“That’s technically true,” Mom said.
From the living room, Taylor whispered loudly, “Should I leave?”
My panic spiked so hard I nearly knocked over the cookie box. Before I could move, Catherine answered. “No. You have to stay.” There was no hesitation in her voice.
I exhaled.
Taylor said, “Good, because I’m invested in the crab scene.”
Isla said, “We’re not there yet.”
Dad’s gaze sharpened. “Why would Taylor need to stay?”
“Dad.”
He went very still because I hadn’t called him Dad with this tone in many years. Mom’s expression softened immediately. He looked toward the living room, then back at me. His voice dropped even lower. “Hunter.”
I rubbed the back of my neck. “I’m seeing Catherine.”
Mom closed her eyes. Dad went completely silent.
“Your coach’s daughter?” His voice squeaked, which was never a good thing.
“Yes.”
Dad dragged a hand over his jaw. “Please tell me this is new.”
“New enough that we haven’t figured everything out,” I explained.
“Have you told Cole?”
“No.”
Dad looked like he had just bitten into something sour. “Hunter.”
“I know, Dad. This was unexpected and complicated,” I muttered. “Please keep your voices down because Isla doesn’t know either.”
“This is catastrophic, Hunter,” Dad said, and I winced.
“Oli,” Mom chided.
“How long have you known, Shorty?” Dad asked, using his odd nickname for Mom.
“Not long,” Mom muttered.
Dad hissed. “You don’t understand the gravity of what you’ve done because if you did, you would’ve talked to Cole before letting this get serious.”
I looked away. Dad went quiet again. Then, softer, he said, “It is serious?”
I didn’t answer. Mom’s eyes filled with tears, which was not helpful. He blew out a breath and looked toward the living room again, where Isla laughed at something Taylor said.
His expression shifted. “We’ll talk about this later,” he said.
“Okay.”
“You need to talk to Cole,” he emphasized. He was right, but I didn’t know how to do that when Catherine was hesitating.
I nodded. “It’s not only my decision.”