ME: I’m glad I could help.
I stare at those five words for a full twenty seconds before I finally hit send.
Damn, I suck at this.
Chapter 13
Heather
It’s been a busy week at New Horizons, but the good kind of busy. I’m finishing updating intake forms for three new residents, and that means we’re making a real difference in women’s lives.
I’m still adjusting to the new responsibilities that came with my promotion, but I can genuinely say I love every minute of what I do. Today alone, I’ve helped a woman navigate the maze of housing assistance applications, connected someone else with a job training program, and spent an hour on the phone with a lawyer who is taking on a custody case pro bono.
And it isn’t even lunchtime yet.
The work I do matters. These women matter. And maybe because I’ve been where they are—desperate, scared, and convinced there’s no way forward—I can offer something more than just resources and referrals.
Something like hope and reassurance that they’ve made the right call at the right time, and things will get better from here.
My phone buzzes, and my stomach reacts with that familiar fluttery feeling that’s become almost Pavlovian whenever I see Grant’s name pop up on the screen.
GRANT: I thought you might like this. The Denver Zoo just announced they’re expecting a baby elephant.
Below the message is a link to a news article and a photo of the expectant mother standing majestic and beautiful in the shade of her enclosure.
And because I have zero impulse control when it comes to seeing, talking about, or learning about elephants, I immediately click through to the article.
Elephants have a twenty-two-month gestation period, longer than any other mammal, and this baby isn’t expected until next spring. But the zoo is already making preparations and consulting with specialists from around the world.
I’m not sure if my smile is from reading the article or the fact that Grant not only thought of me but took time out of his day to send me the link. Either way, I’m beaming as I text him back.
ME: That’s so exciting! April is going to be over the moon. I definitely need to plan another zoo trip for her soon.
We’ve settled into an easy rhythm of casual texts over the past few days, whether it’s a funny meme, a question about groceries, or the occasional update about April’s progress at school.
It all feels natural and comfortable and safe, which is exactly what I was hoping for after my mortifying apology in the kitchen. I was so worried that kissing him had somehow ruined everything, but thankfully, it really does seem like we’ve put it all behind us. We’re back to being friendly roommates, nothing more complicated than that.
But even as I have that reassuring thought, a traitorous part of me feels almost disappointed. Because the truth is, that kiss was amazing. The way he took charge and cradled my face like I was the most precious thing in the world made my entire body come alive in a way that it never has before.
His touch did that. He did that.
I shake my head, pushing that particularly wonderful thought to the back of my mind so I can concentrate on the computer screen in front of me. This is exactly the kind of thinking that almost got me into trouble the other night. My wild fantasies got the best of me and the next thing I knew, I was nearly dragging him into the bathtub with me.
For all his bluster and the way he grimaces and frowns at everything, he’s been nothing but generous and kind to April and me. The last thing I need to do is complicate things by getting my feelings involved. Especially because we still have to move out of his house at some point.
I’m trying to get Grant off my mind and concentrate on work, at least for a little while, when I remember I actually do need to text him about something.
ME: I might be slow to answer calls or texts this afternoon. I have a meeting with April’s teacher, and I’m not sure how long it’ll last.
His reply comes quickly.
GRANT: Is everything okay?
ME: I think so. Just a check-in about how she’s adjusting. She’s still having trouble making friends.
GRANT: That’s tough. New schools are hard.
His simple acknowledgment eases some of the tension I’m feeling about the meeting. Because he’s right. New schools are hard. It’s not a problem that’s unique to April or a complete failure on my part as a parent, even though it sometimes feels that way.
