“Hey, Bentley.” One of the Feinberg boys from three houses down rode his bike through the yard. “Want to hang out? My mom made brownies.”
Bentley closed his book while shoving the last of his brat in his mouth. He started to dash away until Caleb called, “No, you may not.”
“Why not?”
“First, you ask. Second, did you pick up your clothes and towel after your shower?” Caleb heard echoes of his own dad in that question. And Bentley wasn’t even his kid.
“Be right back.”
The Feinberg kid munched on chips while Bentley thundered through the house—Caleb could hear him all the way to the patio. When he burst out of the kitchen door, he grabbed Caleb’s old bike from the porch and said, “Can I go?”
“Home by eight.”
“I picked up my stuff,” he said, riding off. “You should unpack your boxes.”
“Hey, I’m the adult around here.”
But the boy wasn’t wrong.
After cleaning up dinner, Caleb left the porch light on for Bentley, then headed into the living room with a glance at his boxes—when did Bentley use them for a fort?
He found a good game of college basketball—Ohio State was up on Purdue by ten in the second half. Was Emery watching? He glanced at the time. Seven thirty. She was probably at the paper. He started a text, then deleted it. He had more confidence with girls at sixteen than at thirty-two. Maybe he should heed Lizzie’s advice. Seek help.
But deep down, he already knew the answer. Emery. She’d been in the back of his mind since the summer they met. When she left, she took a piece of his heart. He was soaking in this revelation when someone knocked on his door and the Ohio State point guard knocked down a three-point buzzer beater at the half.
Emery stood on the porch in a pair of jeans and hoodie, her hair in a braid.
“Can we go for a walk or something? I mean, if you’re not busy.” She buried her hands in her pocket, shivering. “I’m sorry to barge in on you like this, but I didn’t know where else to go. I knocked on Delilah’s cottage, but she was out.”
“You can bother me anytime, Em.” He pulled her in for a hug. “What’s wrong?”
“My sister is getting cold feet about marriage. She’s panicking. We went round and round.... Then I had to get to the paper. I wrote my story, worked through Kadasha’s photos. She’s amazing. Put the paper to bed and went to the cottage to check on Ava. She’s sleeping. So I took a shower and came here.” She leaned away from him to see inside. “Who’s playing?”
“Your Buckeyes.” Caleb stepped aside to let her in. “Let me get my jacket. Unless you want to watch the game? It’s halftime.”
“I can’t sit. I need to move, walk, talk. How did the rest of mural painting go?”
“We accomplished everything Lulu wanted. People came by all day to check it out. A lot wanted to help. There’s buzz about improvements for the East End. And your boy here stayed on the scaffold the whole time.”
She laughed softly through her tired expression. “I’m impressed.”
“Come on, let’s go out the back.”
“Where’s Bentley?” Emery said, exiting the kitchen onto the porch.
“With a neighborhood kid. He’s finally making friends.”
They walked up Pelican Way and through the cold night warmly lit with the glow of houses and streetlamps.
He stopped by the Feinbergs to tell Bentley where he was going.“But at eight, head to your grandparents. Got it?”
“Got it.” He looked up at Emery. “Going walking? That’s old-fashioned. You kids have fun.”
“What was that about?” Emery said as they started off again.
“Bentley being eleven. By the way, he thinks you’re good-looking. Not pretty or beautiful, but good-looking.”
“Oh, how nice of him to notice. Tell him thanks. I think. Is good-looking cool to an eleven-year-old?”
