Extra Credit: Three Ivy Years Novellas (The Ivy Years Book 6)

IT’S BEEN ALMOST SEVEN YEARS SINCE JOHN RIKKER LEFT MICHIGAN.

That ought to be long enough to scar over all the wounds the place left on him. Shouldn’t it?

When Rikker returns to the scene of the crime, he finds surviving a week with his parents to be harder than he’d guessed.

And Graham can’t stand by and let him handle it alone…

YOUR RESERVATION NUMBER IS 87XTY442.

I close my laptop and grab my phone. Then I jog down the stairs of my grandmother’s house and out the front door, because it’s a beautiful day for December, and the cell phone reception is always better outside.

Gran is sitting in a rocker on the porch with a down comforter over her lap, reading glasses perched on her nose, and a paperback mystery novel in her good hand. She glances up as I fly past. “Where’s the fire?”

“Sorry.” I chuckle, skidding to a halt. “Just made my travel arrangements for the day after Christmas, and I’m going to call Graham and tell him.”

She gives me a nod. “You tell that hunk hello for me.”

“I will.”

“And when you’re off the phone, it will be time for cookies and hot chocolate.”

“It’s always time for cookies and hot chocolate. Back in five, and I’ll grab it for us.”

Smiling, she goes back to her book.

These days, the cookies we eat come from the bakery in town. Gran’s dexterity isn’t what it used to be, and she doesn’t bake very often anymore. The stroke she suffered eight months ago has slowed her down some.

Still, after months of therapy, she’s recovered much of her independence. Last summer I hadn’t wanted to leave her alone for any amount of time, but now she’s doing much better.

I walk a few paces down the driveway and touch Graham’s number on my phone. “Hey, babe,” I say when he picks up.

“Hey.”

That’s his standard greeting when we speak on the phone. But his voice is husky, and I don’t need more than that one word to know how badly he misses me. His “hey” is weighty, conveying the gravity of the situation: we haven’t seen each other since winter break started a week ago.

But relief is on the horizon. “I just bought a plane ticket,” I tell him.

“Yeah?” That’s Grahamspeak for hot damn. My boyfriend is understated, but I love him anyway.

“Sure did. I’m flying into Grand Rapids on Sunday. Flying out of Chicago the following Sunday.”

“How much of that time do I get?”

“That all depends on whether you’re coming to Chicago with me. I can bring a plus-one to this wedding. You won’t have to wear a suit, either. Just a jacket.” Please come with me, I privately beg.

There’s a beat of silence on his end. “You sure I won’t be in the way?”

“Not a chance. Does that mean you’ll come?”

“Of course I will.”

“Yeah?” I grin like an idiot. “Full disclosure—Skippy’s wedding will probably feature sequins and glitter and cheesy music.”

“Whatever, I don’t care,” he says firmly. “There’ll be a hotel room in Chicago, right?”

“Hell yes.”

“That’s plenty of incentive.”

“Good point,” I say lightly. If Graham is willing to accompany me to my ex-boyfriend’s wedding, this whole trip just became a lot more fun.

“Can I pick you up at the airport on Sunday?” Graham asks.

“I was hoping you would. My flight arrives a few minutes before noon.”

“Your parents will still be at church, anyway.”

“Yeah, I did that on purpose.” My visit to Michigan has been scheduled to conveniently sidestep Sunday morning. “I just couldn’t see myself walking in that church with them, pretending I’m not still pissed off at the pastor for counseling my mother all these years. I can’t shake that man’s hand and make nice.”

Graham makes a low noise of disgust. “You don’t have to visit your parents at all, you know. Come to Michigan and stay with us the whole time.”

“I wish. But my dad’s been campaigning for this visit since April. I blew him off over the summer. And it’s just a few days, right? I can grit my teeth for that long.”

“Shouldn’t have to grit ’em at all,” Graham points out. “But when it’s over, I’ll give you a reward for your patience.”

“Yeah? Tell me more.”

“Can’t right now,” he mutters. I hear voices in the background. “Call me tonight.”

“You can bet on it. Miss you.”

“Back atcha, hottie.”

I hang up smiling. Graham will be my reward for suffering through a few days with my parents. He’s my happy thought.