Page 89 of Wishing Hearts

Harrison follows me silently into the kitchen, his steps slow and heavy, and when he sits down at the table, I plop a small plate in front of him.

“What’s this?” he asks, brow drawn.

“Dessert first,” I tell him with a wink. “I’ll grab your tacos.”

“Sam.” He picks up the cookie. Sugar with sprinkles. “Did you get these for me?”

I hum, setting to work on assembling his meal. “Figured you could use a li’l pick-me-up.”

Harrison scoots out of his chair, swinging me around to face him. He kisses me then, all fire and pluck and desperation, and I didn’t quite realize how much I needed that, but it settles something in me, that kiss. It reaches deep and tugs. Soothes. Lights a fire.

Harrison’s hands bracket my face as he pulls back. “Sorry I’m so gross.”

I huff a laugh. “I don’t mind, but you can wash me later if it’ll make you feel better.”

His lips lift at the corner before his face falls slightly. “I’m sorry about today, too.”

I lead Harrison back to the table, shoving him gently into his seat. At my insistent look, he picks up his cookie and takes a bite.

“It’s all right,” I tell him, going back to his tacos. “What all was goin’ on?”

Harrison sighs, brushing crumbs off his fingers before leaning back in his chair. “It was just…everything. I got peed on. I was a mess at work. Winnie’s school called because she hurt her elbow. I forgot my lunch at home and never had a chance to eat. And then I had my hands up a cow, and suddenly, it was nearly time to pick up Winnie, and I just… I just lost it, and you were the one I was talking to at the time.”

I nod, taking a seat next to Harrison and passing him his food. “It hurt,” I tell him honestly, “that you didn’t want my help.”

“It wasn’t that I didn’t want it,” he says, leaning forward and squeezing my arm, his thumb near my wrist. “I’m just so used to doing everything by myself. I’m not used to having a…you. I forgot, for a minute, that I didn’t have to figure it all out on my own. Sometimes…” He breaks off, looking down at his plate. I give him a moment to compose his thoughts. “Sometimes I feel like you give me so much. Maybe too much. I don’t have as much to give you in return.”

“You give me plenty, stud,” I say softly.

Harrison’s eyes raise to mine. “Do I?”

I nod. “Yeah, you do.”

You give me everything I’ve ever wanted.

He blows out a little breath, and I nudge his plate closer to him. Letting go of my arm, Harrison eats his late supper and then the rest of his cookie, and I watch on, satisfied to no end when he moans happily around the treat.

“Everything go okay here?” he asks once he’s done.

“Yep,” I tell him. “Winnie wouldn’t eat the avocado after all, but I got a couple cucumber slices into her. And your parents were really nice when I picked her up. Pretty sure your dad might even love me. He asked how that takin’ it slow thing was goin’ in that sassy voice of his.”

Harrison barks a laugh. “Sounds like him.” He smiles a little before adding, “I think we’re going just the right speed for us, though. Don’t you? Even if it is a little fast?”

I don’t tell him that, for me, too fast doesn’t exist where he’s concerned. I just link my fingers with his. “Yeah, stud. I like our speed.”

He nods, giving my hand a squeeze.

“Now, what was this about you gettin’ peed on?” I ask.

Harrison lets out another laugh.

Fifteen minutes later, he and Winnie are upstairs, getting ready for bedtime, and Tigger and I are out in the backyard. I throw the ball for her a few times, but the dog sits beside my foot before long, not as energetic as some Brittany Spaniels I’ve met.

“Ready to head in?” I ask her.

She looks up at me before trotting toward the door. Smart dog.

We get inside around the same time Harrison is coming down the stairs. He runs his hand through his hair, looking tired. “Shower?” he asks.

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