Page 73 of Goode Tidings

Oliver leans the ax against the tree, shoulders slumping. "Don't tell my mom, ok? I know you two are friends, or whatever, but I don't want her to know."

"I'm sure your mom would like to help you."

"Exactly." He picks at something on the front of his shirt, probably little flecks of bark. "She'll go to the store and buy gloves and baseballs and literally everything she could need to teach me. She'll watch tutorials."

He's right. Eden would do exactly that. "And that's bad because...?"

"She shouldn't have to." More anger bubbles up. "How to catch a baseball is basic shit my dad should have taught me. But of course he didn't. He came and went and did whatever it is he does, and now he's in Thailand, supposedly because he fell in love with somebody online."

I want to call Justin. Right now. I want to FaceTime him and let him see his son, make him face the consequences of everything he has and hasn't done over the years.

But then I remember what Eden said. How she has to handle Justin carefully. Forcing him to see his mistakes can backfire, leaving Oliver with more damage than he's already experienced.

"I'm rusty, so you'll have to be patient with me, but I'm happy to get a little practice in with you."

Oliver looks at me. Finally, he says, "I guess you would have been my step-uncle if your mom and my grandpa had stayed married."

Oof. An unfortunate reminder of why it's maybe not awesome that my heart swells a little when I look at Eden. Or think of her.

Hermie Lovelorn strikes again.

"Yep," I say. "I guess it could've gone that way."

"Good thing it didn't," Oliver says. "Because you have a thing for my mom."

I give him a sharp look.

"Bro," he says, in a tone that says come on. "If you didn't want me to know about it, you should've done a better job hiding it."

"I respect and admire your mom," I say, finally finding my voice. I grab the ax from where he has leaned it against the tree. "We're friends. That's all."

"Sure," he says, walking alongside my hand that is not holding the ax. "Is that why you've been pheromone maxing?"

"What the hell does that mean?" Deciphering teenage language makes me feel old.

"You've started wearing cologne, bro. When you come over for those cooking lessons." The little shit is looking at me with his eyebrows raised, challenging me to dispute his claim. He knows he has me.

"It's ok to want to smell nice," I grumble. I am not loving this new territory I have found myself in.

"Sure," he answers. Sarcastic. He has Eden's mischievous twinkle in his eye.

"Go ask your mom if it's ok if you run into town with me. I'm going to grab my wallet. And stay out of my tools"—I give him a stern look—"especially ones that can harm you."

Oliver nods sheepishly, and we peel apart. I place the ax with the other tools in the small storage locker on the side of the cabin. I'll have to stop at the hardware store and grab a lock for it.

Then I stop in the Shed House Hut Office Thing and pull on a flannel, lace my boots, and grab my wallet.

Pheromone maxing.

Utter bullshit.

Smelling nice is about basic human decency. It's as much for me as it is for Eden.

I pass the cabin on my walk to my car. Eden's standing over the kitchen sink. She looks up. Smiles and waves.

Has she noticed that I've started wearing cologne?

Does she like the way it smells?