Page 88 of Wishing Hearts

“All right, li’l miss. You see if you can find Cassiopeia. I’m gonna finish cleanin’ up the kitchen.”

Winnie nods, tugging her tablet closer and scrolling through the interactive star map I downloaded for her. My constellation book is opened up next to her on the floor, and the little girl looks back and forth between the two, trying to match up Cassiopeia’s shape on the app.

With a smile, I leave her to it, climbing out of the living room fort. Tigger follows, padding along beside me as I make my way into the kitchen.

“Your dad’ll be home soon,” I reassure the both of us. Tigger merely sits down in front of me, her tongue-lolling face making it impossible not to give her a good dozen or so scratches. “Stop bein’ so cute,” I tell her with no real venom. “I gotta clean up.”

Tigger gives me a lick, and I drag myself away, putting the last of the supper dishes into the dishwasher while my nerves tumble over. Winnie and I already ate supper, and it’s getting close now to her bedtime. Harrison texted a half hour ago to let me know he was finally on his way home, and considering the day he had, I want to make sure everything is cleaned up before he arrives.

My chest goes through a complicated roll of sensations—tightness, worry, relief—as I think about my own day.

I’m not sure I’ve ever been more freaked out than I was this afternoon when Harrison wasn’t returning my texts. It wasn’t like the man. And then that phone call? Hell. He’d never spoken to me that way before, like I was part of his burden. It made me feel equal parts small and terrified.

I’ve dated plenty. And as I told Harrison the day we met, I’ve been broken up with plenty, too. I can always tell when it’s about to happen—when my partner’s voice turns from one of fondness to irritation. I heard that, ever so briefly, in Harrison’s tone, and for the handful of minutes before he called me back to apologize, I thought that might be it. The beginning of the end.

I’ve been alone, in one way or another, for most of my life. But I don’t want to end up that way. I don’t want to leave this life the same way I came into it. It’s why I always tried so hard to make my past relationships work. Why I always kept digging, hoping to find that something that would make me and my partner last. It’s why it always hurt so much when I was left, once again, on my own.

It’s different with Harrison. It has been from the get-go. I didn’t have to dig deep to feel that spark. It was there from the beginning, and it’s grown steadily over the past couple months. And now, for the first time in my life, being alone isn’t what I fear most.

I’m afraid of being without him.

I don’t know exactly when that changed, but somewhere along the way, I fell for Harrison in a way I’ve never fallen for anybody. I can feel the difference, plain as day. I love that man. I love his life, his daughter, and his dog. I love the rushed mornings and the treehouse in the backyard. I love his blue eyes and his talented tongue, and even the goddamn vibrator he keeps in his nightstand drawer. I love the quiet moments. The ones where he looks me in the eye and says, “Tell me something.” I love all the messy pieces that make up his beautiful existence and the way he opened up the door for me to step into it.

I love his fragile heart, and I don’t want to ever let go.

But I don’t know if Harrison is there yet. The blip we had today showed me his automatic response is still assuming he has to do everything on his own. He trusts me with Winnie; I know that much. The evidence is in this evening. He asked me to pick her up from his parents’ and take care of her until he was home.

But trust isn’t the same as knowing, deep down, that he can rely on me. It’s not the same as love.

And with Carl’s words about being careful ringing in my head, I wonder… Do I tell Harrison that I love him? Or do I just keep showing him and hope that, one day, he’ll feel the same?

When the door from the garage opens, Tigger hops up, scrambling out of the kitchen. I ease out a breath, following her. Harrison is inside the laundry room pass-through, kicking off his boots when Tigger wiggles up to him. He gives her a tired smile, pausing with one boot still in place as he rubs along her neck and down her sides. When he catches sight of me, he straightens and finishes the task of removing his boots.

“Hi, Sam,” he says tentatively, worry etched in the line of his brow.

Enough of that. I step close, scooting around Tigger to pull Harrison into my arms. He practically falls against my chest, holding onto me tight as his breath stutters against my neck. He smells like a barnyard—like straw and animals and sweat—and he trembles slightly in my arms.

“Sam,” he says again, voice as shaky as his body.

“Hush now, stud,” I reply, squeezing him tight. “We’ll talk about it later, after you’ve had some food.”

He blows out a breath, nodding against me, and then tiny arms wrap around us from the side. I look over, and there’s Winnie, giving me and her dad a hug.

“Hey, Pumpkin,” Harrison says, shifting one of his arms around his daughter. “How’s your elbow?”

“Fine,” she replies. “Sam and I already ate dinner, but there are tacos left for you. And Sam let me have a cookie, but just one. Then we made a fort, and I found the Big Dipper all by myself. I’m gonna be an astrologer one day.”

“Astronomer,” I correct.

“Astronomer,” Winnie says, wrinkling her nose before stepping back. “Daddy, why do you smell?”

Harrison laughs a little wetly, blinking fast. “I helped a cow give birth.”

“Oh. You should probably take a bath,” she says matter-of-factly before running off. Most likely back to her fort.

Harrison’s gaze swings to me, eyes wide as he shakes his head.

“C’mon,” I say, giving him a little tug. “Food.”

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