Page 86 of Home Safe

Following her through the hallway, we step through the double doors of the library. I recognize her friend, Kara, standing there keeping Jason occupied, and I make a mental note to thank her for running interference to give me that first moment alone with Danae. An autographed jersey for her husband should work, after hearingabout Ron’s ecstatic reaction to the first round of autographed merch I gave him.

When Jason sees us enter, he sprints across the room. I kneel down to catch him in a hug. “Fireball! I missed you!”

“Mr. Griffin! You’re here at my school! This is so cool. Too bad all my friends are gone already because they know that my mom is dating you now, and I promised that someday I’d bring you here to meet everyone, and they act like they don’t believe me, but I think they’re just jealous.” His words are one unending, stream-of-consciousness sentence.

Pulling back to see his face, I scan his green eyes, the freckles that have multiplied under the spring sun, that red hair that stands out like a fire signal.Man, I missed this kid. My heart is suddenly tight, like a fist clenching to brace for the impact of a punch. “It’s good to see you. I’ll definitely come visit sometime when your friends are here. I’ll work it out with your mom, okay?”

Standing up, I nod my head at Kara. “Good to see you again, Kara. We’ll have to get you and Ron out to some games with Danae and Jason sometime this season.”

She turns to look at Danae. “This friendship is winning me ‘wife of the year’ status for the rest of my life.” Turning back to me, she adds, “I gladly accept the offer. Not all of us are baseball-haters.”

“Hey!” Danae exclaims with mock offense. “No need to make me look bad.”

“Nothing could make you look bad, babe.” I watch both women melt before my eyes. I wink at Danae and add, “Now put me to work. What are we decorating?”

“I’ve gotta go pick up Millie from daycare,” Kara says. “But I’ll talk to you tomorrow, Danae.” Her insistent tone adequately communicates the demand behind her statement. I hide a smile.

“Okay, we’re transforming this space from regular library into reading café extraordinaire,” Danae says, pulling out a tub labeled “Reading Week Supplies.”

“And why’s that?” I ask, mostly because I want to hear her passion for her job come through in the explanation.

“We’ve been celebrating reading all week, but tomorrow we have an extra-special experience,” she explains. “The fifth graders get todress up and act like the servers at a fancy reading restaurant, helping the younger kids find books they might like. Then they serve cookies before sitting down at the tables to read a book aloud to a small group of students.”

Grinning at the enthusiasm in her voice, I say, “I love it. What a great way for the younger grades to see reading as a special experience.”

Danae beams at my praise. “Andit’s an opportunity for the oldest kids to model helpful behavior for the younger students. Plus, work on their reading fluency. It’s one of my favorite days of the year, even if it’s a lot of extra work.”

We spend the next thirty minutes draping twinkle lights from the ceiling and covering the overhead lights with sheer fabric to soften the fluorescent glow. We rearrange tables and cover them with tablecloths and book character-inspired centerpieces. Jason flits around adding finishing touches and filling me in on the many, many things that have transpired in his life over the past four days. As the space comes together, I let out a low whistle.

“Looks pretty amazing. Maybe I would have enjoyed reading slightly more if it had been approached this way when I was a kid,” I say.

“Speaking of you enjoying reading, have you made any progress on the audiobook?” Danae asks, layering excessive amounts of casual into her tone.

“I’ll have you know I finished it on the flight here,” I say, feeling far too proud for a grown man who just admitted to completing a children’s fiction book.

When Danae’s eyes sparkle with delight, the pride runs deeper. Jason’s enthusiastic cheer only serves to pile it on.

“And?” Danae asks.

I clear my throat. “And it was . . . good.”

“Just good?” she clarifies.

“You know how you told me that you could see howotherpeople enjoy the atmosphere of baseball games?” I ask. Her mouth quirks as she rolls her eyes and crosses her arms. I smile and continue, “I can see how you and Jason love it. But I’d still rather be listening to a sports podcast than a bunch of kid wizards learning how to make objects float in the air. I think this was a one and done experience.”

Jason immediately lets out a wail of offense, launching into an explanation about how this is only the beginning, and the books get so much better as you learn more about the characters . . .

His voice fades from my consciousness, though, as Danae saunters toward me, a flirtatious smile on her face. She leans onto her tiptoes and places her hand on one of my cheeks and her lips on the other. “I appreciate you trying it,” she says. “Even if you sorely lack literary taste.”

I catch her in my arms and tickle her sides, burying my face in her neck under the guise of punishing her for that comment, but really I want to inhale her scent. That smell I’ve been aching for the past four days that felt more like four decades apart from her.

How did I get here? So completely gone for a woman I’ve known less than three months?

I’m not sure how it happened, but I’m definitely gone. And I don’t want to be found.

After completing the library transformation, I convince Danae to transfer Jason’s booster over to my Jeep to ride over to my house together. I don’t care that I’ll have to drive them back to her car later tonight—I don’t want to spend a single second apart. Not even a twenty-minute drive.

I answer all of Jason’s questions about the exhibition games in Texas and ask him about his predictions for the upcoming season. The kid has a remarkable grasp on the game, not only from an enjoyment level, but an analytical level.

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