Boomerang Boyfriend (The Boyfriend Chronicles) Read online

  I made a pit stop at home for a shower and then headed to a bonfire at Trevor’s house. After his older brother had OD’d a few years ago, his parents liked to know where he was at all times. Sometimes it sucked, but it also meant they always had good food, the coolest video games, and the latest movies. Tonight it was supposed to be all-you-could-eat pizza and breadsticks. After working with burgers all day, pizza sounded good.

  There were a dozen cars lining the side of Trevor’s driveway when I pulled up. The good thing about living in the middle of nowhere is you could park your car wherever you want. No need to find a skinny spot between two yellow lines. As long as you didn’t mess up someone’s landscaping or garden, you were golden.

  I parked behind the last car and walked up the gravel drive toward the bonfire I could see out back. The scent of wood smoke filled the air. It smelled like fall. I loved this time of year. It always seemed like a fresh beginning. We were a few months into the school year, and Thanksgiving break was just around the corner.

  “Jack.” Trevor waved at me from his seat on the split-log bench we’d made this past summer.

  “Hey, how’s it going?” I asked.

  “Pretty good.” He leaned back on his elbows and then nodded to the right. “See for yourself.”

  Two girls I didn’t recognize were standing close together. One was a tall blonde with blue streaks in her hair, and the other one was short with long black hair. “That’s my cousin Sadie and her girlfriend Emma. They’re home from college for the weekend, and they came to visit.”

  Did he mean they were friends or that they were a couple? Sadie laughed and put her arm around Emma’s waist, sliding her hand into the back pocket of Emma’s jeans. That answered that question.

  Trevor leaned forward and spoke in a quiet voice. “Dude. I know she’s my cousin, but that’s hot.”

  He wasn’t wrong, but I wasn’t going to agree with him. “Pervert. Where’s the pizza?” Something warm and furry came and leaned against my right leg. I reached down to pet Rocky, a black lab who was going gray around his eyes and muzzle. “Rocky wants to know where the pizza is, too.”

  “He’s the reason the food is in the kitchen. Last time we kept it out here on the picnic table, he helped himself to half of a large bacon pepperoni pizza, and then he threw up in my mom’s closet. She was cleaning dog barf out of her shoes for days.”

  I squatted down and rubbed Rocky’s ears. “I bet you were framed, huh, buddy?” He leaned into the ear rub and sighed. “I bet it was the cat, wasn’t it?” He sighed again like he was agreeing with me.

  “Nice try, but there isn’t that much barf in a cat,” Trevor said.

  “I believe you.” I patted Rocky on the head. “Come on. I’ll share some pepperoni with you.”

  “My mom will kick your ass,” Trevor called after me.

  “What she doesn’t see won’t hurt me,” I called back.

  The pizza was on the kitchen table, and it was being guarded by Trevor’s dad.

  “Hey, Jack.” His dad always seemed happy to see me, which was nice.

  “Hey Mr. Thompson.”

  “We’ve got pepperoni, vegetarian, or sausage.” He pointed at the different boxes.

  Rocky walked up, laid his head on the table, and whined.

  “No,” Trevor’s dad said. “Not after the mess you made last weekend.”

  In the time it took me to load up my plate, a small puddle of drool had formed around Rocky’s head. “Can’t he have a little bit?” I pointed at the ever-growing puddle of drool. “Because that’s sad.”

  His dad glanced around. “You can give him the crust, if no one sees you, but nothing spicy.”

  “Come on, Rocky. Let’s go back outside.” I pulled a lawn chair over by Trevor. Rocky watched me take every bite. I gave him a few pieces of crust, which he swallowed without stopping to chew. “Rocky says you never feed him.”

  “He’s lying,” Trevor said. “We fill his bowl three times a day.”

  “With dog food. That’s not the same as pizza.” I snuck Rocky a pepperoni that had fallen on the armrest of my lawn chair.

  “I saw that, Jack Cain.” Trevor’s mom came up from behind me.

  “It was one pepperoni.” I argued my case.

