Page 25 of Never Landing

“It’s not that. It’s . . . Peter. Peter Hawking.”

On the other end of the line, the phone made a thunk as she dropped it.

16

Peter

My walk didn’t take as long as it normally did. I didn’t want to walk and walk and walk until everything felt numb. In fact, I had what I wanted.

He’d even made me tacos.

There was nothing I could find walking around Cider Landing that’d make me feel better than being with Everett. I could only hope that it was okay for me to need him like that. I didn’t want to be too much. I didn’t want to make his lifeworse.

When I slipped in the back door, he was still in the kitchen, sitting at the round wooden table by the window and turning his phone over in his hands. He looked up at me, eyes wide, when I came back inside.

“Hey,” he said, making a move like he’d get out of his seat before he second-guessed himself. “How are you feeling?”

I shut the back door and leaned against it. A glance at the clock on the stove said I hadn’t even been gone half an hour.

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “Sad. Kind of okay. I changed my mind.”

“About what?”

“Can I have a hug?”

He was out of his seat one second, and his arms were around me the next. I didn’t think Everett could fly on his own, but he sure was fast.

For a few minutes, I just let him hold me like that, and I pressed my face against his chest and—and I didn’t cry this time, but it was still nice to have him hold me.

“If I ask you some stuff, will you answer honestly no matter what?” I asked without lifting my face, my voice a little muffled with my nose pressed into his chest.

“I promise I’ll try?”

I nodded. That was good enough.

“Are you glad I’m here?”

Everett’s arms tightened around me reflexively. “Yes, Peter. God, I’m so, so fucking glad you’re here.”

I nodded again, my throat working around a lump. “Is this...am I too—too much for you?”

“Not even a little bit.” Now his voice was muffled, his mouth pressed against the top of my head. “Not for one second. I know it’s a lot, but you’ll never be too much for me. Can you hang on just one minute?”

Feeling awfully pitiful, I nodded. When he stepped away, I shoved my hands into my pockets.

He moved around the kitchen fast, piling the plate with tacos. Some other time, I wanted to make them with him, laugh over dripped salsa and the mess of shredded cheese. Right then, I just felt heavy.

When he was done, he wrapped an arm around me and led me into the living room. He sat down first and patted the spot right beside him. I squirmed in close, and he lifted the plate out of the way.

“Do you want to put your legs in my lap?”

I nodded, and when I pulled them up, he cupped his hand on my knee and adjusted them closer. I curled toward his shoulder,and he pulled the throw blanket over us both before settling the plate on my lap.

“Hungry?”

I nodded again.

He picked up a taco and let me take a bite before he took one of his own. They weren’t huge, and I finished it off with one last bite from his hand before he said anything else.

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