The brown paper grocery bag nearly slipped from Mrs. Vale’s hands when Lily’s shout reached her.
She turned toward the living room, her gaze sweeping over the familiar, worn furniture until it landed on the young man rising from the sofa.
Her eyes widened.
For a moment, she simply stared, as though her mind refused to accept what she was seeing.
"Is that... Adrian?"
The groceries were forgotten. She hurried over, stopping right in front of him. Her hands trembled as she lifted them to his face, cupping his jaw and brushing her thumbs over his cheeks as if she needed to make sure he was real.
"Look at you! You’ve gotten so thin!" Her eyes moved over him from head to toe, searching for signs of trouble. "Have you been eating properly out there? Why didn’t you call before coming home, sweetheart? I would’ve had something nice waiting on the stove!"
Adrian swallowed, a lump forming in his throat.
"Mom, I..."
"Your father’s just outside trying to squeeze that old Honda into the curb." She patted his cheek affectionately before finally stepping back to get a proper look at him.
Adrian remained where he stood, unable to find the words he’d rehearsed during the long drive home. He’d prepared himself for tears, angry questions, perhaps even a cold reception. He’d imagined having to explain himself before he could even sit down.
He hadn’t prepared for this.
His mother’s immediate, unguarded affection was somehow harder to face than any accusation. After four years away, he didn’t know what to do with the simple fact that she’d welcomed him back as though he’d only been gone for a weekend.
His father, on the other hand, seemed to have a different idea of how their reunion should go.
The front door clicked shut.
Arthur Vale stepped into the foyer, his boots striking the floor with measured thuds. He glanced toward the living room from beneath his thick, graying eyebrows, his expression giving nothing away.
Without saying a word, he unbuttoned his coat and hung it on the wooden peg beside the entrance.
"Who’s the visitor?" he asked.
His dry voice carried easily through the room.
He walked over and extended his right hand toward Adrian, his expression as formal as that of a businessman meeting a stranger for the first time.
Adrian blinked before instinctively reaching out to shake it.
"Well, I..."
"That visitor happens to be my brother," Lily announced, popping her head around the archway. "And, technically, your firstborn son."
A flicker of exaggerated realization crossed their father’s face.
"Ah."
He gave Adrian’s hand a single, firm pump and nodded.
"How’s it going, chap? Finally remembered the coordinates to the old barn, did you?"
Before Adrian could come up with a response, Old Vale released his hand, turned on his heel, and headed down the hallway toward the master bedroom.
Adrian watched him disappear.
’Four years without a word, and this is what I get? A greeting fit for a distant cousin dropping off the mail?’
He almost laughed.
Then he remembered the slight tremor in his father’s fingers when they’d shaken hands.
That tiny detail gave him pause.
Fathers have never been good at expressing their feelings, especially Old Vale.
He’d always preferred to bury them beneath dry remarks and an impenetrable exterior. Perhaps this was simply his way of keeping four years’ worth of emotions from spilling out in front of everyone.
"Sweetheart, I’m making tuna rice tonight! Your absolute favorite!" his mother called from the kitchen.
She was already tying an apron around her waist, apparently having decided that the best way to welcome her son home was to feed him until he could barely move.
Adrian opened his mouth to offer a hand, but before he could speak, the front door rattled again.
A tall, broad-shouldered young man stepped inside, dressed in athletic joggers and a zip-up windbreaker. His tousled dreadlocks were damp with sweat, and his heavy breathing suggested he’d just finished an exhausting workout.
He barely had time to close the door before his dark eyes landed on Adrian.
The fatigue vanished from his face.
"Adrian?! Yo! Bro, it’s been a damn lifetime!"
"Kobe!"
Adrian burst out laughing and stepped forward, pulling his cousin into a solid half-hug.
"Man, you look like you got dragged behind a city bus."
"Felt like it, too!"
Kobe dropped onto the sofa with a groan, stretching his legs out in front of him.
"This tournament is a bloodbath, man. We clawed our way into the quarterfinals today, but every team out there is playing like their rent’s due tomorrow. I’m telling you, these guys are serious dogs on the court."
He leaned back, then narrowed his eyes as he examined Adrian from head to toe.
A moment later, he sucked his teeth dramatically.
"Not gonna lie, though. I’m not entirely sold on the new haircut, big bro. But hey, we can’t all have my runway genetics."
Adrian scoffed, his hand curling into a fist.
"You little punk. Want me to put you in a headlock and give you an old-school noogie right in front of everyone?"
"Mercy, please!"
