Page 29 of Just One More Thing

“What are you doing?”

“You looked like you needed one less thing to carry.”

My heart gives a stupid little flutter.

“That is extremely annoying of you,” I mumble.

He smiles, small and brief. “I know.”

We keep walking. He shifts a little closer. Not touching, but close enough that I’m aware of the heat of him. Close enough that the watching doesn’t feel quite so sharp.

Just me. Just Jake. Just Hank, snorting like a tiny pig shaped bodyguard.

Mrs. Kravitz appears again somehow, now seated on a bench she absolutely was not on thirty seconds ago.

I squint at her. “Does she teleport?”

“Pretty sure she does.”

We both laugh, and it feels good.

Jake adjusts Hank’s leash and glances down the loop ahead. “Come on,” he says. “Let’s keep walking.”

So I do.

And for one quiet moment, it feels like something I could get used to.

CHAPTER 10

JAKE

By the time we come back around to the split in the loop, Mo slows. One path takes me toward the boathouse. The other takes her back to Holey Moley.

She looks down at Hank first. He’s the safer place to put her attention.

Easier than looking at me when the walk has gone better than either of us probably expected.

And worse too, because now I know exactly how easy it still is with her.

“Hey, Hank the Tank,” she says softly. “Thanks for chaperoning.”

Hank snorts and leans his solid block of body lightly against her shin, accepting the gratitude on behalf of the profession.

I clear my throat. “He takes the job seriously.”

Then she looks up at me, smiling, and I catch enough of the old Mo in it to make something in my chest pull tight.

“Thanks for walking,” she says.

She doesn’t say thanks for not making it weird. Doesn’t say thanks for not asking questions or dragging ten years of silence and one catastrophic thank you into the middle of The Point. Just thanks for walking.

“Anytime,” I say. “If you want.”

She gives me a small nod. The kind that says don’t get ahead of yourself, Wheeler, but maybe don’t disappear either. Then she turns toward Holey Moley.

My hand reaches for her before I can stop it. I catch myself and let it fall.

There was a time when I wouldn’t have thought twice about it. Would’ve bumped her with my shoulder. Would’ve hooked two fingers in the belt loop of her shorts to slow her down. Would’ve reached for her because reaching for her was as normal as breathing.