“I feel like you’re rehashing.”
“I’ll never forget the way your hands were all over me.”
“You know what?” She swung her long legs over the bench. “I’m finding that photo album your mom mentioned. You want to rehash something? Let’s rehash your teen years. How does that sound, Mr. Panda Bear?”
“Okay, okay.” Nate swiveled out of his seat, hands raised in surrender. He walked around and met her on the other side of the picnic table with a grin. “No more rehashing.” At least when it came to his teenage years and the bridge. He still had plenty of other things he wanted to hash out with McKenna.
But she seemed more focused at the moment on his arm. “Did you get stung?” She grabbed his forearm and angled her head to the side. “Oh my goodness, you did. Why didn’t you say something?”
“It’s fine.”
“No, it’s not. Look how swollen it is.” Her fingers brushed over the tender area above his elbow. “I’m getting some ice.”
“I’ll grab some later. Right now I need to take care of the grill, then lock all the chickens in the coop for the night. We certainly don’t want another massacre, do we?”
“Fine, but as soon as you’re done, I’m making you put some ice on it because I know for a fact that you won’t do it later.”
He grabbed her hand before she could pass by him on her wayto the kitchen. “If I promise to let you ice my arm, will you tell me more about your dad?”
Her gaze bounced off their joined hands back to his eyes. “Really? You want to hear more? Why?”
He leaned closer and whispered. “Did you miss the part where I said that I liked you?”
That pink blush on her cheeks deepened another shade as her lips lifted in a shy smile. “No. No, I did not.”
“Then how about we sit out on the front porch after I’m done?”
She bit her bottom lip, then nodded her head. “Okay. I’ll clean up the dishes and check on the goats, then meet you out there. With ice.” She pointed a finger at him.
“Perfect.” Maybe nothing real could develop between them this summer. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t get to know the real McKenna in the meantime, did it?
Maybe it was the starry sky. Maybe it was the press of Nate’s shoulder against hers on the porch swing. Maybe it was the way she’d caught him checking out her legs earlier. Maybe it was just the fact that he admitted he liked her. For whatever reason, McKenna found herself looking at Nate through a new lens. One that wasn’t so blurry.
Sure, she’d noticed from the start how annoyingly handsome he was. But tonight, here, now, telling him about her family while crickets chirped and goats bleated... he wasn’t just some annoyingly handsome guy.
He was Nate. A handsome guy who seemed genuinely interested in getting to know her. And oh, how there was nothing annoying about that. Except for the little fact he lived in New York.
“So how old were you when you got adopted?” Nate pressed the swing into a gentle back and forth motion, removing the baggie of ice that was mostly just water at this point from his arm and setting it next to him on the swing.
McKenna slipped off her sandals, setting her bare feet against the wooden floorboards as she joined his rhythm. “Momma J started fostering me when I was four. Adopted me when I was five.”
Nate’s shoulder shifted against hers, his voice quiet in the dark. “Do you remember your biological parents at all?”
“No. Usually if I try to remember anything from before I was adopted, all I get is this random image of crayons melting into the cracks of tan leather seats in the back of some car. What about you? You said you don’t have a relationship with your dad. Was he ever in the picture?”
“Not really. Only memory I have of him is from when I was around five.” Nate huffed a quiet laugh. “Mine isn’t crayons. It’s markers. I don’t remember much. But what I do remember is sitting on the kitchen floor, coloring, while my dad talked to my mom in the other room. At some point I guess I decided the white fridge made a good canvas. All I remember next is my dad leaving and my mom crying. Since he never came back, I thought for the longest time he left because he was mad at me for coloring on the fridge.”
McKenna rested her hand on top of his. “Is that really the only memory you have of your dad?”
“From my childhood at least.”
“That’s rough. Has it always just been you and your mom then? No other siblings?”
“Just the two of us. Which is why helping her out this summer is important to me. I feel like I haven’t been a very good son to her over the years.”
“Why’s that?”
His shoulder lifted and lowered against hers as he sighed. “I don’t know. Guess I’ve just always felt guilty for moving away and not coming back more often. It’s not that I don’t want to—I love my mom. She’s great. I just don’t like coming back here when I know there’s a chance, even a small one, that I could run intohim.”
