128. Rosalyn

ONE HUNDRED TWENTY-EIGHT

ROSALYN

My knee is bouncing as Nathan parks his SUV in the lot behind the restaurant we're meeting his parents at.

His. Parents.

My knee bounces faster.

Nathan tried to drop me off at the front door—since I decided to leave my crutches at home—but I refused.

I'd rather walk barefoot through a marathon than risk possibly having to make small talk with his parents alone.

Not that I expect Nathan's parents to be anything but pleasant. But for me… this dinner is going to be stressful enough. I don't need it to start any earlier than possible.

Nathan turns the ignition off and places his palm on my knee. "Stop worrying. They know you're coming. They know you're the girl from down the street. They're excited to see you." He tries to comfort me. "It will be totally fine."

I nod faster than I should. "Okay."

"Wait for me," he says and pushes out of his door.

The command is hardly necessary. I'm going to need help unlocking my seat belt because my fingers are shaking so hard. Because everything Nathan just said, hoping to calm me down, is the exact reason I'm freaking out in the first place.

I don't want them to remember me from that cursed street.

I don't want to talk about them moving away and leaving me behind.

I don't want to answer questions about my past.

My door opens, and Nathan reaches across me to unbuckle me. "You look beautiful, Beautiful. Now, come on, let's eat some food."