Page 71 of Love Expert

Where could she be?

Why won’t she talk to me?

I thought things changed for the better on Saturday!?

On Wednesday evening, I step out of my house with a steaming cup of coffee—the decaf kind, so I don’t destroy my sleep tonight—and wandering all the way to the porch railing, I set the mug down and take out my phone. Resting my elbows on the rail, I unlock the screen and navigate to the text thread she started a little over a week ago.

The onesheinsisted we have.

Instead of something sweet sitting in my inbox—likegood morning, orhow was your day?—I find more dating profiles I don’t want to read. More women she’d like to foist me toward. More love matches she seems intent on creating.

Even after that thing we did Saturday night…

I texted her on Sunday with a simple:come outside and hang with me.

She replied with a bio of a woman named Karina Taylor.

On Monday, I texted:Jeremy misses you. He asked if he could come stand at the boundary garden and scream your name for a little while.

It was me. I missed her. But my son would never pass up an opportunity to do the boundary-garden thing, so I saidsure, buddy. Have at it.

She didn’t come outside. But she replied with a new bio. Samantha Rhodes.

On Tuesday, I texted a weather warning, since a shitty storm was predicted to roll through the next day—today—and it would be her first since coming back to Plainview. I didn’t want her driving in those conditions.

Shethumbs uppedthat one, and then she sent another bio. Sadie Brown.

I thought we’d turned a corner on the weekend, like maybe we could explore what we’d started. But now, I think the only corner involved in our lives is the one she hightailed it around in her effort to run and hide.

I glance up at the ugly gray clouds and sigh as a clap of thunder booms through the sky, then I glance to the left again and study her driveway.

Empty.

“Dad!” Jeremy charges down the stairs inside, risking his life and an emergency trip to the ER, but he doesn’t give a shit. My boy isterrifiedof storms, and a night spent in the emergency room is still better than the prospect of being alone inside while the skies open above our house. I stay put, brace myself for the impact, and a single second later, I peek toward the front door as he bursts through with wide, petrified eyes.

He slams into my legs, not the same boy who faked drowning a fewnights ago to get Maggie’s attention. He’s not the same boy who flirts with a grown woman, or shares his hidden bag of chips. He’s not even the same boy who shows off over at the Love and War Gym, learning how to fight under Eliza Darling’s tutelage.

No.ThisJeremy burrows between my legs and the solid porch railing, wrapping his arms around my stomach, and crushing his skull against the hardwood frame behind him.

“I don’t like these storms, Dad.” He trembles all over, moisture transferring from his cheeks to my shirt. “Ihatethem.”

“I know, buddy.” I lock my phone without texting Maggie to hurry home. Without thebe safemessage I wish didn’t feel weird to send. Instead, I slip the device into my pocket and lean back far enough to search his splotchy face. “You wanna hop up?”

His eyes, large and green and welling with tears, splinter my heart. “You don’t think I’m too big?”

“Too big to get up?”

“I’m a man,” he whimpers, swiping a shaky hand beneath his nose. “Men don’t let their dads pick them up anymore.”

“I would let anybody pick me up. If they could,” I chuckle. Leaving my coffee where it is, I grab him under the arms and lift him up, but instead of sitting him on my hip like I used to do when he was smaller, I set his butt on the porch railing and loop my arm around his back. I stand between his legs, close enough that he can rest his face on my chest. “You know, being a man doesn’t mean you can’t be scared sometimes. It doesn’t mean you can’t hug people, or cry a little bit.”

His breath comes out on a bouncing exhale. “It doesn’t?”

“It’s the opposite, actually. Being a man means being brave enough to acknowledge how you feel, and surrounding yourself with people who can help you when you’re down. Later, when you’re feeling brave and maybe those other people are having a tough time, then you get to be the person who helps.” I smooth his hair down and drop a kiss on the top of his head. “I wouldn’t care if you were fifteen or twenty-five. If you need a hug, I hope you come to me.”

“I wish Maggie was here. Her hugs feel better.”

I bark out a laugh that hovers somewhere between humor and desperation. “I wouldn’t know. Maggieneverhugs me.”