Page 65 of Just Like That

I didn’t like how the quiet allowed the what-ifs to creep in.

When leaves rustled in the tree line, I jumped. From across the fire, Hazel covered a giggle.

My expression sharpened. “It’s not funny.”

She bit her lower lip and looked up at me from beneath her lashes. “It’s alittlefunny.”

I gestured to the forest at her back. “You want to get eaten by bears?” I hissed.

It was a bit out of my depth, but I figured a large rock or fallen branch would do, should anything come barreling out of the woods. Fighting off a bear with my bare hands wasn’t ideal, but I wouldn’t go down without a fight.

Hazel’s eyebrows shot up. “The ferocious and deadly bears of southwest Michigan?”

I rolled my eyes and stood. “Whatever.”

Hazel laughed and I looked down at her. Mischief danced with firelight in her eyes. She was ridiculous and infuriating. Her sunshine radiated, even under the cloak of darkness.

She was impossible to hate.

Teddy shifted against her shoulder and drew my attention. “He’s out cold.”

Hazel tossed her stick into the fire, watching the flames consume it. “I’ll take him in.”

I stepped forward, crowding her space and bending to scoop him up. “I got him.”

Teddy’s weight sagged in my arms and I moved toward the skoolie with Hazel at my heels. She opened the bus door and I climbed inside.

Hazel pointed around me. “His bed is over there, on the right.”

It still amazed me how much space was inside the old school bus and how much work it must have taken to transform it. Once inside, I walked between the small couch and dinette set. On the left, her small kitchen still had graham cracker crumbs and marshmallows scattered on the white countertop.

She popped a marshmallow into her mouth as she walked behind me.

Across from the kitchen stove was a small bed. Above it were more cabinets for storage. One was slightly open and caught my eye.

Was that . . . an urn?

Hazel slinked around me and closed it with a snap. “That’s nothing.”

Letting it go for now, I ducked and gently set Teddy on top of the space-themed comforter.

Hazel moved around me with a wet wipe, and she did what she could to wipe the sticky marshmallow from his face.

“He’ll need a proper shower tomorrow, but this is good enough,” she whispered. When he didn’t wake, she chuckled. “He’s really tired.”

I slipped his sneakers off his little feet and neatly placed them beside the bed. It suddenly struck me how domestic and routine it felt to be tucking Teddy into bed after a long day—Hazel and I working together to get him in bed, that fraction of a second I looked down at him and watched him sleep.

It all felt oddlynormal.

He was a good kid. He deserved to be taken care of like this.

I watched his eyelids flutter as he rolled.

I’ll do right by you, kid. I promise.

I backed away, allowing Hazel to adjust a blanket on top of Teddy. She leaned in and kissed him before gently closing the curtain to his sleeping area.

Hazel stood and pressed the back of her hand to her mouth and stifled a big yawn.

---