My feet hurry away from the table quicker than they should for the message being from my best friend, but it’s not. It’s from a man who I haven’t been able to stop thinking about since he left my place earlier in the week after taking care of me all day. This is the first I’ve heard from him after he checked up on me the next day via text message. When I replied telling him I was feeling better, I expected it to turn into a conversation but it didn’t. Part of me has wanted to text him to say thank you again, but every time I open my messages something inside me hesitates.
Maybe he didn’t text me back because he isn’t interested anymore.
Maybe I said something when he was over that offended him.
Standing in the other room, alone and out of sight of the dining table, my thumb swipes across the screen and opens our text thread.
Miles Adler:
Happy Thanksgiving, doc. I hope you’re having a nice holiday and time off. You deserve it.
I smile at my phone like a complete idiot when another message pops up.
I’m grateful you came into my life when you did. You make me a better man and I hope to only get better with your help. I’m counting down the days until I get to see you again at our appointment next week.
My fingers come to my mouth and I can feel the smile he’s caused. A wave of butterflies takes flight in my belly thinking about getting to see him next week.
“Hanna.” The soft voice of my father’s partner catches me off guard and I snatch my phone to my chest as if I just got caught doing something illegal. His eyes flash to my phone and then slowly looks at me with a knowing smile. “Your dad asked that I come get you.”
“Oh—yeah, sorry. Rae sent me a happy Thanksgiving text and I wanted to respond. I’ll be right in.”
George peeks over his shoulder and takes a step closer and lowers his voice. “Take all the time you need. Might I suggest a trip to the powder room? Your cheeks are a little flushed.”
My hand comes to one of my cheeks and I can feel the heat in it.
“That is, unless you want to be answering questions about whyRaeis making you blush so much.” He winks at me and places a soft hand on my shoulder.
“Thank you, Georgey,” I whisper sheepishly, trying to pat down the stupid smile I had on my face before he walked in. He’s always been a quiet confidant of mine in these types of situations. Never one to try and parent me but more so be a friendly ally to lean on when I need it.
He tips his head at me and winks again before crossing the threshold into the kitchen.
Licking my lips, I contemplate what to respond with. My thumbs fly across the screen of my phone multiple times, typing a reply, then deleting it, then writing another. Finally, I hit send on the text and shove my phone in my back pocket, trying to trust that I sent the right thing.
Happy thanksgiving, fireman. I’m grateful that you were kind enough to take care of me when you really didn’t need to. It meant a lot to me. I’m also excited to see you next week. Maybe if you’re lucky, I’ll kick your ass again in Checkers
I’m a few steps from the threshold to the kitchen when I feel my phone buzz again. I’m about to pull it out when my dad calls out to me.
“Hanna, let’s go, we’re waiting for you to start.”
“Hold on, I’m coming!” I shout back and quickly pull my phone out to read his message.
I’ll happily let you kick my ass whenever you want. I don’t know if you know this, but you do a cute little dance when you win. I find it very endearing.
I roll my lips around my teeth and bite back a smile. I can’t believe he noticed that. Or that he finds itendearing.
I’m about to text him back something smart when I hear someone’s feet approaching. Not wanting to have to explain myself, I lock my phone and shove it in my back pocket.
“Everything okay, honey bee?” It’s Mom this time and she looks concerned.
“Yeah, yeah everything’s good. It’s just Rae, family stuff,” I lie, and roll my eyes to sell it.
“Okay, well, you’re about to have your own family stuff if you don’t come in here. You know how your father is about the holidays.” She sighs, pressing her lips into a tight line.
“Then let’s go before he gets too cranky,” I say, looping my arm with hers. We walk side by side back through the kitchen. I set my phone down on the counter as we pass,telling myself it can wait until after dinner. Dad’s right, this is family time and I need to be focused on them.
And while I participate in conversations and eat our family meal with gusto, I can’t stop my mind from thinking about the messages on my phone and more specifically, the man who’s sending them.
21
