Page 55 of We Can Forever

I shake my head, almost wanting to laugh. People with chronic pain are the toughest. We can walk around all day long, every day, smiling our way through pain that would have most people on the floor. As awful as it is, you kind of…well, not get used to it. More like learn to live with it.

Or live in spite of it.

Sighing, I spin on my heel and start pacing. It sucks that Maya thought she had to grin and bear it, but I get it—and I’ve been guilty of doing the same thing many times.

Which makes me wonder if I’m getting dangerously in over my head. This last week, my schedule has been jam-packed, what with classes, the shop, and finishing up my grant application. I should probably slow down, but I’ve been having too much fun. Especially when Michael is involved.

“Excuse me,” a middle-aged woman in one of the chairs says. “What is it you girls are working on?”

I follow her gaze to Alexis, Devin, and Flick, all three of them knitting or crocheting away. “Oh. We’re making some pieces for the firefighter’s fundraiser. Scarves, hats, and things like that to auction off.”

Her eyes brighten. “I’ve always wanted to knit. It looks so calming.”

“Would you like to learn how to now?” I ask, not even thinking about it.

She looks surprised but nods eagerly, and the next thing I know, we’re sitting side by side as I teach her to cast on. The few other people in the waiting room take notice, and I invite them over. With the needles that are in the bottom of the basket Devin grabbed, I have enough for everyone.

It’s funny. When I was sitting trying to knit by myself, I couldn’t get in the zone. But teaching makes me feel hyperfocused, like nothing could pull me out of the reverie that is yarn, the clicking of plastic on plastic, and the slowing down of thoughts.

Nothing except Michael, that is.

I swear I sense him come in. It’s a shift in the air, like the electric charge that comes on before a big storm. Looking up, I see him striding through the automatic doors, a monolith of comfort and security.

He’s not alone. Katie and Cynthia flank him, all three of them carrying canvas tote bags.

Michael’s gaze sweeps the area and lands on me. I trail off, forgetting where I was in my lesson for this impromptu class, and put my needles down.

“Uh, hopefully that can get everyone started.” I stand. “I’ll be right back. Flick can help if you have any questions.”

Skirting around the pots full of peace lilies and scheffleras, I meet the three of them by the check-in desk. “Hi. What are you doing here?” I shake my head, realizing how rude that sounded. “Not that I’m not happy to see you. Um…hi.”

“We brought you dinner,” Katie announces.

“Enough for everyone,” Michael adds.

“You did?” My jaw drops. Talk about going the extra mile. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Of course we didn’t.” Michael’s gaze holds mine. “But we wanted to.”

Tears fill my eyes, and I wish we were alone so that I could sink into his arms and show how grateful I am for him—in a way that requires privacy. And it’s not just about tonight; it’s about everything he’s done for me since we’ve met.

Trekking over here with bags of food is just the cherry on top.

“Thank you,” I sigh. “The cafeteria here sucks.”

Cynthia chuckles. “Oh, we know.”

“Hannah,” Michael says. “This is my mom?—”

“Cynthia,” I finish. “We actually met earlier today. Thank you for coming,” I tell her.

“You’re welcome.” She pats my shoulder. “How is your friend?”

“We, uh, don’t know yet.” My stomach twists. “We’re still waiting to hear anything.”

“Katie,” Cynthia says, “help me serve dinner. Make a plate for everyone in the waiting room. We have more than enough.” She takes Michael’s bag from him, and she and Katie hustle over to the others.

“I’m so sorry.” Michael wraps me in a hug and draws me close. I’m back in that warm, safe place that makes me melt from the inside out. Snug in his embrace, I feel like nothing could ever go wrong. I’m in a cocoon of perfection, worries vanishing like wisps of smoke.

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