Page 90 of The Boy from Half Moon

I burned those numbers into my brain, and after some assistance, the checker thanked me and handed me the bag of groceries. The plastic card was magic in my limited understanding of my new world away from the confines of Half Moon.

I heard Tate’s keys in the door, and my heart skipped a beat, like every time he came home. My good news had me so excited I wasn’t sure I could hold my secret in until dinner.

“Hey, handsome,” he said, standing on his toes to kiss me. “Missed you today.”

“I had a job interview today, Tate!” I blurted out, laying the towel in my hand on the counter, and folding immediately as far as secret-keeping went.

Tate was halfway up the stairs to our bedroom when I made my announcement. Stopping, he turned, descended the stairs, and came across the room until he was standing beside me.

“Say that again, mister man,” he joked. “You’re telling me you kept a secret and went on a job interview?”

I was practically jumping up and down in excitement, grinning like a fool when I reached for his hand. He jumped back, acting offended by my secret.

“It’s good news,” I proclaimed, feeling quite proud of myself.

“Well then,” he said, allowing me to grab his hand and yank him toward me with force, where my puckered lips waited.

I tapped my mouth with a finger. “Kisses first,” I demanded.

“If I kiss you, Luke. We could be awhile,” he teased, hugging me tight as we spun around the kitchen. “Hey, you. What’s all that?” he asked, finally noticing the dining room table.

“I told you I had good news,” I said. “And to celebrate, I’m making you spaghetti.”

His eyes narrowed even more. “And who taught you how to make spaghetti?”

I lifted a narrow box of pasta noodles from the counter, flipping it over and facing it toward him. “Right here on the back,” I stated. “You did know I can read, didn’t you?”

“And apparently go on secret interviews.”

Tate leaned closer and kissed me lightly, most likely avoiding what usually happened when we kissed. The past three weeks had been wonderful for me. Tate was even more than I imagined he could be. He was kind and patient, quick to encourage, always loving and positive in his approach to me. We’d discovered a few new things in the bedroom that I took to like a duck takes to water. And thanks to his coaxing and the care with which he went about exposing me to what pleased him, I felt safe and loved.

He sat on a barstool and beamed at me. “Don’t leave a single thing out, cutie.”

“I went to Wilson’s Feed and Hardware today,” I began. His eyes raised in question as I spoke, probably worried about how the visit had gone. “I asked for the manager and they actually went and found him for me, Tate. They treated me respectfully and like I mattered. I was so happy.”

I noticed his eyes filling. Tate was an emotional and loving man. His emotional reactions weren’t always about sad things, either. Often, good news or sweet events, had the same effect on him. Loving Tate was easy because he was such a thoughtful man.

“And?” he asked, swiping at his eyes.

“And… the manager came out, and I said, ‘I came for a job.’”

Tate’s head tilted, his nose scrunched up all funny-like, confused about something. “Really, Luke? That was the first thing you said?”

“Yep! ‘I came for a job,’ Tate. What else would I say?” I asked, turning the stovetop on for the big pot of water I needed to boil.

“Well, perhaps you could’ve introduced yourself, said hello, even?”

“Oh, shoot!” I remarked. “You’re right. I should’ve done that.”

“Next time,” Tate said. “We’ll practice some good conversation starters to use. I’m proud of you, Luke. This was a big step.”

I stuck out my lower lip in an exaggerated pout. “I’m not done,” I protested.

“You’re not?” he asked. “What else did you learn today?”

“I learned that being prepared is a good thing,” I replied.

“In what way?”

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