Over there, what would keep him drifting away, like an unanchored boat at sea?
Asher successfully avoided Eliana for several days. So successfully, in fact, he was beginning to suspect that she was avoiding him too.
Which shouldn’t bother him.
But the problem was he wasn’t sleeping well. Every time he closed his eyes, he pictured a flash of hurt crossing Eliana’s face. He didn’t know how to bridge the gap between them and get back to the tentative place of friendship they’d broached that night playing the question-answer game.
So he worked late, swam late, and slept—or, more accurately, tossed and turned—as late as he could. Avoidance always had been his problem-solving method of choice.
Grandpa had been the kind of person who addressed his issues with people head-on. In so many ways, Asher fell short of being like Grandpa. Was it so surprising that this was yet another way?
Asher needed to bake something delicious. He needed space for his mind to work out how to solve this problem. He imagined chocolate banana bread with a sugar crumb crust on top. He’d picked up bananas nearly a week ago, and they were perfect for baking with.
He listened closely but couldn’t hear Eliana. Most likely, she was holed up in her bedroom, working on her book. The scent of bread might draw her out to the kitchen, but he didn’t know whether he wanted that or dreaded it.
He washed his hands in his bathroom and combed his hair back. It had been a minute since his last haircut or beard trim. Maybe it was time to get in with the barber.
Maybe it’s time to stop hiding.
He left his bedroom and paused in front of Eliana’s door, listening for the clacking of her keyboard. It was silent. Maybe she’d left. She seemed to have one family responsibility or another every day. He tried not to wonder too much what that might be like.
Annoying probably.
But the good kind of annoying, where you rolled your eyes and groaned, but still smiled and felt good about helping.
He moved down the hall quickly, not seeing Eliana also rounding the corner into the hallway until too late.
“Oof!” He plowed into her, all six-foot three of him, and she flew into a stack of boxes right beside the hallway entrance. He snagged her arm to keep her from falling, but the damage was already done.
Like dominoes toppling one by one, the stacks of boxes fell.
“Louisa!” Eliana’s eyes went wide with panic, and she raced into the dining room, where the boxes had fallen onto the kitchen table. “She was on here.”
His stomach dropped, and he jumped over and stepped on boxes as he rushed toward the table, which was buried under a mound of boxes. “I’m so sorry,” he said, out of breath, throwing boxes as far across the room as he could in order to get to the table.
He might not like animals, but he never, ever wanted to see one hurt. Eliana’s face was bone white.
None of these boxes were light, but Eliana managed to throw off as many as him, until they finally got to where he saw a corner of the turtle’s habitat. The corners of the plastic box were scrunched down, and from this angle, he couldn’t tell if a box had fallen into the habitat or not.
“It’s here,” he said. “I’ll hold this box up and you grab it.”
She rushed to his side, her hair brushing against his arm as she reached around him and pulled out Louisa’s habitat. The minute it was free, he dropped the box and took the habitat from her, so she could reach in for Louisa.
“She’s okay. She has to be okay,” Eliana said over and over again as she held the turtle, still burrowed in her shell, up to her nose. Suddenly she swayed. “I’m dizzy.”
She shot out a hand and reached out for Asher’s arm. He hadn’t seen anything hit her head. Hopefully it was just the adrenaline.
“Take Louisa. I don’t want to drop her.” She thrust the turtle into his. He held it, frozen. With Eliana hanging on one arm, and the turtle in his free hand, he was afraid to move. They both felt impossibly fragile.
The turtle poked its head out from its shell and turned to look at Asher, blinking lazy eyes at him as if to ask if he knew what he was doing.
No, turtle. I don’t.
“Let’s go to the couch,” he told Eliana. He looked at the massacre of boxes and then at Eliana. “How do you feel about a piggy back ride?”
She made a face. “Not great.” But she looked out at the boxes and sighed. “Can you crouch or something. I can’t hop that high.”
He bent down and she climbed onto his back, her arms coming around his neck, her fresh scent enveloping him.
