She brushes away the tear that made a slow fall down my cheek. That smooth, soft glide of her thumb tugs like a hook in my belly, pulling me inevitably closer to her. She runs her hand to the nape of my neck, trailing the backs of her fingers there in small strokes, soothing with her slow touches. Giving me permission to cry, maybe. Letting me know she doesn’t judge my grief.
Slowly, she leans closer against me, bracketing me between the hand on my neck and the other on my chest right over my heart. Those soft touches are agonizing enough, but the soft press of her lips against my jaw just about does me in. She kisses my cheek like she can stitch my heart back together, soothing the ache with a balm of her own invention.
She starts to slip away, but I don’t want to lose her so quickly. I turn my face until my mouth meets hers in a gentle slide. My fingers drift through her hair to hold her to me as though if I don’t, she might float away. I recognize the terrible timing, where we are—but I want this soft moment with her.
Sweet, chaste kisses pass between us, like she’s giving me comfort in every one. Reminding me she’s here for me. I’m not alone in this. I press my forehead to hers and breathe her in, gratitude for her tonight filling me up to overflowing.
The sound of the door latch pulls us apart. We watch each other in the dim porch light, both of us probably looking less than totally casual as the stone yard owner and his wife leave the house. They turn at the front steps, but if anything looks amiss between us, they don’t show it.
“Goodnight, you two.” They walk down the path to the sidewalk and are gone.
We sit for a minute, my pulse thrumming in my ears, my heart torn in two directions at once.
Hope pushes the blanket off of her shoulders. “I should probably go, too.”
I want to persuade her to stay, but I need to get back inside with Caleb and Mom. I’d promised them I wouldn’t hide out tonight, and I had anyway. I have no regrets, but I can’t avoid our guests inside much longer.
“I’ll walk you to your car.”
We cross the yard and turn the corner in silence. Her hand slips against mine like a tentative question. I hold onto her even though I’m not entirely sure of the right answer.
She stops in front of a red Jeep Cherokee. “This is me.”
“Thanks for coming tonight.”
“Thanks for letting me share a few memories.”
She moves into my space, arms wide, and I pull her to me. Has anyone else ever felt so perfect against me? I can’t remember. Can’t think of anything but the sweetness of Hope’s arms around me. Once again, she’s giving me comfort I hadn’t known I needed.
She finally draws back, brushing dark hair away from her face. “You don’t have to work on the Wonderland stuff this weekend, okay?”
Her offer feels awfully close to a pity smile. “Are you going to be working on it?”
“Some of the time, yeah.”
“Then I’ll be there, too.”
Her frown almost makes me laugh, which probably would earn me something worse than just a frown.
“Seriously. You’ve done so much work this week, you deserve a break.”
I hitch a shoulder. “My boss gave me a key so I can work when it’s convenient.”
After the Doubting Duo laid out their concerns about Hope’s success, I can’t just sit on my hands all weekend. When Caleb and I get back from fishing tomorrow morning, I plan to head over to the warehouse to get a few more hours in at least.
I’m not working on this project to satisfy my mom anymore, and it isn’t for kids who still believe in Santa Claus. It’s all for Hope.
“Okay, well. Don’t overdo it.”
“I’ll be careful not to strain my back.”
Her frown morphs into a laugh. “Goodnight, Griffin.”
“Goodnight, boss.”
SIXTEEN
HOPE
