Page 29 of Holding On

As we hit 131, I call Maya back. Instantly, her voice makes my heart beat harder.

“Hey, I’m moving into the houseboat, but I need a car today to help me get some of my stuff over there. I didn’t come with much, but there are a few things I have that are kind of big. My clothes, my computer and printer. Stuff.”

“You need help moving?”

“I just need a car. I mean, it would be great if you came too. It would be easier with two people.”

“Sure.”

“I know you’re probably tired. It’s a lot to ask, but it would be nice.”

“I said, sure. No worries. I got you.” I take a deep breath when I hang up. Jesus. That girl literally takes my breath away.

Claire smiles at me. “Takes a lot of effort to stay cool, bro?”

“Shut up.”

When we arrive back at the clinic, Laurel is in the side driveway, one hand on her hip, and the other on Cory’s shoulder. He’s waving.

She comes right up to the window. “I’m talking to Audrey. This is ridiculous. We haven’t seen Maya in years, and now she’s going to be twenty minutes away?”

“It’s fine. Let’s not get into her business, okay?” I slam the Jeep door. Both sisters look at me. I smile, but I mean it when I say, “I think we should let her handle it. It’s her life. We don’t need to do the Russo thing where we all jump in.”

“Wow,” says Claire. “I didn’t know that was a thing.”

I put an arm around her shoulders, but her own remain folded across her chest. “Oh, it’s a thing,” I say and kiss the top of her head. I reach down and touch Cory’s chin. He’s working on what looks like some candy corn.

I open the driver’s side and sit down.

“You’re helping her right now?” Claire drops her arms.

“Everything is fine here. Talk amongst yourselves.” This is a line I used to toss off when I was a teenager.

“Are you coming back for dinner?” Claire has shifted into concerned-mother mode.

“Don’t know,” I say. Cory stares at the ground, all candy eating stopped. “I may not be back in time for dinner, but I will be back in time to tell Cory a story.”

He tilts his head in my direction. “In your room?”

“No, buddy, in your room. I’ll stop off at your place around . . .” I raise eyebrows at Laurel.

“Eight. Bedtime,” she answers quickly, not wanting to get sucked into negotiating a different time.

This is a good maneuver. This way, I can’t stay with Maya because I’ll be forced to go.

“Don’t forget you’re on call again tonight.” Claire checks her wristwatch. “You go live at nine. I’ll cover till then.”

“Got it,” I say. “No problem.”

***

During the short car ride to the marina, Maya stays pretty silent, though I swear she appreciates the faux wood paneling. “A classic,” is all she says, nestling herself down in the front seat and staring out the window. The late summer light turns her skin golden, and the sky behind her lies purple. Every time I glance over at her, all I see is the curve of her cheek and jawline.

“Rough day?” I try.

She scoots up in her seat and puts her hands in her lap, interlocking her fingers. “Sorry. It’s just harder than I thought.”

Pointing to the slip where Carlson’s boat is moored, she loses no time getting out of the car and fishing the largest bags out of the back of the station wagon.