Page 11 of Every Heartbeat After

“Just wanted to take a stroll through the festival before getting some shut-eye.” Kit tilts his head, one brow raised. Whatever silent standoff they’re having, I think he’s winning on nonchalance alone. “That okay with you?”

Before Zoey can respond, Gary claps Kit’s shoulder. “Thanks again for giving Tess a ride, son.”

Surprisingly Kit’s expression turns sheepish. Not something I thought he’d be capable of feeling, but what do I know? I only rode in a car with the guy for a couple hours. I’d do well to remember that he’s hardly more than a stranger to me, albeit a handsome one.

“Happy to do it.” He meets my gaze once more, and any attempt at brushing these feelings off goes out the door. I don’t know how to describe it, the way I feel so stripped bare and also wrapped up tight. He looks at me, and I’m pinned in place, unable to breathe, waiting for the next words off his lips to set me free. As though he senses as much, he clicks his tongue and breaks our stare, glancing instead at the row of booths behind us. “Enjoy your day, Tess. Pretty sure there’s a booth for the local kickboxing place across the way. You know, if you’re interested.”

The giggle that spills out of me is embarrassingly high-pitched. “Noted.”

Aaron, Gary, and Zoey are looking at us like we’ve each grown two heads.

“Bye, y’all.” Kit tips his chin toward us, gaze flitting from face to face. It settles on mine for the longest heartbeat before darting away.

“That was so fucking weird,” Zoey mumbles.

Aaron flicks his fiancée’s hair. “Be nice.”

“Oh, Tess.” Gary makes atsksound. The sun bounces off his bald head as he shakes it, and I wonder for a second if he has sunscreen on or not. “You’ve broken him.”

The feeling’s mutual,I want to say, suddenly annoyed that I’m this off-kilter thanks to a few interactions with a man who fancies himself charming. It’s unfamiliar territory and, I realize, an easy way to distract myself from all the heaviness being here with Gary brings up. The mind latches on to strange things to avoid pain. I should know.

I force my lips into a pleasant smile, stamping down the emotion rising in my throat. “It’s just an inside joke, that’s all. So where’s this coffee you speak of?”

“A block up the street. I’ll lead the way,” Gary says, the moment with Kit already forgotten.

“Want to sit on your scooter and I’ll push, old man?” Aaron jokes.

Zoey snickers and Gary scowls. “Try that and I’ll kick you with this boot.”

“Don’t,” Zoey says, voice filled with mock concern as she pretends to hold my uncle back by the shoulders. “The last thing we need is another hobbler slowing us down.”

Gary shrugs her off, his bushy white eyebrows furrowed, but his feigned anger quickly morphs into laughter. It’s a current that rises up and carries all of us with it. I swallow the momentary sadness down and allow myself to be buoyed. Today is a happy day.

* * *

“So what did you think of everyone?”

Zoey and Aaron spent the better half of the morning with us before leaving to give us some one-on-one bonding time. I met the coffee shop owner and her husband, and even their two small children. I also met Tomas, Kit’s boss, who greeted me with a bear hug. I met the teller who always processes Gary’s military pension checks, and the plant nursery worker who keeps Zoey in foliage. At every turn, there was another friend turned honorary family member whom Gary presented me to with a proud sweep of his arm.

We ate food truck chili dogs and shared a scoop of mint ice cream, which we brought Marcy a cone of, much to her delight. When navigating with the scooter became too exhausting for Gary, we laid in the grass of a nearby green space while the sun sank lower in the sky. For the first time in forever I felt I was a part of something bigger. A community that didn’t see me for all that I was missing, but welcomed me for the one thing I had.

Gary.

“They were amazing,” I say breathlessly as I help Gary back to his feet. And I mean it. Sure, there are people back home that I’d consider myself close to, including my best friend, Alicia, who has sent a massive amount of texts that await my reply. I know the postmaster and the grocery store clerks and the bank tellers. But today felt different. It felt right in a way I haven’t in years.

I’m floating more than walking, whether because of the day I’ve had or the three hard ciders I drank with our dinner. Gary and I amble slowly down the sidewalk. Any remnants of the festival have been packed up, so our path is clear as we make our way to his apartment, where I’ll help him up the stairs before heading back to my motel room.

It’s my last night, but I’m already wishing for a thousand more.

He pats my hand, which I’ve wrapped around his elbow, a soft smile peeking out from his beard. “They liked you, too.”

“How can you tell?” I ask, pursing my lips at nothing.

He shrugs. “I just know.”

I take him at his word. We may have just met, but I feel like I’ve known him my whole life. Mom would have liked him. Loved him, actually. Dad, too. And for the first time this weekend, I allow that thought to overwhelm me. Waves of sadness sweep through me, painting the chambers of my heart the deepest shade of blue.

“I wish Mom could have met you,” I manage to choke out.

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