Kobe grabbed his dreadlocks with both hands and shrank into the cushions, putting on an expression of exaggerated horror.
"Anything but the noogie! I’m an athlete, bro. Protect the merchandise!"
Their laughter filled the living room, spilling over the coffee table and into the hallway.
Just like that, something inside Adrian loosened.
The awkwardness of returning home after four years began to fade, replaced by a familiarity he’d almost forgotten. With Kobe sitting beside him, it felt as though he’d been transported back to those endless summer afternoons when they’d played basketball until the streetlights came on, argued over questionable fouls, and refused to go home until one of them admitted defeat.
For a little while, it was as if nothing had changed.
Lily leaned against the kitchen doorway, watching them with an amused smile.
"Well, looks like the boys’ club is officially in session. I’ll leave you two to relive your glory days while I help Mom chop onions."
She waved before disappearing into the kitchen.
Adrian followed her with his eyes, a quiet warmth settling in his chest.
Kobe might have been his cousin by blood, but that distinction had never meant much to them. After everything Aunt Julie had been through, the three of them had grown up more like siblings than cousins.
He turned back to the sweat-drenched athlete and bumped his shoulder.
"So, talk to me. You’re still chasing the league?"
"Closer than ever, honestly. I can feel it."
Kobe’s grin remained, but something more serious entered his eyes. His usual playful demeanor gave way to the determination Adrian remembered from their childhood.
"Word on the grapevine is that an official regional scout will be sitting courtside for the finals this weekend. If my team makes it to Sunday, I might finally get an invite to the combine."
His voice burned with conviction.
Adrian could picture Kobe as a kid, playing through scraped knees and torrential rain without a single complaint. Even when everyone else had given up, Kobe had always insisted on one more game, one more shot, one more chance to prove himself.
Talent had never been his problem. He’d possessed more natural ability than most of the people they’d played against, and he’d worked hard enough to make that talent count.
If anyone could fight their way into professional basketball, it was the young man sitting beside him.
"You’re getting that call," Adrian said firmly. "And when you make it big, I expect courtside tickets. None of that making me watch from the nosebleeds nonsense."
"Count on it, bro!"
Kobe beamed before tilting his head, his attention shifting to Adrian’s designer polo and immaculate appearance.
"Enough about my hustle, though. Look at you. You disappeared into the big city and didn’t look back. Tell me you made the bag."
Adrian scratched his cheek and gave an awkward chuckle.
"Heh. Let’s just say city life has a way of humbling a guy."
"Man, quit playing humble!"
Kobe jabbed him in the ribs.
"Look at those shoes! That watch! Your whole outfit screams tailored money, and you’re sitting here looking like some corporate executive. Don’t tell me you went out there and struck gold."
A smirk crept across Adrian’s face.
"Well, I try not to advertise it, but..."
He slipped a hand into his trouser pocket and pulled out the heavy Ferrari key fob. Hooking his index finger through the loop, he gave it a lazy twirl, letting the afternoon sunlight glint off its metallic surface.
"You notice that silver rocket parked outside?"
Kobe’s eyes widened.
He whipped his head toward the front window so quickly that Adrian wondered whether he’d pulled something.
Beyond the glass, the Ferrari’s sleek contours gleamed in the afternoon light.
"Bro... no way."
Kobe shot to his feet and grabbed Adrian’s shoulder.
"That’s yours?! Are you serious right now? What kind of corporate ladder did you climb? Bro, whatever industry you’re in, you’re putting me on the payroll tomorrow!"
Adrian let out a nervous chuckle.
’Here we go.’
How was he supposed to explain this?
If he told them he’d made millions gambling, his parents would probably drag him straight to a psychiatrist. And if he tried explaining that some mysterious, almost divine system had been showering him with cash and corporate equity every time he placed a wager, they’d likely have him strapped to a gurney before nightfall.
He could already imagine the looks on their faces.
"Adrian?"
His mother’s voice cut through his thoughts.
Something in her tone made his smile falter.
He turned toward the kitchen.
She stood frozen in the doorway, a paring knife loosely held in one hand and a dishtowel in the other. Her gaze shifted from the Ferrari keys dangling between his fingers to the silver sports car visible through the front window.
The color slowly drained from her face.
"Did you just say you own that sports car outside?"
The room fell silent.
Even Kobe seemed to sense that the conversation had taken a dangerous turn. His hand slipped from Adrian’s shoulder as he glanced between his cousin and his aunt.
Mrs. Vale took a small step forward, still staring at the keys.
"Where on earth," she asked, her voice dropping into a trembling whisper, "did you get that kind of money?"