He’s right. I took my anger out on the field and if I hadn’t gotten hurt, I might have injured someone.
“Are we going to be okay?” I’m not sure I want to hear the answer. Evan might be done with me.
“We’re fine. I missed you. I’m glad you came over.”
“Me, too. I should have come sooner.”
TWENTY-THREE
EVAN
Nervous does not begin to describe what I feel as I pull up in front of Isaac’s house Saturday evening. His family arrived yesterday, and he spent the day with them. Tonight, Isaac invited me over for a cookout and to meet them.
He warned me they are loud and boisterous when they all get together, but I didn’t expect to be able to hear them when I got out of the car. Music and loud voices fill the air as I walk to the front door. Before I can knock, the door swings open and I’m greeted by a tall, beautiful woman with dark features, black hair, and the same brown eyes as Isaac.
“You must be Evan!” she gushes.
“Yes.”
“I’m Gloria. Isaac’s mother.”
“It’s nice to meet you,” I say, offering her my hand.
She ignores my hand and pulls me in for a hug instead. “We hug in this family. It’s nice to meet you.”
Releasing me, she takes the bag I’m holding and leads me to the kitchen where a man about her age is walking in fromthe backyard. Beyond him, I see Isaac and a slightly younger version of him on the patio.
“Jose, this is Evan. Evan, this is Isaac’s father, Jose.”
“It’s nice to meet you, young man,” Jose says, grabbing me for his own hug. I reluctantly hug him back. This is not like meeting my folks. I doubt there will be any hugging involved. My parents are more formal about greetings. I think I like this way better. I already feel a thousand times more relaxed than when I got out of the car.
Jose goes to the stove and stirs something. Isaac looks like his dad with the exception of having his mom’s eyes. Jose is shorter than Isaac, but only by an inch or two. He has brown hair and an olive skin-tone that matches Isaac’s. He’s very handsome and looks younger than his fifty-three years.
Remembering the bag Gloria took from me, I turn to see that she left it on the counter. I pull out the bottle of bourbon and a set of six glasses I bought at Olde Derby Distillery the last time I visited. I bought eight, so I decided to share the bottle with Isaac’s family and give each of them a glass to take home. That will leave Isaac and I with a set of four. I’m not even sure they like bourbon. Maybe this was a bad idea. What was I thinking? I should have asked Isaac before making a decision like this.
I jump when two strong arms wrap around me.
“Hey,” Isaac whispers, concern lacing his voice. He turns me toward him and kisses me quickly. I relax a little. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” I smile and wave him off. The look he gives me tells me he’s not buying it. “I brought a bottle of bourbon to share and a glass from my favorite distillery for everyone to take home. I was second guessing myself and now I’m wondering if I made a mistake,” I whisper close to his ear so only he can hear me.
“That was a brilliant idea. My family will appreciate the gift.”
“Are you sure?”
Isaac leans his head back enough to look me in the eye, but never lets go of my waist. “I’m positive.” He kisses me softly and I open my mouth, melting into him as our tongues collide.
A gagging sound and the words “Get a room.” From the other side of the kitchen have me pulling away from Isaac as embarrassment heats my face. I can’t believe we did that in front of his family.
Isaac flips his brother off and barks, “Bite me, Aiden.”
“Nope. That’s Evan’s job.”
Apparently, I wasn’t embarrassed enough. I can’t imagine how many shades of red I’m turning.
“Enough, Aiden.” Jose snaps, but there’s humor in his eyes. They are all enjoying this a little too much.
“We’re back, Uncle Isaac,” a small voice calls as the front door closes, and two precious little girls rush into the kitchen and into Isaac’s waiting arms. He hugs them both then looks at me and says, “Evan, these are my nieces, Katie and Kennedy.”