“They’re gone,” she cries out, her pouty face intact.
Jesus Christ. “Let me double-check. It might have changed.”
I switch to Maven’s favorite station and groan when a One Direction song conveniently comes blasting through my speakers.
So much for Bob Dylan.
My little girl always wins.
Kids are jumping out of cars, backpacks strapped to them, and running toward the group of others congregated in front of the clubhouse. Maven has already said her good-byes and taken off with her friends.
I lean back against my truck and slide my hands into the pockets of my jeans. My parents sent us kids to Camp Maganaw, and I never failed to have a blast. My attention goes straight to Bear Claw Cabin. It’s been updated with a fresh slab of paint and a new door, but the memories I have in that cabin will always be there. Lucy and I had our first kiss behind Bear Claw after sneaking out one night.
“Dallas, how are you holding up?”
I briefly glance over when Cindy stops at my side and copies my stance. Cindy and I went to high school together, and she was Lucy’s hairdresser. She married the quarterback, had a baby, and then divorced the cheating drunk a few years ago.
I move dirt with the toe of my boot. “As good as I can be, I guess.”
A breath bursts from her lips. “I get it. It’s hard. I never thought I’d be with anyone other than Phil, but I’ve learned that the best way to heal is by moving on.”
I ram my heel into the ground as anger flushes through me. “A divorce and death are not fucking worthy of comparison,” I grind out.
I bite my tongue to stop myself from telling her what wants to come out. Cindy was one of the casserole-and-muffin-making chicks who checked up on me daily in the weeks after losing Lucy. I finally had to put a stop to it after the third week.
If she believes finding someone else with help, more power to her, but I won’t be the man to do it … and she sure as hell isn’t replacing Lucy.
“You know, you’re a jackass. I’m sorry if my concern for you and your daughter eating makes you so rattled,” she snaps.
“I told you I appreciated the meals, but they weren’t necessary. I don’t need help feeding my daughter. We both know your concern wasn’t making sure we had hot meals twice a day.”
She slumps back against the truck. “So, it’s true then?”
“What’s true?”
Her concern has switched to annoyance. “You and the new chick in town have something going on?”
My eyes stay pinned to her.
“Stella’s friend,” she clarifies, annoyed.
“The hell you hear that?” I ask with a scoff.
“We all saw it at the fair—to my surprise, considering, months ago, you made it clear you weren’t interested in dating, period.”
“I’m not dating anyone.” I pause and pinch my lips together. “Not that it’s anyone’s fucking business.”
A rush of red storms her cheeks. “Asshole,” she mutters before turning around and stomping to her car.
Two days have passed since the fair fiasco, and communication with Willow has been limited and vague. Phone calls go unanswered. Text messages consists of one word. I’ve never received so many K and Cool responses.
That’s changing today.
It’s our first doctor’s appointment. I texted Willow the details after scheduling it and waited for the argument I knew was coming, but surprisingly, she agreed … with a fucking K.
I park my truck and wait until she walks out of her apartment before jumping out and joining her on the sidewalk.
“Nuh-uh,” she says. “I’m driving myself.”
“No one is driving,” I reply. “It’s a five-minute walk. I thought we’d enjoy the stroll.”
She pinches her lips together, and her shoulder smacks against mine when she bursts past me and down the sidewalk. “I’ll pass.”
She pushes when I pull.
I pull when she pushes.
One of us is always resisting when the other comes forward.
I speed-walk to keep up with her. “Come on. The weather is perfect. Let’s save the environment and conserve gas, not pollute the air. Walking with me will save the world.”
My humanity-saving argument doesn’t stop her, and I nearly miss her mocking me, an uneven smile on her lips. I don’t hold back my shit-eating grin when she passes her car and keeps walking. I stay a few steps behind and let her believe she’s getting her way until it happens.
I rush forward when she trips on her feet, falling forward, her knees almost hitting the concrete while her lips are close to kissing the sidewalk. I stretch my arm out to capture her around the waist, and she yelps as I steady her. Instead of breaking my hold when she’s stable, I tighten my grip, my fingers sinking into the cotton of her Girl Power T-shirt, and stare down at her.
I wait for her to pull out of my hold and tell me never to touch her again. She does none of that. She stays still, catching her breath, and shakes her head.
“Really?” she mutters. “So damn cliché. I fall, and you catch me.”
I can’t help but chuckle at the actuality of her words. “Just like in the movies.”
I release my hold on her waist but move my hand to her elbow just in case.
“You’re nervous,” I say.
I run my hand up and down her arm in an attempt to calm her nerves. I don’t know what has her riled up more—her almost fall, us touching, or this appointment.
She pulls out of my hold with a grimace and runs her hand down her long hair. “No shit, Sherlock.”
“Anything I can do to help?”
“Not come.”
“Anything I can do but that?”
Her hands start shaking, and I turn so that I’m standing in front of her. She attempts to maneuver around me, but I take a step over. She tries the other side. I do the same thing.
“Breathe. Relax.” I inhale and exhale a few times in hopes that she’ll follow my lead. She does. “Everything is going to be okay, I promise. If you feel uncomfortable, we’ll leave.”
We do this for a good five minutes, and she sniffles while calming down. “These damn pregnancy hormones are going to be the end of my sanity.”
I smile. “I wish I could say they get better, but from what I’ve witnessed, they don’t.” I move out of her way and settle my hand on the arch of her back when she starts walking again.
“Then, I’d be careful not to piss me off.”
“That’s been my goal since day one.”
I’ve been sucking ass at it though.
She sniffles again. “You need to work harder.”
Thought confirmed.
I move my arm up and wrap it around her shoulders, bringing her to my side, hoping she doesn’t pull away. This isn’t sexual. It’s something you do to a friend having a bad day.
“Come on, I can’t have you showing up to the doctor in tears. My mom would have my ass if she found out. Give me something I can do to calm you down.”
“Punching you might work.”
I break our connection to move back in front of her and start walking backward. “If being your punching bag helps, then have at it.” I throw my arms out and gesture for her to take a swing.