A short silence fell. "Are you going to pack anything?"
If Colin insisted, I'd end up not having any choice.
My dad was an irresistible force. Colin, for all his laid-back attitude, was an immovable object. I'd end up squished in between—and staying with my family, whether I liked it or not.
I looked up at him, my fists clenched at my sides. "No.
I'm not." I managed to keep it from coming out as a question.
Colin went over to the little kitchen counter, picking up his machete from where he'd leaned it up. "Okay. I'm ready. I'm taking this, but I'll leave the beer. We'll need it to recover from dealing with your parents when we get back."
The heavy clench in my stomach unravelled. Not all the way, but enough that I didn't feel like I might throw up or start screaming.
Grabbing Colin in a bear hug and holding on tight would be weird, right?
"I knew there was a reason I kept you around," I said, my voice a little thick.
