Page 46 of Love Like Lightning

“It was great.” I’m not sure how much information Henry’s looking for, so I decide to give him my usual explanation of my childhood. “My mom’s family is pretty big, and they’re all still living in and around Boston, so I grew up with a pretty large extended family. Lots of cousins to play with, although they’re mostly boys. Simone—she’s the other girl cousin—is my best friend still today. She’s a little younger than I am and a lot more fun.”

Smiling to myself, I think about what she’d say about this little excursion I’m on with Henry.

“I’m sure that’s not true. You seem to be plenty of fun, Gia.” Henry offers me a sly smile that has me pressing my thighs together.

“Anyway, it was nice. My parents are still together, and I never really felt the lack of siblings because we were always getting together with family for someone’s birthday or a holiday or just Sunday dinner.”

“That sounds really nice. I can’t imagine growing up in a city.”

“I’ve never really lived anywhere else, so living and growing up in the city felt normal to me, but I guess you weren’t hopping on buses and trains when you were barely thirteen to go to Faneuil Hall.”

“No.” He laughs, angling his body toward mine.

A minute ago, I thought he might lean down and kiss me. It certainly felt like a perfect moment for a kiss.

If we were doing that. But we’re not kissing anymore, so it’s a good thing he didn’t, despite the sharp disappointment needling my stomach.

“How was growing up here?” I ask. “It feels like Ever Lake is pretty small, but you have a bunch of other towns around, so there must’ve been plenty to do.”

“Growing up here?” Blowing out a breath, he leans against the banister of the gazebo and turns to look out toward the lake. “It was great for the most part. The community is pretty tight-knit, and we kind of had the run of the town as kids as long as we weren’t making our parents' lives harder than they needed to be. My parents own and run The Wright Lodge just a little closer to the outskirts of town, so we were always kind of outside and trying to stay out of trouble.”

Humming, I flick the ring on my thumb a few times and hope he’ll just keep talking. The mention of his parents and the lodge has me nervous and feeling slightly queasy.

This is why I didn’t think I should spend time with him. I don’t like the feeling that I’m keeping something serious from him.

You barely know the guy. What does it even matter?

I try to hold on to that thought, but it doesn’t sit right with me.

“I told you that I spent a lot of time helping my mom in the kitchen, mostly with the baking. Those are some of my favorite memories. My brothers and sister had other things going on, so it was one of the only times I got to spend with her one on one.”

He talks so fondly of his mom that my chest starts to hurt a little. I feel like an imposter asking him about his childhood and acting like I don’t know his parents or anything about his family's business. And as much as I like Gina and Marc, I kind of want to shake them and tell them to talk to their kids.

“So where does the nickname come into play?” I ask the question I’ve been sitting on since I found out about it, even if I shouldn’t.

“Hammer?” He smirks at me, and the sun catches his eyes just so, making the gold and green shine. “My dad did a lot of projects out at the house and in the barn that they use for events. I liked helping him out too, although it took a lot longer for him to actually let me help with anything. But he did give me my first hammer.”

He pauses for a moment before continuing his story, his lips curving into a ghost of a smile. “It was one of those plastic toy ones, nothing extravagant. But safe. I wouldn’t go around breaking shit with it, which I’m sure was the point. But I guess the moment I got it, it never left my side. No matter what.”

“Well, you were young, right? Kids do that.”

Taking a breath and letting it out slowly, he turns toward me again, his smile turning shy. “Well, in the beginning, yeah. I was three or so when I got it. I didn’t get my hands on a real hammer until I was around ten. Maybe twelve? That little plastic hammer didn’t leave my sight in all those years.”

“Really? Even to school?” Something about imagining little Henry carrying a toy hammer with him everywhere he went makes me want to cry, it’s so sweet.

“Yup. At a certain point, I figured out that I should just keep it in my backpack if I didn’t want people to comment on it. By that time, most everyone was calling me Hammer anyway.” He smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“There’s something about that nickname that you don’t love.” It’s not so much a question as it is an observation. I don’t expect an explanation, but Henry surprises me.

“Somewhere along the way, I kind of lost my identity as Henry and just became Hammer to a lot of people. Including my family. It’s not that I don’t think I can be both, just…” He trails off, eyes wandering back to the mountains.

“You didn’t really get a say in it.” I fill in the blanks, feeling an immediate kinship.

As an only child and the eldest female grandchild in my family, a lot has always been expected of me. Without really having a say, I just went with it, for better or worse.

That sounds dramatic. I love my job. I love what I do. I just sometimes wonder whether everything I choose to do, who I choose to date, is because I want to or because it’s what I should do.

“Yeah. Exactly.” Henry looks at me, almost like he’s seeing me for the first time again. “I’m really glad you understand.”

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