Page 54 of When Wildflowers Bloom

Lips to lips, tongue to tongue, scrape of his beard against the smoothness of my skin. The way Bo kisses me melts my bones.

My hands move from his waist, up the length of his torso, and press into his chest.

When his mouth leaves mine, it’s to nip a trail down the column of my neck that sends heat firing through me.

Pulling away, his forehead drops to mine.

His breathy, “I want you to come inside,” meets my nervous, “I’m not ready.”

He smiles.

“I’ll wait.”

I smile.

“Okay.”

No arguing, no telling him not to ask again. The okay I give him is the best I have.

“Okay,” he says, smiling, pulling his forehead away from mine. “Can I see you Saturday?”

“Actually, I have a date.”

“Oh really, Pam Beesly?” The way he raises his eyebrows tells me he only half-believes me.

“I do. With one of my clients. At the Veterans of Blue Ridge. There’s a fundraiser with music and Vietnam vets. I might find my once in a lifetime love there,” I say with a grin.

He ghosts one last kiss on my lips. “Maybe you will.”

Eighteen

“I wonder what Huckthought about Bo,” I say, popping a meatball into my mouth.

Huck grins and drops a meatball on the floor for the dog before eating one himself. “He’s nice, Birdie. I think he likes me.”

I snort. “Of course he likes you, Huck, I wonder why you would say that.”

Another meatball plops to the floor, and George Strait eagerly licks it up.

“Some of the kids at school don’t like me,” he says with a matter-of-fact tone that squeezes at me. “Miss Alice gets frustrated when I don’t eat the right food.”

I sigh, looking at him. “You don’t worry about that, Huck. People get frustrated with me all the time. They think the food I eat is complicated or my lists are silly!” I could talk this kid’s ear off about all the ways I annoy people. “Some people will get you, somepeople won’t—that happens forever and to everyone, even when you feel like it’s just you.”

He’s quiet, as though he’s trying to hear the words I’ve said twice.

He picks up a Lego creation off the table and fidgets with it in his hands.

“Huck wonders what happens when I leave Miss Alice’s house.” There’s a tinge of sadness in his words and my mind instantly goes to Bo’s offer—to take him if I do, after I’m gone.

I believe him—he would. After seeing his effort with the pizza, I know he understands him, but the worry I can’t shake is if it would be a burden on him. Would he resent me for the rest of his life because he got a kid he never planned for who’s so different? On one hand, even if he did resent me, I’d be dead, so maybe that argument doesn’t matter. No—I still don’t want to be responsible for his unhappiness, even from the grave.

“You’ll end up somewhere great, kiddo, I just know it.”

I push the pan of meatballs closer to him and he smiles slightly before taking one for himself and one for the dog.

“Huck wishes he could live with Birdie,” he says with a full mouth, “and Bo and Lucy.”

With this, I’m speechless. I don’t know how to even respond. On one hand, it’s a reality that doesn’t exist. A pretend world. But on the other, I can imagine it. Us—and Bo and Lucy—living a good life…together. It’s a jarring realization that nearly takes my breath away. Not just the image of it—a fabricated portrait in my mind—but the notion that I would want it. Almost long for it.

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