I wish I could be so easily placated.
What a morning. Between Story and Max, I feel like I’ve already been through an entire day, and it’s barely ten o’clock.
This is me. Hendricks Burlington.
Dad. Mum. Doctor. Nurse.
As much as I’d like to think my life is together, it’s not.
I’ve not had a full night’s sleep since Story cameback. I might have wished for her return every day for the past six years, but it doesn’t matter. Max is my priority. It’s him and me in this life together. My brave little boy, wearing his hot chocolate mustache, is doing his best to eat a flapjack with two cotton balls stuffed up his nose while his eyelashes still hold the remnants of tears.
The reality is, I’m not free to open my heart up to anyone. Let alone with someone who hates my guts. Someone who could very well leave again.
I miss my friend, but I’ve missed her for so long that it’s almost intrinsic. I know what to do with missing her, and right now, my hands are full enough. Too full to change anything.
I have neither the time nor the ability to fix something I don’t know can be fixed.
Therefore, as much as I don’t want to, maybe it’s better that we keep our distance.
CHAPTER 7
Hendricks
Age 10
“You want to roll all the way down to the bottom?”
“Yup.”
I peer over the ledge of the flat expanse of grass we’re sitting on. The bottom is waaay down below. So far down that Honeysuckle Lane looks like a narrow path, the sheep are fluffy white balls of cotton wool, and the tractor in the distance is smaller than my Lego. I can see the fountain on Valentine High Street and The One True Love, but it’s all so tiny.
“It’s so far.”
“You think we can’t do it?”
I shake my head. “No. I dunno. We won’t get all the way down.”
“We will. I’ve done it already.”
Sophie’s eyes are as wide as her grin, and it makes me frown. Sometimes I can’t tell whether she’s making up a story or telling the truth.
“You have not.”
“I have.”
“When?”
“Last week.”
I peer back down the slope. Maybe it’s not as steep as it seems even though looking at it is making bubbles pop in my belly. But if Sophie’s done it, it can’t be that bad.
“Did you get sick?”
Her long braids flick around when she shakes her head, and I notice the ends of them are tied with bands in my favorite color. “Only a bit dizzy.”
“How long did it take?”
She shrugs. “Maybe fifteen minutes. I had to keep stopping.”
