Page 140 of All We Need

Through my hazy state, giddy excitement takes root at the thud of his boots from the stairwell.

His knuckles barely touch the door beforeI’mswinging it open and throwing myself into his body.He’slate andI’mgreedy for him asIseal my lips over his and drag him inside.Butwhen my face nuzzles into his neck and hands slide over his shoulders, they’re tense.Iattempt to make some space to look at him, but he squeezes me harder.

“Hey.Iseverything okay?”Myvoice is muffled against the collar of his coat.

The curls around my hairline flutter as he exhales deeply. “Canwe talk?”

My heart drops. “Whathappened?”

When he finally releases me, his expression is pensive. “Let’ssit.”

He tugs me toward the sofa, but my feet dig into the floor. “Let’snot.Somethingis wrong, andIneed to know.Spitit out,Booth.”

He doesn’t coddle me; he’s direct, and speaks the next three words calmly. “Harveyis here.”

However delivered, this news was bound to tilt my world on its axis.ButIhaveBooth, who keeps me standing.Afterprocessing his words,Iblink once, then the hunt for answers becomes a priority.

“How do you know?Didyou see him?Doeshe know about me?”Myvoice is surprisingly level.

It’s been weeks sinceMartinfirst reached out to his son.Dayby day, the hopeIheld onto dwindled.I’mawareIcould have reached out toHarveywithoutMartin’sinput, but gradually,I’vewanted this more forMartinthan myself.We’vegrown close, our weekly meetups somethingIlook forward to.

Booth’s gaze tracks my face slowly.I’man open book to him.He’sstudied my pages, familiarized himself with my words, and accepted my hard exterior.Heknows me, and because of that, he doesn’t waver.

“He and his wife showed up atOurPlaceafter we closed looking for somewhere to eat.They’restaying inJacob’sBluff.I…Idon’t know if he knows about you.Icame here as soon asIcould.Martindoesn’t know.Ithought you should tell him.”Hesucks in a breath after rattling off each detail.Thenhe waits.Patient.Steadfast.

“How did you know it was him?”

“The eyes.Hair.Ijust knew.”Hedrags a hand through his hair. “Tobe sure,Ioffered to make them a reservation for tomorrow night and he confirmed his name.Martinwas right, he took his mom’s maiden name.Hegoes byHarveyCampbell.”

My head thumps against his chest asIplan my next steps.

A calloused palm curves around my throat, tilting my head up. “Whatdo you need?”

“You.”Mychest deflates with the breathIdidn’t knowIwas holding. “Ineed you.”

“You’ve got me,Silv.”Hisfingers skim my jaw, the soothing touch lulling me to sleep. “Doyou want me there?”

“I want you there.”Theknowledge that he’ll be by my side quells the bubbling anxiety.

“Then that’s whereI’llbe.”Hetucks my head under his chin. “It’swhereIalways want to be.”

The scentof freshly ground coffee fills the air.Afirm hand rests at the base of my spine.Thesun shines through the window, highlighting the dust mites asMartinsettles into his chair.

Those are the things most people would pay attention to.

My eyes remain glued to the row of framed photographs sitting on the mantelpiece above his fireplace.Fourphotos that were not there during our last visit to the farmhouse, all of his son at different stages of his childhood.

“He really hasn’t called?”Iask for the second time and finally drag my gaze away.

Martin stares into his cup, the steam slowly ebbing as it cools in his hands. “Ithought maybe my answering machine broke orImissed the call, but nothing.”

We arrived at the farmhouse first thing and explained howHarveyturned up atOurPlacelast night.Consideringhe refused to answerMartin’scalls or respond to his letters, we’re all a little shell-shocked and unprepared for this development.Martinespecially.

“This is good,”Boothsays. “Maybehe’s willing to talk.Idoubt he’s here on vacation.”

Martin nods solemnly but doesn’t look convinced. “Howdid he seem?”

“Happy.Heand his wife were friendly.Wechatted a little about his construction business.”

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