Page 29 of We Can Forever

I duck my head, suddenly realizing just how I’ve put her on the spot. By asking about Hannah, I’ve inadvertently brought up Maya’s own chronic condition—whatever that may be. And perhaps she doesn’t want anyone to even know about it.

When I look up, though, she’s smiling. “That’s amazing.”

“Really?” My voice pitches.

“Yes. Have a seat.” She pulls a chair over to her desk. “I don’t know how much Hannah has told you…”

“Just that she has fibromyalgia. I’ve read some online, but I wanted to get advice from, uh, someone who really knows.”

Again, thank God, she doesn’t seem put off. “Okay, so warmth is key. So is food. It’s hard to have the energy to do anything if your physical needs aren’t met.”

From my pocket, I take out the pen and small notebook I brought along and jot down notes. “Great. What else?”

“No physically taxing activities.”

“What would be considered taxing?” I ask, already afraid I’ll screw that up. As of last night, I wouldn’t have considered mini golf taxing for anyone who can walk.

Maya lays it all out on the table, giving me more tips than I was even prepared for. By the time I need to leave her room to pick up Katie from the front of the school, and after I’ve thanked Maya maybe a dozen times, I finally feel equipped to meet Hannah’s needs.

“Dad!” Spotting me come out of the school, Katie runs up. “Can we go to the bookstore? There’s a new comic I want.”

I consider our to-do list, filled with dinner, chores, and her bedtime routine. “Sure. We can drop by for a few minutes. Let’s go.” Maybe they will have a book on fibromyalgia.

“Yes!” She bounces up and down as we walk to the truck.

“How was your day?”

“Good,” she says, clambering into her seat and buckling up. “How was yours?”

“Great, and getting even better.” I catch my reflection in the rearview mirror. My grin wide, I look like someone I don’t recognize. A new man.

And maybe I’m exactly that.

Chapter Eleven

HANNAH

The streetlights pop on up and down my block, and the German shepherd across the street barks in excitement at his owner coming home from work. It’s another calm evening in another small town on a small island.

Standing up from my swinging bench, I walk across the porch, my stomach twisting. When I moved to Pine Island, the only dream I had involved my shop. I didn’t let myself think too much about fitting into a community or finding love. And now…

Taking a deep breath, I lean against the railing, my heart racing from both anxiety and excitement. Two days of not seeing Michael feel like a lot, but even though I managed to avoid a flare the other night, I’m still on edge.

He’s shown how caring he is, how attentive. And yet, I’m still afraid.

Maybe it’s because I’m not used to things going this well and a part of me is always on edge, waiting for this new relationship to crash and burn.

Headlights slice across my yard, and Michael’s truck pulls into the driveway. My stomach just about climbs up my throat, and I tug on my sweater and smooth my hair, not sure what to do with myself.

He steps out of his truck, a hunky specimen of a man, his long legs eating up the distance between the driveway and me.

It’s not until he’s on my bottom step that he finally speaks. “Hi.”

“Hello,” I squeak. “How are you?”

“Great, now that I’m here.” The way he says it, it doesn’t sound like a line. It sounds like the words he’s been holding in all day, just waiting for the moment when he can finally release them to the universe.

Taking my hand, he leads me to his truck. I suppose I walk, but I don’t remember even taking one step. Everything is hazy with my fingers around his, and the next thing I know, we’re driving out of town.

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