pressed to his ear. “Yep, yep. How many baths?”
“Dad!” I hiss, trying unsuccessfully to grab the phone. He holds a stiff arm on my forehead so all my arms can do is pinwheel.
“Fantastic. I assume they all have doors?” He chuckles then. “Great. Give us ten. We’ll all be down,” he says insanely and then hangs. Up. The. Phone.
“Dad!”
“I’m a grown man, Ruby. I’m not going to spend the next three days shitting in a photo booth. We’re going to the damn lake with your boss. Pack a bag and get your ass in gear.” He looks from me to my mom and adds, “You too, Connie.”
After years of living with Mark and Connie Rockford, I know I have no hope of changing the outcome. All I can do here is pack a bag, say a prayer, and hope that a weekend away with Caplin Hawkins and my parents doesn’t actually kill me.
We’ve been on the road to Cap’s cabin in Upstate New York for an hour and a half when my face starts to go numb.
All the back-and-forth between blushing in embarrassment and cringing in horror has used facial muscles I didn’t even know I had.
My mom has asked one million questions worthy of a background check—all of which Cap has answered with surprising patience—and my dad has grumbled a million and one times in the background about anything and everything he can think of. Potholes, crazy drivers, tollbooths, you name it, and Mark has an opinion.
When we pull into a gas station and Cap climbs out of the driver seat, I actually consider begging him to leave me here to hitchhike home. He sets the gas to pump and then rounds the hood to head inside the store.
My dad rolls down his window, and I do the same, fearful of what might transpire if I don’t at least monitor their communication.
Cap notices the motion and turns back to the car. I actually start to feel light-headed from how fucking handsome he is. “Can I get you anything inside, Mr. Rockford?”
“Sure thing, kiddo,” my dad responds without shame or hesitation. “Some stool softeners and some Imodium.”
My head sinks into my hands, and I sink deeper into my seat. Oh my God, why are my parents so embarrassing?
“Don’t those two have opposing purposes?” Cap asks good-naturedly, and my dad, being my dad, doesn’t hesitate to explain.
“You bet. But my intestines are like a sausage casing, son. I can jam a whole lot of shit in there without any movement, but eventually, the casing’s gonna burst, and the results aren’t pretty.”
I can’t even look up to see Cap’s reaction. I’m so mortified, my eyes have actually lost all function. But evidently, my ears still work, because I can easily distinguish a smile in Cap’s voice when he replies, “Oh yes, sir. I get it. I’ll grab both for you and be out in just a minute.”
“Thanks,” my dad says, and it’s immediately followed by the sound of his window rolling up.
I’m still drowning in the situation, scrubbing at my face vigorously, when a gentle hand lands on my elbow. I startle and pull up my head to find Cap standing dangerously close to my door.
“What about you, doll?” he questions softly. “Can I get you anything?”
“Some arsenic maybe,” I suggest, and his teeth sink playfully into his bottom lip. My eyes shoot to the movement like heat-seeking missiles.
He nods toward the back seat where Mark and Connie are arguing over the fact that my dad has now taken off his