And also what he’d said to me, about being curious about his sexuality, and whether those two things might’ve been connected. Clearly, he wassexuallyattracted to women, but…
Maybe not romantically? That was a thing, I’d heard that was a thing.
It even made sense to me, as much as anything about attraction and love and romance ever made sense to me.
I shouldn’t have been making private guesses about Kieran’s feelings while he was standing three feet away.
“I thought you were going back to your owner,” I said, turning my attention back to Hemingway, who was purring happily.
“Avery—uh, the local vet—couldn’t find a chip, and no one’s come to claim her, so…”
“So you took her in?” I asked, smiling at the thought. Kieranwassweet. Clearly, that wasn’t something that’d changed.
I didn’t know enough about him, yet. We’d been apart longer than we’d ever known each other. Kieran was a whole different person, and Ihadto stop thinking of him as the same fourteen-year-old I remembered.
But it was hard to forget what we’d had, and harder still not to want it again.
“Yeah, well… figured you liked her,” Kieran said. “So she couldn’t beallbad.”
I opened my mouth to respond, but something in the other room buzzed loudly just as I took a breath.
“Your timing was incredible,” Kieran said, already heading for what I assumed was the kitchen. “Make yourself at home.”
He gestured broadly around the space and then disappeared.
* * *
There was no sweetersound in the world than Kierangiggling, and I never wanted him to stop.
“You remember the time we stole those apples from the Nolan farm?” Kieran asked, barely getting the words out between bouts of laughter, his face flushed, eyes glittering.
I’d have to remember that bringing him a bottle of wine and letting him nervously drink half of it was a good way to make this happen.
“And old Mr. Nolan chased us in his underwear?” I said, grinning as I remembered. Not just Mr. Nolan, but the way Kieran had grabbed my hand and dragged me along after him, a silent promise that he wouldn’t leave me.
“Screaming about how we were gonna ruin his apple crop for the year and waving… whatwashe waving?” Kieran asked.
“A boot, I think,” I said, trying to picture the scene more clearly. “Or… I dunno. Something vaguely boot-shaped, anyway.”
“Over two apples,” Kieran said, relaxing back into the sofa, sinking deep into the cushions.
The back of his hand brushed against mine, sending a little sparkle of sunshine glimmering along my skin and down my spine.
“Well, hedidonly have the one apple tree. Guess he wanted ‘em for the pigs.”
“Always was terrified of those pigs,” Kieran said.
“Really?” I asked.
“Yeah, ever since—you know that scene inThe Wizard of Oz? With the pigs? And whatsisname freaking out?”
“Uh. Vaguely,” I admitted, half an image of a black-and-white pigpen forming in my mind. I hadn’t watchedThe Wizard of Ozsince I’d been… maybe eight. More than twenty years ago.
“Scarred me for life. Never liked pigs after that. Cried when a piglet approached me at a petting zoo once.”
“How old were you?” I asked.
“Nine,” Kieran said. “Think it might’ve been for Aiden’s birthday, maybe? Or something like that. Not sure why you weren’t there, but I don’t think you were.”
