In the parking lot, Kyle is leaning against the hood of his car, texting on his phone. When he sees me approaching, he slides his phone into his pocket and pushes himself to meet me. A smile grows on his lips, but it doesn't last long. When he sees the odd expression that I'm wearing, tension immediately ripples through the muscles in his face and body.
He grasps my shoulders gently but worriedly. "Riley? What's wrong?"
I shake my head, but it's all that it takes to click in his head. "It's Taylor, isn't it?" he asks angrily. "What did he do to you? Did he hurt you?"
"He apologized," I say, but Kyle returns me with a look of disbelief. "Well, he sort of did, but his words didn't sit right."
He stares off into the distance, his dark, seething gaze searching the school grounds for his target. "Shall I punch him again? I'm dying to do it, hopefully a little harder this time."
I take his arm and tug him lightly towards the car door. "No, let's leave. I think I've seen enough drama for today."
He nods, easily giving in to my request. This is what I like about him—that underneath that tough demeanor, he's soft-hearted and respects my wishes. We get into the car and he starts the engine. I welcome the blast of cold air hitting my cheeks and neck because the weather outside is a little too warm for my liking.
As Kyle drives out of school, I gaze out of the window. Watching as shop houses and trees whizz by us in a blurry motion. Queues are forming outside the cafes, kids are skateboarding along the pavement and someone is playing a guitar on the street.
Apart from my earlier encounter, something else perturbs my mind. "About Taylor's scholarship–"
I'm cut off mid-sentence by Kyle as he drums his fingers on the driving wheel, frowning. "He told you about that?" he mulls thoughtfully. "I hope you aren't trying to persuade me to talk to Dad about that, because I'm not changing my mind. Not even if he gets to his knees and begs me."
So Taylor was right. He really did something about it. "No," I shake my head slowly. "I will not do that because I believe there are others out there who deserve the scholarship way more than he does. Instead, I'm just curious about something else that he has mentioned."
Kyle shoots me a curious sideway glance. "What is it?"
I pull my bottom lip between my teeth nervously. "About your family... You guys aren't part of the mafia, right?"
The car stops at a red light. He turns to stare at me for a long minute. The expression in his eyes is deadly serious. "What about it?"
I gasp. "Hang on a sec—I'm right?!"
"Is that going to be a problem?"
"No—yes!" I hold up a thumb and two fingers on both hands, mimicking guns. "You guys run around and carry these?"
He stares at me for two seconds before bursting out in laughter and ruffling my hair. "Oh Riley, why are you so adorably innocent? What have you been watching lately?"
Redness blooms across my cheeks. I realize that he's teasing me and I ramble nonsensically. "It's Uncle Dave's fault. He was watching this movie last night. The mafia did drug trading under the disguise of a freight forwarding company. I saw them pulling out guns and shooting at people," I gulp, not realizing that I'm babbling. "It was horribly gore with all the blood splattering—"
Kyle laughs harder. "Babe, my family isn't like that. We don't do those things. If you're thinking of men in black suits carrying suitcases of cash, maybe. But guns? We don't have those."
"Not even mafia tattoos?"
"We don't have that either. Do you want to see for yourself?"
Before I can protest, he's already lifting a shirt, giving me a glimpse of his glorious abs, and it takes everything in me to push his hand downwards to cover that delicious sight. "Stop making fun of me!"
He chuckles while I turn away, intent on looking out of the window. I lean back into my seat and listen to the soft music playing in the background. A yawn escapes me, one which I can't suppress.
I feel Kyle's curious gaze on me. "Tired?"
"A little," I say, rubbing my sleepy eyes. "I couldn't sleep last night."
Concern flickers across his features. "Why? What's wrong?"
I need to tell him about my father, but not like this. "I'll tell you at your house later. Can't have you ramming us into a pole if you can't keep your eyes off me."
He's curious and has more questions, but he holds his tongue. "I'll have to agree with you on that." His amused voice is husky and thick, sending my toes curling. "With you sitting beside me, it is hard to focus on the road."
I swat his arm playfully, unable to believe how my words have backfired on me, and now I'm the one getting all flustered here. "Shut up," I laugh just as a car horns behind us. "Now go—we are holding up traffic behind us."
A smile tugs at his lips. Thankfully, we arrive at his house without getting into an accident.
It's an eclectic blue, two-storey brick house with white frames and panels. After he parks the car in the garage, he shows me around the house. A stepping-stone pathway cuts through the grass and guides us towards the entrance. Small, cute shrubs outline the humble home. As we climb up the steps, I marvel at the hanging garden baskets of colorful flowers that hang from the porch ceiling. They're arranged beautifully; a mix of white pentas and dainty purple scaevolas.
I guess it's true when people say flowers can transform a place and brighten a person's mood. It definitely does to mine.
I point at them. "Did your mother make those?"
Kyle nods. "She changes them every week when she has some free time. Besides, she has too many flowers in the shop."
"They're beautiful." The flowers give his home a touch of class, and I can imagine Kyle's mother as a sophisticated woman. I wonder if she might hold some resentment towards me for ditching her son a year ago. Because I'm the reason he switched schools.
I run my hands down my plain blue top and jeans, wishing that I had dressed better. "Not gonna lie, but I'm nervous about meeting her."
He wraps his warm hand around mine and gives me a light squeeze. "You worry too much. I promise she won't bite, but she can be a little...overwhelming."
Nerves continue to somersault in my stomach. I let him lead me into the house. As we pull off our shoes, I hear approaching footsteps. A woman wearing a white dress and polka-dots apron peeks her head into the hallway from the kitchen. Locks of raven hair frames her dainty face. She's tall and beautiful, like a model with long limbs, and her large, emerald eyes were like his.
