The men are good company, but living with them isn’t the same as spending time with a woman friend.
“Maybe,” I say instead, wishing I could explain.
Grizz clears his throat and taps my shoulder. “We should get moving, Jennifer.”
“Right.” I smile at Elena again and wave at her son. “It was nice to meet you both.”
“You too!” the boy chirps before turning his attention to the clinic door. “Mom, if I’m good, can we get hot chocolate after?”
“We’ll see,” she says. Then to me, “Take care.”
“You too,” I say, then let Grizz lead me down the sidewalk.
Moon Ridge’s general store seems to be trying to be everything to everyone in town. A one-stop shop for groceries, hardware, sporting goods, clothing, and even craft supplies, with its shelves and displays crowded with items, somehow fitting everything in a relatively small space.
Atlas and Viper are there, a basket between them, moving with the determined efficiencyof men on a supply run. I imagine them following an orderly mental shopping list, and I’ll bet neither of them ever caves to an impulse item.
Viper clocks our arrival the second we walk in, his gaze flicking to me, then Grizz. A quick scan. No threat, no problem.
“All okay?” Atlas asks.
I give him a thumbs-up. The men often communicate with hand signals, and I seem to be picking up their habits.
“All except for a kid with no brakes,” Grizz says, earning a curious look from Atlas.
“A boy almost ran into me when we were coming out of the clinic,” I explain, “but Grizz’s reflexes prevented an accident.”
Atlas nods before looking to Grizz for confirmation that there was no threat. After silent communication passes between the two men, Atlas nods again.
“We’re restocking basics,” Atlas says. “Anything you want, speak up.”
I shake my head. “You’ve already bought me enough.”
“We bought you what you needed. Today, get what youwant.”
I don’t bother arguing, because it won’t do any good. Instead, I follow along as they move through the aisles, watching Grizz get into a passionate debate with Viper about canned chili versus stew. I drift slightly behind, fascinated by the store’s selection and by the men I’m with.
The three of them fit in perfectly with the rough and rugged environment at the compound. Here in town, they stand out. They’re all so masculine and handsome, they draw the eye without trying. The shop’s narrow aisles accentuate how tall and broad the three are, and their competence is made plain in the purposeful way they move through the store.
Of course, I already knew they were exceptional men, but seeing them in a different environment makes it even more obvious.
When we turn into the next aisle, I spot yarn. A decent-sized section of it, tucked between cleaning products and school supplies. Skeins in every color, from dusty pinks and sunshiney yellows to bright blues and mossy greens.
As soon as I slow to look, the men come to a stop as a unit.
“Do you knit?” Atlas asks.
“Crochet. My mom taught me when I was young. After she passed, I used to make things when I was sad or stressed.”
He looks at the yarn selection, then back at me. “Want to get some?”
“I shouldn’t.” I bite my lip. “I don’t really need it.”
Viper’s voice is low but resolute. “Mental health is a priority. Get some.”
Grizz picks up a pastel pink yarn. “This one will be perfect.”
The other two men notice the special smile on my face and move in close, forming a huddle around me. “Are you saying—?” Atlas asks.
