Page 33 of Retrofit Analysis

I don’t know if Lisa is entirely right, or if Orla had fair points. “We do live across the street from each other,” I say, quietly. “If things go belly up, it could get very awkward. I really should have thought more about this. Jake is invested now.”

I think about the last time Kellen and I parted ways. Nothing was dramatic. Nothing was heart rending. We both…moved. Not just moved on, but literally moved. It’s easy to not be awkward around someone when you don’t see them for 30 years.

I’m about to open up this line of discussion when I hear a knock at my front door. Kellen, I think. Who else would knock on the door in the evening like this? “Maybe it’s the paper boy,” Lisa says, and I realize I’ve said that last bit out loud. “Just kidding. It’s obviously him. Go talk to him. Call me tomorrow. Remember the cave grease.”

“Ugh, Lisa, it’s not grease.”

“Bye!”

I pad to the front door in my slipper and walking boot. Sure enough, Kellen stands illuminated by the porch light whose bulb he helped change the other day. He’s right, the warm glow makes everyone look friendlier.

“Hey,” he says when I open the door.

I pull it all the way open and tilt my head toward the living room. “Come inside.”

Kellen shakes his head. “I just came over to invite you on a bike ride,” he says, grinning.

I haven’t ridden a bike since well before I was pregnant with Jake. “I don’t know if I remember how,” I admit, slumping a bit against the door frame.

“Isn’t there a saying about that,” he jokes. He reaches out a hand and rubs mine with his thumb. “I was thinking about it, because I really want to go for a long walk with you, or a hike, but we’ve both got bum feet. But we could ride on the bike path, I think.”

The podiatrist had mentioned cycling as a good opportunity for me to get some cardio without putting too much strain on my stress fracture. Even said I could take the boot off for something like that. I just hadn’t given it any thought because I don’t have a bike. Seeming to anticipate this argument, Kellen hooks a thumb over his shoulder and points at the garage. “I’ve still got Orla’s bike in there. And Callum owes me some favors, so I thought I’d ask him to give mine and hers a tune up. What do you say?”

From the pocket of my sweater, I hear Lisa’s voice blurt out, “Yes. She says yes. I’ll hang with Jake. He can come sleep over with Dhruv!”

“Oh my god.” I frantically reach in my sweater and my hands shake as I pull out the phone I evidently didn’t hang up properly when I walked to the door. Kellen laughs as I stab at the red icon to end the call. “That was my friend Lisa.”

“I gathered,” he says. He puts his hands in his jeans pocket and grins, and the dim warm light seems to transform him into a teenager again rather than the silver haired, mature man he’s grown into. “So what do you say?”

“I just…isn’t it bad form for me to borrow Orla’s bike? After what happened this evening?”

Kellen shakes his head. “If Orla wanted her bike, she’d have it in the storage unit in her apartment building. And she wasn’t upset about you this evening, Elizabeth. You have to know that. I think there are some grief emotions coming up for her that she didn’t anticipate.”

I nod, and bite my lip, uncertain. “She’s not entirely wrong about things being intense, though,” I say, my voice trailing off.

Kellen nods right back at me. “I can handle intense, Beth. So what do you say to a bike ride with me?”

I wish he’d kiss me, but know he won’t tonight. And that’s not what he asked, anyway. “I guess it’s a date,” I tell him.

He pumps his fist in triumph. “Yes,” he says. “I was hoping you’d say that.” Laughing, he kisses my knuckles and I feel the familiar tingle, the sense of flying and falling at once. “Talk to you soon,” he says, and he heads down the steps, favoring his hurt foot as he walks home. And even in the semidarkness, the warm glow of that bulb he recommended shows off his lean, muscular frame.

Yes, I think. I can savor this nice thing in my life. For once, I can enjoy something without having to worry about the fallout. I’m going to ride that damn bicycle, I decide, and I’m going to ride Kellen Brady, too.

Twenty-Six

Kellen

My nephew shows up late. I don’t like this. I know my way around a bike just fine, but that’s not the point. I didn’t specify that I was on a schedule for today, and that’s not the point either. I did ask if he could be here by eight and he’d said yes. In our family, we prioritize each other.

“Cal, you’re looking rough, son.” His eyes are a little bloodshot and he doesn’t seem to have showered. “Things going okay in your new apartment?”

He sighs. “It’s a condo, Uncle Kel. That’s what Logan keeps insisting we call it. Drives me freaking insane. Anyway, I’m sorry I’m late. I don’t want to be that guy.”

I feel relieved with his apology. “Thanks for being here, Cal.”

He nods and walks a lap around the two bikes in the garage, considering. “These haven’t seen the light of day in a long time, huh? You going out with Orla?”

Callum starts oiling the chains on the bikes, checking out the brake cables and muttering as he struggles with an Allen wrench. “You never answered me, Unc. So I’m guessing it’s not Orla, considering she’s with Liam en route to Kentucky to present to the power line people.”