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Closing my eyes for the rest of the drive, I didn't open them again until the taxi came to a stop and the driver told me we were there.

“Twenty-five,” he said, holding his hand between the front and back seats. “Do you need any help with your bags?”

“No, I got it, thank you.” Handing him the cash, I picked up my stuff and climbed out.

Staring up at my parents house, I adjusted the collar on my jacket to block the sharp wind, and took in a deep breath of frosty air.

Here we go.

Standing at the front door, I knocked gently and opened it up, poking my head inside. “Hello!” I called out into the quiet house. “Mom, Dad, I'm home.” Stepping inside, I closed the door behind me and dropped my bags to the floor.

“Gwenie,” my mom said loudly, a broad smile on her face as she came around the corner with her arms out, embracing me instantly. “I'm so glad you're home, Gwenie.”

“Please don't call me that, I'm not ten anymore.” Hugging her back, she chuckled as she snuggled me tighter.

“Oh stop, you might be all grown up now, but you're still my baby.”

Patting her back, I pulled away. “I know, I know. Is Tyler here yet?” I asked, taking off my coat and hanging it on the rack by the door.

“No, he'll be here tomorrow with Jill and the kids.” Waving her hand for me to follow her, she walked towards the kitchen. “How was your flight?”

“Not bad, a little rough because of the weather, but I made it.”

“Are you hungry? I know that airplane food is horrible, how about some leftovers?” Opening the fridge, she bent inside and took out a glass dish. “I made lasagna last night, and we both know your father doesn't need the rest of this.”

“What's that? Don't you dare feed the rest of that to her, I claimed it first.” My father walked in, latching his big hands around the top of my shoulders and giving me a squeeze.

“Hey, Dad,” I said, turning to give him a hug.

“Hey, kiddo, how's life treating ya?”

“It's good, busy, but good.”

“Well—” Kissing me on the top of my head, he gave me a warm smile. “I'm glad you finally made time for us little people.” Winking, he walked to the silverware drawer and pulled out a fork. “And don't think you're going to eat all that alone, half of it's mine.”

Giggling, my mother plated us both some of her famous lasagna. “You two are going to be the death of me, you know that.”

“Us,”I said, my mouth half full of food. “I thought Tyler already killed you years ago?”

“Oh don't even get me started with him. If it wasn't for Jill, I don't know where the hell he'd be right now.”

“Probably prison,” my father chimed in while swallowing a big bite of food.

“Ron!” my mother snapped, giving him the stink eye. “Don't say things like that.”

Laughing, I started to feel a little more at ease, and a bit silly for being so resistant on coming back.

It actually felt really good to be home.

Maybe I've just been worrying about nothing. . .

I could handle five days of this, no problem at all. So long as I didn't have to leave the house.

I spent most of the afternoon just catching up with my parents. My father was supposed to be on a diet, my mother was supposed to be the one keeping him in line.

It wasn't going well.

I watched him eat a whole bowl of lasagna, a piece of banana bread, a pudding cup, and then actual dinner. His gallbladder was probably screaming bloody murder.