I follow, laughing despite myself. "Are you five years old?"
"Sometimes," he admits, dropping onto one of the swings. "Come on, when's the last time you let yourself just play?"
I can't remember, which is probably answer enough. I sit on the swing beside him, feeling slightly ridiculous but also strangely free.
"Bet I can go higher," he challenges, already pumping his legs.
"You're on."
We swing side by side, trying to outdo each other, laughing like children. The fact that we're two grown adults—one a professional athlete, one a dentist with a doctorate—makes it all the more absurd and extraordinary.
"Jump on three!" Alder calls when we're both swinging high. "One, two, three!"
My first instinct is fear, but something about Alder and our morning together snuffs out that hesitation. I let go of the chains and sail through the air. I feel free as if I’m flying—an actual bird. With a soft thud, I squeal before landing in the mulch, momentum carrying me forward onto my knees. Alder lands beside me, both of us laughing too hard to care about the mulch now stuck to our clothes.
"I can't believe we just did that," I gasp between laughs, brushing wood chips from my palms.
“I can,” he says, sitting up beside me. “You’re fun, Lena Sinclair.”
He reaches over, and for a moment, I think he's going to take my hand. Instead, he gently plucks a piece of mulch from my hair. His fingers linger for just a second.
“And you're really beautiful, you know that?" he says, his voice softer than before. "Especially like this, with your cheeks all rosy and your eyes bright."
My breath catches. No clever response comes to mind, no deflection or self-deprecating joke. All I can do is meet his gaze as something electric passes between us.
"Alder," I begin, not sure what I'm going to say next.
"Mom! Mom! Look at me!" A child's voice breaks the moment as a little boy races past us to the climbing structure.
Alder withdraws his hand, but his eyes remain fixed on mine. "We should probably head back," he says, though he doesn't sound particularly convinced.
He stands and offers his hand, effortlessly pulling me to my feet. We brush ourselves off as best we can and begin walking back toward the parking lot, a newfound awareness humming between us.
"Thanks for today," I say as we reach his car. "I needed this more than I realized."
"Me too." He opens my door for me. "We should do it again sometime. Before you..." He trails off.
"Before I find a new place," I finish for him. "That might be a while at the rate I'm going. Everything decent is either too expensive or already taken."
"No rush," he says, and I can hear both relief and caution in his voice. "The guest room is yours for as long as you need it."
As we drive back to the city, windows down and music playing, I find myself relaxing into the moment, letting go of the constant fretting about the future. For today, at least, I cansimply enjoy this—the warm breeze, the music, the comfortable presence of the man beside me.
Maybe just for this weekend, I can stop overthinking everything and simply enjoy this strange, unexpected connection we've found.
CHAPTER 20
ALDER
The late afternoonsun slants through our townhouse windows as I rummage through the fridge, searching for something to offer Lena.Mytownhouse. Shit. After our day at the river, I'm not ready for it to end. I want to preserve this new easiness between us, this return to something that feels remarkably like friendship.
Or maybe something more.
I can't stop thinking about how she looked today—cheeks flushed with exertion, hair wild from the river breeze, that genuine laugh when she jumped from the swing. She'd seemed so free, so different from the guarded woman who's been avoiding me all week.
"You hungry?" I call toward the hallway where she disappeared to change out of her damp clothes. "We've got leftover chicken, or I could throw together some pasta."
No response, but I hear her footsteps, then a strange sound that makes me straighten up and close the fridge.
