I’m lost in worried thoughts about my brother and his wife as I turn my gaze back to the window overlooking the lavish pool area of the resort. Other than a few early risers who have already claimed their poolside loungers for the day, the pool sits serene and peaceful against the desert backdrop. Resort employees move about with carts of fresh towels and crates of liquor for the bar as they prepare for the day ahead.
“When are you planning to go see your birth mom?”
Covering my mouth with my napkin, I swallow down my food before answering. “Um, I was thinking we could drive out theretomorrow morning. Her address is about forty-five minutes north of here, in Flagstaff.”
He scoops up another bite of eggs. “Are you wanting me to just drop you off and come back or?—”
I freeze, fork stuck in a hover halfway to my mouth before I set it back down. My throat dries up and I reach for my water.
“Or,” Connor drawls, attuned to my reaction, “I can stay with you, if that’s what you want.”
My chest expands as I set the glass aside. “I don’t…um…” I shift my plate and move my knife a quarter inch to the right. “She doesn’t actually know I’m here.”
When I dare to look up, his expression is unbothered. And when he says, “Oh,” it comes out much less troubled than I feel.
“I haven’t talked to her yet.” Connor’s eyebrows lift infinitesimally, a gentle nudge to continue. “I was gonna call her, but then I…I don’t know, I got nervous. What was I supposed to say? ‘Hi, remember me? I’m the kid you gave up. So, how have you been?’” I force a laugh that’s more pitiful than funny. “I don’t know. I just wanted to get here and then figure out the rest. It’s all I could make myself do.”
I snap a piece of bacon with trembling fingers and then snap it again before dropping the crumbs to my plate. Connor’s countenance hasn’t changed at all.
“Well, obviously,Iam the expert on this topic,” he mocks playfully, with a wink thrown in for good measure that is equal parts teasing and comforting. “There’s nooneright way to do this, Gretch. We’ll figure it out together.”
He’s back to his breakfast, downing a sip of coffee and scooping up more eggs. The anxiety I felt a moment ago retreats and, in its place, a quiet confidence washes over me. I can have the world’s weight on my shoulders, barely able to stand under the pressure, and he just saunters up and tethers my yoke to his. Doing it in a way that’s so imperceptible, I barely notice what he’s done before the load feels lighter. He manages it all with a simple look or a comment that makes me smile without dismissing my fears. It’s relief, validation and empowerment all wrapped into one.
In a rare moment of courage, I say, “You’re really good at that.”
He tilts his head. “Good at what?”
“That thing where you hear everything I’m not saying and find a way to give me exactly what I need without making me feel bad for not asking for it.”
Mouth tight, his jaw twitches. He sets down his fork, scratches his neck, then sips his coffee. His hat comes off so he can run a hand through his hair before quickly putting the hat back on, only to flip it around a second later. Connor Vining can fidget with the best of them.
He coughs into his hand and returns to his meal. Before he shovels more food into his mouth, he looks at me, earnest eyes holding mine in their compassion-laced grip. “It’s because I know you.”
My gaze searches his as everything unsaid—everything he’s holding back because I told him I wasn’t ready to talk—drifts in the space between us like planes circling a runway, waiting for permission to land.
How is it, after three years of no contact, he’s still my favorite person? How can I look at this man who broke my heart so thoroughly and still see a best friend?
“For better or worse, Connor, I think you know me better than anyone else ever has.”
Chapter Nineteen
I SAID NO FLIRTING
Gretchen
The mid-morning airis warm and crisp, sun shining uninhibited as it climbs in the Eastern sky.
Navigating a pile of boulders that block the path, Connor moves with confidence from one perch to the next before jumping across a small gap to land on the trail on the other side. Then he turns and extends a hand for me.
“How’s your back?” I ask as I take his hand. His other palm grazes the exposed skin at the small of my back above the waistband of my shorts to secure my landing as I make the small jump. His touch disappears as fast as it came, but the sensation lingers.
“Better. A little tight still, but not bad.”
“I tossed the ibuprofen in the bag if you need some.” I gesture to the small pack I loaded up this morning that Connor has slung over his shoulders.
“Thanks.”
The panic I felt when I found him on the living room floor circles back in my thoughts. “I didn’t realize it could get like that?”
