Page 30 of Not How I Saw That Going

Funis not a word I associate with Claire Preston. Mom will be upset when I show up in sweatpants and a t-shirt, again. But I can’t find it in me to care today as I head out of the house with my truck keys.

The drive to my parents’ end of town takes twenty-eight minutes, the approximate length of one of my favorite astronomy podcasts. By the time I pull through the front gate, I feel more relaxed. Something about remembering how small I am in comparison to the universe takes an ounce of the ever-present weight off my shoulders.

I knock on the door to the house I grew up in, because even though I ran around these bushes and played on this lawn, this house is as stiff to me as the brick walls protecting it from intruders.

The only time it’s filled with happiness and laughter is when my nieces are around.

The ten-foot door swings open, a sharp contrast to my petite mother standing behind it. “There you are. I thought I told you to be here at seven.”

I glance down at my phone. “It’s 7:02.”

“And what on earth are you wearing? Don’t you care about your well-being anymore?” She tsks, shaking her head at the disappointment I am.

Things I’ve done wrong so far in life: join the military, not take over the family business, and wear sweatpants.

“Well, come on. You look awful, but it’s too late now.” She promptly turns and strides through the house.

I follow behind at my own pace, but my feet stop right where they always do. Next to the picture of my days from active duty. There are no other family photos on the walls in this area, just this shrine dedicated to my time in the service.

I didn’t do anyone a service over there. I wish my parents wouldn’t showcase it like it’s something to be proud of. All I see when I walk by are the faces of those we lost.

The soldiers—the friends—Ilost.

I shake my head, blinking away the pain that never ceases to find me in this spot. Chief Barns is wrong about the fear. It’s always with me because of what happened over there. In a split second, four people lost their lives and four families were left without loved ones.

There’s no good in that.

I raise my hand, whether to rip the photograph off the wall or try to reverse time, I’m not sure.

“Are you coming?” My mother’s voice finds me and I drop my fist. She waits for me at the end of the hall before continuing on to one of two sitting rooms. This one is reserved for more special guests, which means it’s a woman. Another one of my mom’s setups, no doubt.

“Ward, you remember Sophie? From high school?” My mother turns on me with a grin identical to the Cheshire Cat.

And right there in the middle of the room, wearing a pink sundress, is my ex.

I guess my mom finally caught on to mine and Caleb’s scheme and brought in the big guns. I couldn’t escape Sophie in high school, no matter how much I wanted to, which must be what my mother is hoping for again. All of the dates she lines up for me are with women who will look good on my arm at my parents’ events. A wife fit for the corporate world when I take over the family business and become a property developer like them. Sophie fits my mother’s idea of the perfect match. She is obsessed with her image and isn’t afraid to step on others to achieve perfection.

“How could I forget?” I say through tight lips, offering her a nod.

“Wow, the years have been good to you.” Sophie practically purrs, then blinks and looks at my mom. “I mean, that’s what your mom was just saying, right Claire?”

Funny, Mom didn’t tell me the same thing.

Sophie licks her bottom lip, and I know exactly what’s going through her mind. On the outside, she’s perfectly put together, the debutante every mother wants for their son, but whenever we were alone, she wouldn’t hesitate to stick her tongue down my throat.

I don’t mind a woman willing to take charge. I do mind a woman not letting me breathe.

“You look…well,” I say, scratching my chest. I’d like to leave now.

“Ward, invite her onto the patio for some iced tea, would you?” Mom says. Three words in and I’ve already screwed something up in my mother’s grand plan. I’ll have to work harder to screw it up more.

“Oh, I’d love to.” Sophie grabs my arm and drags me toward the back door.

My brain scrambles for excuses to get free. But the second we are out the door, a hand clenches my butt.

“Whoa.” I jump away from her, my eyes wide. Apparently, she hasn’t changed all that much.

“Oh, don’t be shy, Ward.” She takes a step closer. I back up. “I was thinking we could pick up where we left off.”