  “If he pukes, you’re cleaning it up.” She didn’t sound mad. Once she rounded my chair where I could see her face, I saw that she was smiling. “How’s your mom?”

  My shoulders tensed. “She’s okay.”

  “I saw her at the grocery store. She seems to be doing better.”

  I nodded. “She is.”

  “Good. Tell her I said hello, and she should call me if she wants to go have lunch some time.”

  “I’ll do that.” My mom had practically become a shut-in after my dad and grandpa had died. The only thing she had done was go to work and come home. She hadn’t really talked to any of us. She hadn’t eaten unless we’d reminded her. It had almost been like she’d died, too, but her body still walked around. Sometimes, when I’d tried to talk to her, she’d stared at me like she had no idea who I was. It had been terrifying. I had thought we’d lose her, too. Lately, though, she did seem to be tuned-in more to what was going on around her. She talked to us about our lives, and she’d started shopping, cooking, and eating again, so she no longer looked skeletal. I doubted she’d want to go to lunch with Trevor’s mom, since she and my dad used to hang out with them as a couple, but maybe she’d be interested.

  Chapter Three

  Delia

  Sunday afternoon, I sat sketching on the couch in the living room while Bob Ross painted happy little trees on the television, courtesy of Netflix. There was something about that guy’s voice and his boundless optimism that always made me feel happy and relaxed.

  My cell buzzed on the coffee table. Zoe’s name popped on the screen. I grabbed it. “Hey, what’s up?”

  “My mom wants to have a girl’s day at the nail salon. She asked if you wanted to come with us.” Zoe sounded like she was super-excited but trying to play it cool.

  We hadn’t done anything like that in ages. For her mom to want to go out and be social, even if it was just with us, was a big deal. “Woo-hoo! I’m in.”

  “Cool. I’ll see you later.”

  I heard the front door open, and my mom came in wearing her Winnie the Pooh scrubs.

  “Hey, Mom.”

  “Hey, yourself.” She yawned. “How was Betty’s?”

  “Good. I know what your answer will be since you’re probably going to eat and then do a face plant on your bed, but you’re invited to girls’ day out for a manicure, if you want to come.”

  “Ask me again when I’m working days. I ate a protein bar in the car on the way home, so I’m going to pass out now.”

  “Good night.”

  “Night, sweetie. Hopefully, I’ll be on days next week, and we’ll do some girly bonding thing then, okay?”

  I nodded.

  My mom headed upstairs. I heard the white noise machine go on. It sounded like an industrial size fan that could suck the furniture out a window, but it was the only way my mom could sleep when she worked nights.

  My mom was a phlebotomist who drove all over creation drawing people’s blood. Sort of a transient medical vampire. My dad was a lab tech, which meant they both worked odd shifts. One of my major goals in life was to have a normal daytime job that had nothing to do with blood or any other bodily fluid and allowed me to eat dinner with my family.

  Zoe, or I should say Francine, rolled into my driveway a few hours later. Francine was looking ultra-feminine with her headlight eyelashes. I climbed into the backseat. “I love Francine’s new look.”

  “Thanks,” Zoe said. “My mom saw them online and ordered them for me.”

  “Very cool.” I smiled at Zoe’s grandma, who sat next to me. She reached over and squeezed my hand, knowing I understood what a huge step this was.

  “How was your first night as Pie Princess?” her grandma asked.

  �
��It wasn’t bad. The people were mostly nice, but when it was slow, it was boring.”

  “Most jobs are like that,” her grandmother said.

  “When Zoe and I open our bakery boutique, we’ll never be bored, because we can always talk to each other.”

  “You two should come work my booth with me at the Christmas Flea Market. Zoe can sell cookies, and you can sell hand-crafted Christmas cards or ornaments.”

  “That might be fun.”

  At the salon, I picked out a hot pink glitter polish with silver flecks. “It will match my tiara.” I showed Zoe.

  “You realize you can’t wear the tiara all the time,” Zoe teased.

  “I could, but I choose not to because I don’t want everyone to be jealous.”

