Page 18 of Wishing Hearts

He huffs a laugh, and I internally pump my fist.

After Harrison drinks the remainder of his water, he shakes the empty canteen. “I need to refill this.”

“I’ll come with,” I say, walking with him toward the tables where lunch has yet to arrive.

We’re halfway there when Harrison stutters to a stop quickly enough that some dust floats up around his boots.

“What is it?” I ask, looking from his wide-eyed gaze to the area he’s staring.

He shakes his head quickly, turning and heading in a different direction. “Nothing,” he mutters, even though it’s obvious that’s not true.

“Harrison,” I say, jogging to keep up with him.

He doesn’t once look over his shoulder, but when I reach his side, placing my hand on his arm, the expression on his face makes my gut clench.

“I can’t,” he says, shaking his head again. “I have to…” His eyes search the nearby buildings, roaming frantically, before they land on me, pleading. “Get me out of here.”

I don’t hesitate. I grab Harrison’s arm and tug him toward a small shed. Motes of dust billow out when I throw the door wide, and sunlight illuminates the interior for all of a second before I’m shuffling Harrison and myself inside and closing the door.

It’s cramped in here, the inside of the shed filled with gardening equipment I doubt has been used in years, as well as a riding lawn mower and a roll of chicken wire. There’s a broken board along the side of the shed, which lets in a slanted sliver of light, but otherwise, now that the door is shut, it’s dark.

Harrison’s breathing is audible in the small, dusty space, and his chest heaves against my own. We’re pressed tightly together, having nowhere else to go. There’s barely enough room for the two of us to stand.

“Harrison?” I question gently.

“Thank you,” he replies, voice whisper-soft. “I wasn’t ready.”

“Wasn’t ready for what?” I ask, bringing my hands tentatively up his arms to his shoulders. He’s firm under my grip, muscles tensed.

Harrison is quiet for a long moment before he answers. “To see my ex.”

Oh. His ex. From a decade ago?

“Are you still in love with ’im?” I ask before I can filter my mouth even a little. I’d slap myself if I had the space to do it.

Harrison shakes his head slightly, a movement I can feel more than see, although my eyes are starting to adjust to the dimness inside the shed.

“No, I’m not,” he answers around a rough laugh. “I’m really not. I just… I haven’t seen him since…”

He doesn’t say since what or when, but it’s easy enough to guess. Since they broke up.

“I’m sorry,” I say gently.

He lets out a breathy chuckle before leaning into me, and I don’t hesitate to wrap my arms around him. This is the closest we’ve ever been, cuddling aside, and as Harrison’s cheek brushes lightly against my own, his stubble coarse and prickling me like static electricity, my heart takes off at a gallop.

It’d be so easy to turn my head. So easy to find his lips in the dark and taste this man who has revved my engines since the moment I set eyes on him.

But I don’t. I don’t because Harrison hasn’t given me any indication that would be welcome.

“Sam,” he says quietly, my name a sigh.

I hum a little. “I’ll get you callin’ me Sammy one of these days,” I say. Even though we only have a couple days left.

The thought is a strangely disappointing one.

Harrison lets out a little huff, and his breath hits my neck. “You’re not a dog,” he counters.

That makes me chuckle, and before I can think about it, I reply, “No, but I would come if you called out my name.”

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