“So how do you want to do this?” she asked, her tone business-like to hide how much she wanted to give him a big, old bear hug. “Do you have a plan on where to start, or just dive in?”
His mouth straightened to a grim line. She’d been too panicked about how she looked this morning to appreciate the smile he’d given her when he first saw her this morning. She wanted to rewind time and sit in that moment.
“You had a good plan. Let’s keep the three piles system: give away, keep, and toss out.” He cut open a box and peered inside with a hesitant expression.
“Do you care if I start over here?” She wanted to be near the banana bread, but if he needed her close, she’d save her second slice for later.
“I know you need to work.” He rubbed his beard, leaving behind some of the dust from the box, making him look like he had a handful of gray hairs. This was going to get messy.
“I’ll do it this afternoon.” Sitting in her bedroom and writing had almost no appeal to her right now.
“I don’t want to pull you from stuff you need to do,” he said, but he sounded too relieved for her to fully believe him.
“I’m writing an easy chapter today.” She snagged the scissors from him to open a box. It would have been helpful if Asher’s grandpa had labeled them. If there was a rhyme or reason to his methods, she didn’t have a clue what it was.
“What’s your chapter on?” He pulled out a bag of tangled yarn and held it up for her to see. “What do you think?”
Her nose wrinkled. “I’m tempted to trash it. That looks unsalvageable.”
He threw it into the corner and started their official trash pile.
“I’m writing a chapter on the mental benefits of having a pet.”
He snorted.
“It’s true!” She tossed a single, rolled up sock from her box at him. It hit him in the side of his head, and he looked up with a puzzled expression before his lips quirked to the side. Almost a smile, but not quite.
This box was filled with odds and ends—worn out hand towels, a yellowed lacy pillow case, multiple unmatched socks, several tote bags with grocery store labeling on them.
“Studies show that pet owners live longer. Also, petting a dog or cat releases endorphins and can help with depression and anxiety.” She riffled through the box to see if any of it was worth keeping. Nope. She cut into the next box.
“What about petting a turtle?” He pulled items out of his box one by one and studied each from every angle. His appeared to be filled with half-completed craft projects and crusty art supplies.
“Studies are still ongoing in this field,” she said. This box was filled with mostly-new towels. She set them aside into a keep pile. “I haven’t found anything specific to turtles yet, but most of the studies use the wording of ‘pets’ or ‘animals’ and theydofall into that category.”
“What about the adverse effects of losing an animal?”
Her heart thumped in sadness. There was that grief again. He wasn’t looking at her, but instead studying what appeared to be a doll with half of its hair ripped out. He definitely picked the short straw when it came to boxes.
“It’s devastating,” she said, “and no one but you can decide if the benefits of having a loving pet can outweigh that part of it.”
His phone buzzed several times, but he ignored it.
“Aren’t you curious who’s messaging you?” she finally asked.
“There’s no one I care to hear from.”
It buzzed several more times, and her curiosity spiked. “Someone really wants to get a hold of you.”
He sighed and held out his hand. She grabbed his phone from the counter and leaned over as far as she could, until their hands touched, and he grabbed the phone.
“Don, Harry, Smitty, Walt, and your grandma are all asking if I feel okay.”
“Oh. That’s super sweet.”
“It is.” Another text came in, and he frowned. “Your grandma wants my address so she can bring by some soup.”
“Soup is one of Grandma Winnie’s love languages.”