  Zoe held up a bottle of polish that was blue with silver flakes. “I’m going with Silver Sky,” Zoe said. “Because it matches Francine’s paint.”

  “I don’t know how you can wear those blue and green colors,” her grandmother said. “They don’t work on me.” She picked out fire engine red. “I’ll stick with the classics.”

  “I like this one.” Her mom held up a pale pink that shimmered in the light. Funny how that seemed to sum up their personalities… Zoe’s grandmother was outrageous, just like her, while her mom was more reserved.

  Once our nails were dry, Zoe’s grandmother paid for all of us.

  “I can pay for mine,” I said.

  “Nonsense, you’re family.”

  “Thanks.” I’d been around Zoe’s family for so long they felt like they were mine. They were home way more often than mine, too. I knew I should be grateful my parents had jobs, but I could never depend on them being there for me due to their ever-changing shifts. Sometimes it sucked.

  After our manicures, we went to the Thompson’s Apple Orchard to pick fresh apples. I was reaching up into a tree to snag a golden delicious when a guy said, “Where’s your tiara?”

  I knew that voice. “Aiden?” I turned to see that I’d heard correctly. “What are you doing here?” This wasn’t a place I expected to run into him. Outdoorsy, he was not.

  “My mother’s buying apple strudel. I spotted you, so I came over to say hello.”

  His phone buzzed. He checked it and laughed. “My mom’s text says she’s wearing nice shoes and she’s not going to come looking for me in the wet grass so I should meet her at the car.”

  “Now I know where you get it from,” I teased.

  “Please. Compared to my father, my mother is practically a flower child.” He reached out and touched the pink stripe of hair by my right cheekbone. “I’d love to introduce you to him just to see what he’d say about your hair. I better go. See you tomorrow.”

  “See you.”

  Zoe bounded over. “Time to share.”

  I repeated the conversation. “Doesn’t that make it sound like he thinks I might meet his parents one day? Like we’re dating or something?”

  “It does.” Zoe scrunched up her face like a strange thought occurred to her. “Do you think he thinks you’re dating?”

  I counted items off on my fingers. “He’s happy to see me. He goes out of his way to speak with me. He touches my face. And he mentioned me meeting his parents. What does that add up to?”

  Zoe reached up and grabbed an apple, twisted it, and plucked it off the branch. “I think it adds up to you asking him what’s going on.”

  If I have to ask, then it probably isn’t what I want it to be. I flailed in frustration. “Why are males so difficult?”

  “I don’t know,” Zoe said. “You could ask Jack.”

  “No thanks. It’s not like he counts as a real guy.”

  “I’m pretty sure he’d be offended by that statement,” Zoe said.

  “You know what I mean. He’s a guy, but he’s not datable.” I laughed. “Then again, at this point, the odds of me dating Jack might be higher than figuring out what’s going on with Aiden.”

  …

  Jack

  I took one more ride around the edge of the front yard on the lawn mower to pick up the last of the leaves that had fallen off the trees. This was one chore I didn’t mind. I loved the smell of the fresh-cut grass, and no one talked to me while I worked or tried to tell me how I should do something. It was kind of cathartic riding the mower back and forth in nice straight lines, watching the machine suck up the leaves, mulch them, and spit them out the back like fall confetti.

  When I finished, I drove the John Deer mower into the shed out back and then surveyed the yard. There was something satisfying about seeing the checkerboard pattern I’d cut into the grass. There were only so many things under my control in this life, and the grass was one of them. My mom, grandma, and sister had all taken off for a girl’s day, which meant I had the house to myself. That was rare these days, and since I was outnumbered three to one, it was nice not to be surrounded by females for a little while. A familiar ache throbbed in my chest. My dad, grandpa, and I used to play horseshoes or stand around the grill on the back patio on Sundays. I missed that. My mom and grandma made an effort to include me in whatever they did, but it wasn’t the same as having other guys to hang around with.

  Whatever. I had the house to myself for a bit, so after a quick shower, I was going to eat something and watch football. I’d just turned on the television when I heard a car coming down the drive. A quick check out the window showed it was Zoe’s SUV. Damn. I thought they’d be gone longer.

