Page 82 of Wishing Hearts

He shakes his head. “Go on. You can show her the book you brought.”

“All right,” I say, but I can’t quite resist stepping up to him first. As I loop my arms around his body, Harrison pauses, graham cracker box held in one hand, his other finding my hip. His blue eyes are soft, the strain that was there when we first met absent. I like seeing him so relaxed. So at ease.

I fit our mouths together gently, and Harrison swipes at me with his tongue. He tastes like sugar and chocolate. Like sweetness and sin. I’d devour him if I could, but I know this isn’t the time for that.

And truthfully, I like this night a whole lot just as it is. I like these moments with this family. With him.

“Sam,” Winnie calls.

Huffing a laugh, I let Harrison’s lips go and step back. He shakes his head, cheeks a little flushed as he goes back to cleaning up our mess. I stop by the tent to grab my book about constellations, and then I make my way up into the treehouse.

Winnie is waiting inside, lying down on the old blankets Harrison said she could keep up here. She points at the roof when I crawl inside her tree fort, as she likes to call it, and I take my cue, turning the latch to open it up. In reality, the moonroof is just a swinging door built into the top of her treehouse, but its sole purpose is for this. Stargazing.

I settle beside Winnie on the blankets, my knees bent so I can fit. “Wanna see if we can find the Big Dipper?” I ask, holding up my book.

Winnie nods, and I flip it open to the right page. It shows a star map of the constellation, and as Winnie tries to match the shape to the stars above, I read her the mythology behind the greater bear, Ursa Major. The Big Dipper only comprises seven of the stars in Ursa Major, but they’re the easiest to spot. It’s a constellation that’s visible year-round in Texas, and after some help on my part, Winnie and I find it riding low in the northern sky.

“I like stars. They’re neat,” Winnie says, relaxing back against her blankets.

I nod, setting my book aside before laying my head in my palms. “They are. You’ve got good taste, li’l miss.”

She’s quiet for a moment. “Sometimes, I don’t like the night, though.”

“No?” I ask, turning my head to look at her.

She doesn’t answer, just looks up through the hole in the roof. I don’t push her on it, but I wonder if it’s because she feels most alone at night, when it’s dark.

“I like the starlight,” I tell her.

“Why?” she asks.

I hum, turning my gaze to the dotted sky. “It’s like…hope. It’s full of wishes. Those stars come out at night, and I look up at ’em and see my future. I see all the things I want my life to be. And maybe it’s a dream, but I think… I think hope and wishes are what make our dreams come true.”

Winnie is quiet for a long while. “Will you make a wish with me, Sam?”

My chest squeezes tight. “I’d love to,” I reply, voice a little hoarse. “First, you gotta pick a star. Got one?”

She gives a nod in my peripheral vision.

“Good,” I say. “Now you hold onto that star, and you make a wish, right inside your heart, all right? You gotta feel it.”

“Okay,” she says softly.

“Okay. Here we go.” Taking a deep breath, I pick out a star in the blinking night sky. “I wish…” I prompt.

Winnie mimics me, her voice quiet. “I wish…”

Neither of us finishes our wish aloud. We keep them in our hearts, just like I told Winnie to do. But of all the wishes I’ve made in my life—of which there have been a great many—this one is the biggest. I can feel it, deep inside, where all my dreams lie. I can feel it, and I want it so damn badly I ache. I want it more than I’ve wanted anything in my entire life.

“Sam?”

A smile curves my lips. “Yeah, Winifred?”

“I think we’re friends now, don’t you?” the little girl asks.

Ah, God.

Blinking rapidly, I clear my throat. “Yeah, li’l miss. I do.”

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