September 27th
Shit, they’re not wasting any time. I do a quick scan of the calendar—it’s a Saturday, and I’m scheduled to work. Damn. I’m sure I can find someone to trade with, but I’d better start working on it.
Cam doesn’t reply, but he’s a moving target this time of year and rarely remembers to charge his phone, let alone take time to respond.
EDIE:
On my calendar! Now I just need a date!
Shit. Date? A beat of panic fires under my skin. Maybe I can get away with bringing Greta as my date. My brothers won’t hassle me, right?
I groan. Who am I kidding? Of course they will.
The timer for the pasta beeps, so I shut off the burner and dump the noodles into the colander. “Inside or outside?” I call out to Meg.
“Outside sounds awesome,” she says.
I get everything to my picnic table just as the sun slips behind the low clouds hugging the western horizon, casting a soft, golden glow across the black lake. Out on the water, my unfinished dock project calls to me like an itch I need to scratch, but it’s officially on hold until Meg is better.
With cricket song filling the silence, I light both lanterns and hang one on the shepherd’s hook at the edge of the deck, then light the citronella candle in the center of the table.
When I go back for Meg, she’s already swinging through the sliding glass door.
Even in her hindered state, it’s hard not to stare.
“This is so nice,” she says, a hint of a smile on her lips. “Thank you.”
I meet her at the picnic table and help her with the crutches, then grab a spare chair so she can prop up her leg. The night is cooling quickly so I also bring out a spare blanket and set it next to her.
“There’s more of everything. Just ask,” I say once I’m settled across from her.
“Where’s Greta tonight?” She sets her napkin on her lap and swirls a bite of pasta onto her fork.
“With her mom.”
She lifts the fork to her mouth. “Mmm,” she groans, chewing slowly.
A current of heat travels down my spine. I shouldn’t stare at her soft lips wrapping around her fork, and I should not be imagining all the places I’d like to feel her mouth on me.
“This is really good,” she adds, snapping me back to the table.
“Glad you like it.” That I can bring her any source of pleasure right now after what happened eases the guilt hooked around my shoulders.
“Do you guys have a plan or does it depend on your work schedule?”
I stab a bite of salad. “There’s a plan, but in the summer it’s more flexible.”
“You must miss her.”
Like crazy. “Did someone bring you clothes?”
She furrows her brow. “You mean to the hospital? Yeah, my friend Annaleise.”
That she didn’t name a guy brings on a wave of relief. And then I feel selfish. Why shouldn’t Meg have a guy in her life? “Is she another flightattendant?”
“No, we were friends growing up. Before Dad and I moved. You might know her if you read the Finn River Journal.”
I stay away from the news. “That’s cool you two stayed in touch.”
