I briefly consider hiding behind my hands or running to the bathroom, but my body is too drained. It’s a wonder I’m still standing at all.
Slowly, the world around me comes into focus and I realize there’s a distant ringing in the cabin. Igive him a questioning look.
Theo’s hands drop from my face. “That’s my alarm that I need to get going,” he says but doesn’t move to leave. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think you should say that the bookshop is a pipe dream. If anyone could do it, it’s you.”
I scoff. I’m about as qualified for that as I am for space travel.
“I meant what I said at Maddox’s.” His voice is measured and deliberate. “Once you set your mind to something, you’re unstoppable.”
Just like last night, those words make me want to hide under a rock. He has no idea what he’s talking about—that couldn’t be further from the truth.
I set down the photos and wipe my eyes. “Theo, that’s... not true at all.”
His alarm is still ringing in the bedroom, but he doesn’t seem to care. He cups my elbows, capturing my gaze. “Do you remember when you were eleven and your parents put up that rope swing over the pond? Your sisters, Mia, and I played on it all day, and the entire time, you stood on that platform, trying to work up the nerve to jump.”
I frown. “Yeah, I was...amafraid of heights.”
He smiles softly. “But even after we’d all gotten out and dried off, you were still up there.”
All four of them lined the dock in their towels, eating hot dogs on paper plates, waiting for me. Iwas terrified—feet sweating, palms clammy, heart racing—but I wanted so badly to be able to jump. Just like them.
Millie and Tessa tried to convince me to come down—said it was okay if I couldn’t do it. Mia whispered that she wouldn’t tell anyone at school. Mom brought me a plate with a hot dog that sat untouched. Dad told me he’d build a slide instead if I thought that would be easier.
But Theo didn’t give me an out.You can do it. Just take a deep breath and jump, he coached from the dock, patient and steadfast.
His thumbs glide over my arms. “And what did you do?” he prods.
“Jumped.” I can still feel that stomach-dropping, breathtaking leap. The way the cool water crashed over my head, and I squealed beneath the surface, bubbles dancing in front of my face. When I got out, Theo was beaming.
He is now too. “I knew you would. Once you set your mind to it, it was a done deal.”
That unwavering confidence makes my stomach twist, and it’s not entirely uncomfortable. However: “You can’t compare a rope swing jump to starting an entire business. They’re not on the same playing field at all.”
“And yet I believe in you even more now,” he insists, sounding so certain that it’s almost convincing. “You just need the right motivation.”
“And where do I find that?”
With a cocky grin, he gestures to himself. “Isn’t that the role we were playing for each other in high school?”
As I study his mocha eyes, something shifts in my worldview. All through high school—the prime of my life as far as accomplishments and achievements—Theo was there, pushing me to keep going, whether it was intentional or not.
Our only interactions back then were full of sharp looks and verbal jabs. We were subtly and not-so-subtly celebrating and gloating about our wins. But, in a way, it became addicting to see the light that sparked in Theo’s eyes in those moments. The rest of the time, he looked like he was going through life in a fog—barely awake and distracted constantly. Iused to watch his hollow expression and wish I knew how to get through tohim.
When we were sparring over grades and class elections, though, he wasthere. Alive. Engaged. He seemed like himself again for those short interactions.
Maybe I was motivating him somehow too.
“I need to go,” he says with an apologetic half grin. “But I did get the drywall done. Later this week, I’ll work on the finishing touches.”
“Okay,” I whisper, my emotions raw and bumbling. Iwatch him leave the kitchen, then the alarm quiets in the bedroom. Knocks curls himself around my ankles as I place the pictures back in the box and shut the lid.
When Theo makes it to the door, his clothes from the dryer tucked under one arm, I walk toward him. “Thank you for... everything.” It feels a like an inadequate statement, but I try to make my eyes say the things my mouth isn’t.
Thank you for letting me cry on you. For helping me with the A-frame. For believing in me more than I believe in myself.
His soft gaze travels all over my face, like he can see everything I left out. “Anytime.”
Chapter 13
