"I hope you enjoy this," Mom said as we all took a seat at a table in IHOP. I was starving after leaving the hospital. I refused to eat the offering of dry toast, powdered eggs, and link sausages that smelled vaguely reminiscent of dog food. Clay and I sat on the bench side, while Mr. Miller and my mother sat in the chairs opposite us. "Because you're grounded for skipping school, young man."

"What about Clay?" I asked, looking from my mother to my boyfriend.

"Clay is also grounded," Mr. Miller answered. "Nowhere but school and home for a week."

"Only one?" Mom asked. She clearly didn't believe that was enough. "I was thinking three."

My mother was not someone to be crossed.

"We thought one week was fair since he's not getting his car back," Mr. Miller said.

"Wait, what!" Clay's outburst garnered stares from a few of the other diners. "The accident wasn't even my fault."

"You broke our trust, son." Mr. Miller tapped his finger harshly against the tabletop. "You used the car to leave school without permission. End of story."

Clay huffed a sharp gust of air before pressing his lips into a tight line. The muscle in his jaw tightened as he gritted his teeth.

I laid my left hand on the bench between us, palm up. Clay took it, lacing his fingers between mine. His rigid mouth and hard eyes relaxed, glancing over to me. I smiled at him. One side of Clay's mouth lifted to offer me a tiny smile.

I turned to my mother. "I actually meant what about Clay and me? Our relationship. Are you not going to let us see each other?"

Clay's mouth and eyes went wide with shock. He obviously hadn't considered that. He looked at his father. "You're not gonna do that, are you, Dad?"

Mr. Miller seemed conflicted. "Honestly, your mother and I never thought of that. But we didn't let you see Dinah that time you got grounded for coming home after curfew."

"Yeah, but I still saw her at school every day," Clay fired back, lines of distress creasing his forehead. "Emmett and I go to different schools. If you don't let me see him at home, I won't see him at all."

The waitress appeared to take our drink order, temporarily halting the conversation. Once she'd gone, Mom glanced between us, then she looked at Mr. Miller. "If your wife agrees, I believe we might be able to set up some sort of supervised visitation."

Was this prison?

Still, any time with Clay was better than none. I would take whatever I could get.

Mr. Miller hummed with approval. "That actually sounds like a nice compromise. I'll talk to Laura tonight. We'll call you to hash it out."

Mom nodded. She picked up her menu, looking it over. "So, what's everyone having? I'm thinking crepes."

Clay and I shared a glance. We finally had each other. Now our parents were threatening to tear us apart.

Clay mouthed, "I love you."

I repeated the gesture, giving Clay's hand a squeeze.