Page 93 of One Small Spark
She exhales a soft groan. “I just realized. He’s going to have Thanksgiving dinner with us, isn’t he?”
I tuck her hair behind her ear, trailing my fingers along the delicate skin there. “Why are you upset about the sheriff?”
She stares at my truck instead of me. “I know I sound like a thirteen-year-old girl who hates her new stepdad. I’m happy for Mom. I really am. I just don’t know how we’re supposed to navigate all this stuff.”
“Which stuff?”
“I don’t know. The ‘this man is now part of our lives’ stuff, I guess. It’s been just the three of us forever, August notwithstanding.”
“You don’t have to do anything major. Just get to know him a little at a time.”
“Is that smart, though? Do we really want to get attached to this guy?” She drops her voice but doesn’t lose her bite. “He could change his mind. He could decide to leave tomorrow, and even if we asked him to stay?—”
She snaps her mouth shut. Her shoulders slump, and she drags both hands down her face. Her eyes grow so sad, my arms ache to reach out and pull her to me. A ragged groan slips out of her, but she finally meets my gaze.
“I don’t ask for things like this often, so please understandthe gravity of what I’m about to request.” She takes a deep breath. “But could you hug me, please?”
I step in and wrap her up in my arms, one hand cradling the back of her head, the other tight across her back even as I grip the stuffy she gave me. “Always, Wren.”
We stay like that in the driveway for a long time, her arms tucked up between our chests. I hold her, blocking out the cold as we breathe through it. I don’t know what she’s processing, but it’s significant that she’s willing to process it with me.
After a while, she shifts, moving to embrace me in return. “I’m not the first person to suggest it, but I should probably go to therapy.”
I squeeze her tighter, lightly caressing as though I can fuse her broken pieces back together, whatever they are. “I can refer you to the practice I go to if you need a suggestion.”
“That would be good.” She rests her forehead against my chest. “This is so bad. Mental breakdowns are not attractive.”
I run my hands over her back. “You don’t have anything to worry about, Wren. Would it comfort you to know just how attractive I find you?”
She laughs, but releases me, dragging her hands across my sides as she takes a step back. “I don’t know if comfort is the right word.”
I tilt my head down. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“I’m fine. That crisis was nothing.”
She’s aiming for her usual indifference but doesn’t hit her mark.
“I’m here for you. Anything you need.”
Her little smile works its way straight through my ribcage and into my heart. “You know that thing where you’re upset about something but you’re frustrated because obviously, it’s not a big deal, that can’t be what’s making you upset? And then you realize what’s actually making you upset and now you’re evenmore frustrated with yourself becausethat? That is the cause of the trouble?” She throws her arms out wide. “That’s pretty much me right now.”
“Surprisingly relatable.”
“Thank you for…you know.”
She’s painfully bad at the emotional side of things. That’s okay. I’m not always the best, either. Maybe together, we can work it out. But for now, I can offer her a distraction.
“You mean the other night when I kissed you until you forgot your name?”
Her mouth drops open into an indignantO. “Sir. I kissedyouthat time.”
I flash her my smuggest smirk. “You sure did, kitten.”
“You’d better go meet up with your sister orI’mgoing to tear you a new one.”
I take a couple of steps backward but hold up the stuffy. “Thank you for this guy. Does he have a name?”
“Cheeseball. Like his father before him.”
