Adela said, spooning more mud cake into her mouth.
“I still don’t believe you,” I joked.
“Hey, graduates,” Dad said, dipping his finger into the middle of the cake Mom had baked me.
I picked up my cap, throwing it at him. “Mine. Back off.”
“Ours,” Adela corrected, grabbing the cake and moving it out of Dad’s reach.
He chuckled, then went to the fridge and popped open a beer.
A rumble, followed by the sound of screeching brakes, had my eyes bulging, cake trapped and clogging my throat.
I swallowed hard, then looked at Dad, who shrugged, seeming just as perplexed as I felt.
We all raced out front just as the bus hit the curb and bounced over the grass, parking half on the road and half on our lawn.
“Nice park job,” Adela said when the door clanged open, and Hendrix leaped down the steps.
“Nice chocolate faces, graduates,” he said, grinning from ear to ear as Adela and I both wiped furiously at our mouths.
My heart flapped, then grew wings with talons that pierced each breath.
Hendrix looked much the same, if not a bit broader and hairier in the face. Dale looked like he’d lost ten pounds, his cheekbones harsh slashes and clothes hanging. They both approached to give us hugs.
Graham and Everett were last to get off the bus, the former wearing a hideous Hawaiian shirt, his hair almost reaching his shoulders.
And Everett, he was the same, only larger in every sense of the word. He seemed taller, broader, and more hardened than when he’d left. The cruel cut of his square jaw was rigid, his hair falling over his forehead and tickling his neck.
I hugged them all, squealing when Graham spun me in a circle, my graduation gown billowing in the air before he planted me on the ground.
Everett’s hand reached out, steadying me, and I couldn’t stop it if I tried. All the pain, anger, and frustration of missing him, of loving him, evaporated, and I threw my arms around his neck, hugging him for far longer than I probably should have as everyone went inside.
“You never called me again.” We both knew it, but I wanted to state it. To know why.
“I couldn’t,” he said, hands tangled up in my hair, and his nose stuck in my neck. “Fuck,” he spewed, pulling away.
“What?” I asked.
Those dark greens darted to the open front door, then back to me, his voice low as he said, “I missed you.”
My stomach jumped, and I smiled, ducking my head when he grinned that megawatt, perfectly imperfect grin of his. “Congrats, Clover.”
“Welcome home,” I said, gesturing to the door and leading the way.
Everyone congregated in the living room, and Dad’s eyes were bright as the band regaled us with tales from the road. Mom ordered in, and I kept quiet in the corner on Hendrix’s old bean bag, my eyes trained on whoever was talking to avoid staring at Everett.
“… thought it was a fucking kangaroo,” Dale said, hands in the air.
“In Dallas?” Everett asked, nursing a beer.
If Mom and Dad were bothered by the underage drinking going down right before their eyes, they didn’t show it. Graham even handed my dad another beer, and since Dad was distracted by the storytelling, he just gestured his thanks before popping the top.
I guess most of them were nearing twenty, but still. I doubted I could get away with taking one for myself, and I desperately needed something to curb the fizzing in my veins whenever I felt his eyes land on me.
“Dallas fucking shmallas, it looked like a kangaroo,” Dale said, next to Graham on the couch, his ankle crossed over his leg.
“You couldn’t tell what it was when it was splattered all over the road like that,” Hendrix said, tapping away on his phone, probably updating his Facebook.
He was the only one who kept up with that. The rest of them faded from the social media grid after the bus rolled out of our driveway. And I only knew because I’d spent an embarrassing amount of time stalking for any sign of Everett. Most pictures were of them playing, of Hendrix and his flavor of the night, or stupid GIFs used to describe how hungover he felt.
“The damage to the bus?” Dad asked.
“Big ass dent, but otherwise okay,” Everett said.
The conversation veered to the gigs they’d played, the small numbers that showed up, and Dale made a comment that made my parents and me cringe. “Didn’t hinder finding sweet tail, though.”
“Shut up, asshole.” Hendrix reached over Graham to