Page 72 of Goode Tidings

Cecily: For science?

Eden: Yes.

Paisley: Did you kiss him?

Eden: No. Just an arm around his waist. And a hand on his stomach. And a hug.

Paisley: Did you like touching him?

Eden: It wasn't a hardship.

Paloma: That's a yes!

Cecily: Eden, Paloma is hollering in her office. She is weirdly excited for you.

Paloma: Can you please keep it down? I'm living inside Eden and Naked Guy's love story.

CHAPTER 34

Callum

What the hell is making that racket?

I push back from my desk, peering through the window. The noise continues, a sharp sound, followed by a dull thunk. It's not that far away if I can hear it this clearly.

It's late afternoon, almost time for me to quit working. Oliver must be home from school by now. I glance at the cabin and catch sight of Eden dancing her way around the kitchen. The window above the kitchen sink makes it so I can only see her top half, which comes in and out of view as she moves around. Hermie Lovelorn, indeed.

There goes that noise again. I press the button to make my computer go dark, then stand up and shove my feet in my boots, not bothering to lace them.

I indulge in another peek at the cabin. No Eden this time.

The sound continues, and I follow it into the woods between my cabin and the one next-door. Is Marco nailing another blank note to a tree? Unlikely. This is too much noise.

I only have to go another twenty feet or so before I discover the source of the noise.

"Oliver?" I say when I'm a good distance away, trying not to startle the boy. He is holding an ax, after all.

Oliver turns and looks at me. Tears run down his face. The emotion in his expression is enough to sharpen something in my chest, an alert rising inside me. I slow, angling my approach so I'm not coming at him head on, giving him space.

"Did something happen?" I ask, when I'm at the far end of the fallen tree he's hacking up. Divots decorate the center of the tree, uneven and random.

"No, I'm standing in the forest axing a tree while I'm crying because it sounded like a fun idea."

Despite having once been a teenage boy, and remembering how confusing and upsetting some days were, whatever is going on here feels entirely outside my scope of abilities.

"I should go get your mom." I make it one step away before Oliver says, "Please don't."

He looks at me. More tears course down his cheeks. I have no idea what to say next, but I don't have to because he says, "Today we played baseball in PE."

I stay silent, but nod, to make sure he knows I'm listening.

"Fun fact: I don't know how to play. I don't know how to catch a baseball." He becomes angry when he says this. Disgusted, even. He kicks at the fallen tree with the bottom of his shoe. "It was obvious. And Jackson Parish trolled me so hard."

My heart is breaking for this kid. I know what it's like to grow up without a dad. To have to learn on my own what a dad should have taught me. "What did you do?"

"Laughed it off. But at first, I wanted to cry. And punch him in his stupid face."

Been there, done that.