Fenella
The apartment door opens and Laird walks in.My mouth parts a little, my eyes widen.My forehead tightens as he steps inside while I’m putting just-washed fruit into the fridge.I glance at the clock on the table.It’s two p.m.
“Fenella,” he says in that low voice of his.
He comes straight to the kitchen.I set my glass of water on the dining table.His face looks different today.There’s a hint of a smile, but his eyes are dark, unreadable, like he’s holding something behind them.
“You’re home early,” I say with a soft laugh.
He drops his backpack on the floor and wraps his arms around me.His whole body towers over mine, warm and steady as he pulls me in.I blink, but I don’t pull away.My arms stay around his back.
“What’s wrong?”I whisper into his ear.
By now I know this kind of hug.Whenever something hits him, good or bad, he always comes here.To me.To us.He once said hugs flip a switch in his brain that forces happy chemicals out, like a reflex.
He doesn’t answer.He loosens his hold and looks at me, eyes still shadowed.His hands stay warm on my arms.“Did you eat your lunch course?”he asks quietly.
I sigh with a little snort.“Yeah, but I only ate a piece of that canapé and a bite of the meat.And I bet it’s overpriced.”
“That’s it?”he frowns.
“Now that you say it, I’m starving.Did you eat?”
We don’t talk about this afternoon.Not Hugo Evans.Not a hint of it.Maybe he’s not ready, and like always with him, I wait until he brings it up.
“How about we go out to eat?”he says.
“Perfect.What’re you thinking?”I rest both hands on his chest.
“How about…” Laird cups my face with both hands and looks into my eyes.“We grab burgers down the street and eat them in the park.”
“Oh, that’s a brilliant idea.I love it.”I kiss him.
His hands stay on my face.His lips stay on mine.He doesn’t let me go.We stand there in the kitchen, kissing softly, warm and slow.
My hands settle on his firm chest.I can feel his heartbeat under my palm.I’m just grateful we’re alive.
“Laird,” I whisper, pulling back a little.
“Hm?”
“Take me to the bed?”
“Hm, no.”
I frown.“Why?”
“I wanna eat in the park with you.That’s why.”He kisses my cheek, breathes in deep, and steps back.“Come on.”He takes my hand and leads me out of the apartment.
That is rare.Usually, he doesn’t turn it down when we have the chance.Something in him feels different today, but not in a bad way.My chest tightens for a second, a flicker of fear I wish I could ignore.What if his dad messed with his head again?
But his gestures stay calm, steady, grounding.And there’s this strange inner peace in his eyes, like he’s holding something big.His hand wraps around mine, firm and reassuring.It makes me trust him, whatever comes next.
We grab burgers, Coke, and fries and sit under a shady tree in the park.I sink into the grass against his side, feeling the warmth of his arm around my waist.We’re always happy watching the dry grass turn green, a sign spring is coming.A sign of hope.
The air’s still cold and windy, but at least it’s not raining the way it did last night.Our food’s gone now, nothing left but crumpled wrappers inside the paper bag.We’ll throw them out when we leave, but neither of us wants to get up yet.We wanna stay and soak in the quiet afternoon.
Far ahead, small kids run onto the field.They start tossing the ball and warming up before their Little League coach shows.