If I hadn't known she was his mother, I might have mistaken her for his older sister. That's how young she looks, despite her age. It's unbelievable and I wonder what kind of beauty products she is using.
"Riley!" She welcomes me by wrapping me in her embrace. "It's been a long time! How have you been? I heard about the accident and your...amnesia. Are you well?"
Her grip is firm. She's several inches taller than me and I'm trying my best not to be choked to death by both her embrace and perfume akin to roses. "I-I'm doing great, Mrs Evans."
"Please. You can call me Lily. You really can't remember me?"
I scratch my cheek awkwardly. "Y-yeah. Sorry."
Kyle watches our exchange with a deadpan expression. "Erm, Mom? Hi, I'm right here too."
"Oh! Sorry, sweetheart!" But she doesn't sound the least bit apologetic. "How was school?"
"Boring." He sniffs the air and scrunches up his nose. "You're cooking...lunch?"
"Yeah, I'm making cream pasta. Are you guys hungry?"
Kyle throws me a look, his lips pressed together as if he dreads the idea. He raises an eyebrow, trying to give me a warning about the lunch that his mother has prepared.
I spot my chance to earn some brownie points. "Do you need some help, Mrs Evans?"
"I'm fine, thank you! I'm actually done with cooking and just need to plate the food. Come on, guys." Lily shoos us into the kitchen like we're a pair of four-year-old toddlers. "Go wash your hands in the sink."
We do as she says. She serves us the food and gets us settled around the dining table. And it looks pretty good.
"It smells delicious," I tell her and she beams.
I don't know what Kyle is worried about. He's sniffing and poking at the cream pasta with a fork. His eyebrows pull together to form a worried frown. He stops being rude when I kick his leg under the table. After several long seconds, he stabs at the pasta, lifts his fork to his mouth and chews on it slowly.
"It's not bad, Mom. I think this might be the best thing you've cooked so far. And I'll give you bonus points for not destroying the kitchen today—"
She thwacks his shoulder once, and he clutches at it, pretending he's hurt. "I don't believe you." Turning her back on him, she gives me a bright smile. "Why don't you try it, Riley?"
I take a bite and slowly appraise the food. It's a lot creamier than I would have preferred and can be a little overbearing in the stomach. But because Lily is giving me that expectant look, I don't tell her the truth.
"It's perfect. I love it."
Her smile grows wider. "Do help yourself to more."
When she turns away to remove and hang her apron, Kyle is so impressed by my acting that his shoulders shake with laughter and I try to berate him by shooting him a stern, silent look. The moment his mother joins us at a table, he reverts to his calm self.
She's proudly sharing her recipe. I nod along until someone nudges my foot underneath the table and I lose focus.
Oh no, this can't be happening.
We're not playing footsie in front of his mother.
Kyle gives me a lazy smile, but I don't miss the glimmer of wicked amusement in his eyes. Even as I tuck my legs back, he stretches his long limbs and continues to prod my feet with his toes.
It's unfair how long those legs are.
He shares something with his mother. "Mom, Riley thinks that our family is a part of the mafia. How well would you do being the lady boss of such a group?"
My cheeks grow hot, but Lily laughs. "I'm not a pro at handling guns, but I can handle my saucepans well. I might have hit a thief once on the head before," she admits. When she sees my flabbergasted expression, she chuckles. "I'm joking, sweetie. Kyle, can you do me a favor? Can you run upstairs and grab my phone? I need to check in on the part timer that's manning the shop today."
When he leaves, a rather awkward silence lapses between us. As Lily sips her water and observes me quietly, I feel as if she wants to say something, but she doesn't. When the silence becomes unbearable, I blurt out the question that has been haunting my mind.
"Aren't you angry at me, Mrs Evans? After I left without a word?"
She surprises me with her answer. "No. Should I?"
When I don't answer, she carries on. "Look, I admit I was unimpressed when you disappeared, but I know you and Ava, and how sweet you both were. While my son was hanging out with you, I made friends with your mother. She was a single mother and I'm living away from my husband, so we kind of got along pretty well with each other. My husband often says I can be pretty overwhelming, but I think Ava was one of the few people who could match my energy. And to be honest, I don't believe she would pack up and leave Lakeshore without a good reason."
"Now, she's gone. We didn't get to say goodbye to each other. I can't imagine how hard it is for you, sweetie. You were the pride and joy in her life, and so is Kyle to me. I don't wish to be a controlling mother. I was a teenager once and I know the feeling of first love. If he wants to be with you, I won't object. But don't go breaking his heart twice, Riley." She places her hand on mine, giving me a tender smile. "At least promise me on that?"
I don't know what the future holds for us, but if one thing's certain in the present, I never want to lose what I have now again. I open my mouth to assure her, but my body freezes suddenly when an image flashes in my head like a bolt of lightning.
Kyle's mother and a familiar blonde woman sat in this very kitchen, chatting over turkey and drinks. A bunch of people I don't recognize swamped around the living room and front yard outside, so I assume it was a celebration — either a Thanksgiving or Christmas. Kyle and I were squabbling and wrestling with each other playfully in the living room when we accidentally knocked over one of the small potted plants which Lily treasured dearly in the corner.
As quietly as possible, we tried to clear up the mess on the floor, but somehow she noticed and began shrieking at us–
"Mom?" Kyle appears in the kitchen and snaps me out of my reverie. "Are you sure you left your phone upstairs? I can't seem to find it anywhere."
"Really?" Lily releases my hand and searches around the kitchen. She walks over to the wall and checks the pocket of her apron. "Sorry, I found it. I forgot I placed it in here."
When she smirks, that's when we both realize she has us fooled.