  Sinking low on the couch, I put my feet on the coffee table and turned up the game. The door burst open, and the first person inside was Delia.

  “Whoa,” Delia said. “Do you think you have the television on loud enough?”

  Just to annoy her, I clicked the volume up a few notches.

  “Very mature,” Delia yelled.

  I grinned and turned the television back down.

  “Jack,” my grandmother said as she came in carrying a bag of apples, “we’re going to bake pies if you want to help.”

  Why would I want to bake pies? “No thanks.”

  My mom came over and sat down by me. She took the remote from my hand and hit mute. “Thanks for taking care of the leaves. The yard looks great.”

  “No problem.” Loud laughter echoed from the kitchen. “I think that’s my cue to leave.”

  “You don’t have to go. I can quiet the girls down.”

  “Can you make Delia leave?” I asked.

  She frowned. “I don’t know why you two are always at odds.”

  “I have one annoying little sister,” I said. “I don’t need another one.” My cell rang. Trevor’s name popped up on the screen. “Hey, what’s up?”

  “We’re going to barbecue and play horseshoes. Want to come over?”

  “Sure.” Saved by the cell. I stood up and headed for the front door. “I’m going to Trevor’s. See you later.”

  Rocky bounded up to me as soon as I stepped out of my car. “Hey there, buddy. What’s up?” He leaned against my leg and looked up at me with adoration as I scratched under his chin. “Who’s a good boy?”

  His tail thumped against the gravel, sending up a spray of dust. Why couldn’t people be as easy as dogs?

  He trotted beside me as I walked out back. Trevor’s dad was just lighting the grill, which meant the food wouldn’t be ready for a while. Good. I could hang out here for the afternoon, and hopefully, the house would be Delia-free and quiet by the time I went home.

  “So how are things going with the new Pie Princess?” Trevor asked.

  I grabbed a can of soda from the cooler, popped the top, and took a drink. “Work was the one place that was mine. No Zoe, no Delia, just my life. It feels like she invaded my territory.”

  “I’ve always thought she was cute. Not my type, with the crazy hair and all, but fun to look at.”

  “I think the hair is a warning about her personality,” I said.

  “You’re still mad about her putting Nair in your shampoo bottle, aren’t you?”

  “
Who wouldn’t be? I lost my hair and my eyebrows.” I’d never been so mad about anything in my life.

  “You’re the one who nuked their lemonade stand by telling people you peed in the lemonade.” Trevor reminded me like he was some sort of lawyer.

  “As a joke. It’s not my fault people are stupid and believed it.”

  Trevor shrugged. “I’m just saying…it’s not like Delia and your sister pulled a prank on you for no reason. And it’s been what…seven years since that happened? I think you need to let it go.”

  Chapter Four

  Delia

  Monday morning came way too early. I was grateful for the blue-and-green plaid Wilton school uniform because it took much less effort than putting together an outfit on my own.

  As I drove to school, I tried to figure out what was going on with Aiden. Maybe I was expecting too much. My mom told me no guy was perfect. The best you could do was find a guy who made you happy 70 percent of the time. When I asked about the other 30 percent, she told me that was the percentage of time you wanted to hit him in the head with a frying pan.

  Aiden and I had started hanging out since our best friends were dating. Now he always seemed to be wherever I went. In the plus column, he was always happy to see me. Maybe I should straight up ask him what was going on, but given his shy-boy personality, that type of pressure might make him cut and run.

  I pulled into the Wilton School parking lot and parked in the first available space. As I crossed the asphalt, the crisp fall air made me smile. The campus looked like one of those Ivy League colleges you see in movies. The buildings were made of old brick and blocks of granite. There was even a Big Ben-type clock in the middle of a grassy quad.

  Zoe waved at me from our normal spot next to the clock. Of course, Aiden and Grant were there, too.

  Aiden took one look at me and said, “Did playing Pie Princess all weekend wear you out?”

  What did he mean? I crossed my arms over my chest. “Are you implying I look bad this morning?”