Page 60 of Gideon's Gratitude

Jeans and a button-down shirt. I could roll up the sleeves, and it’d been tight before, so hopefully wasn’t too big now.

What difference does it make?

If the woman didn’t judge me on my appearance, she’d have plenty more to pick from. My reaction to the accident, the night I wanted to forget, Leo booting me…so many low points, I’d lost count.

You can do this.I told Archer, so I could suck it up and tell Kennedy. I was strong enough for this, right?

Not likely.

But the prospect of seeing Melodie and Trevor lit something inside me. The need to connect. The need to see more of my children than just through a computer screen. A year. It’d been over a year since I’d held them in my arms.

Stretching to pull on the shirt set off twinges, but nothing unbearable. My jeans were a newer pair. Money I’d been loath to spend, but I needed clothes that fit. Wouldn’t do to have my pants drop and to moon the neighbors.

Okay, maybe it’d be okay with one neighbor. The man who kept coming back. The man I could fall for. The man who held me when all felt lost.

The man whose pupils had widened when we touched. Archer’s hand was soft. The hand of a man who worked with his mind, not his body. That touch soothed me. Even went so far as to heal part of my broken heart. My battered soul.

But for how long? Whatever Archer was hiding from, he’d be called back to the city eventually. And yes, we were now neighbours, but that would be a weekend thing. And the man would entertain his family or rich friends or lawyer buddies. He’d forget all about the pathetic guy next door who couldn’t tie his boots without pain.

The man who had nothing to give.

Still, as I checked my reflection in the mirror, I hesitated. I didn’t have time to shave. Hadn’t done so for several days. I rubbed my hands through my scruff. Facial hair itched. Which was why, despite the hassle, I shaved almost every day. A way to prove to myself that I still breathed. That I still lived.

Archer was clean-shaven today and had just a hint of lingering shaving-foam smell. Not the same as Leo’s, thank God. That’d be too painful a reminder.

“We should get going.” Archer’s words carried from downstairs.

Showtime.

I tried to walk down the stairs with some enthusiasm, but clearly Archer saw right through me.

The man held my coat, and Lucky sat next to him, staring up adoringly.

“Does he know we’re going out?”

“He’s definitely hopeful.”

To my surprise, Archer held out the coat and helped me into it. An oddly intimate gesture, but one truly appreciated.

“I moved the SUV over here, so you shouldn’t get too wet.”

Only now did I notice his hair shone darker than usual. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know. But I consider it self-preservation. The less time Lucky spends in the forest, the less forest in my car.” He scratched behind the dog’s ears. “And he’s taken care of. Let me put on my coat, and then we can go.”

Just like that. He’d taken care of everything.

I slipped into my boots with no laces while Archer tied his and put on his coat. We both donned hoods.

The rain was nearly torrential as we sprinted.

Archer held the door to the back seat for Lucky, who flew in.

Within moments, we two humans were loaded in as well.

“This is nuts.” Archer pushed his hood back and pressed the button to start his vehicle.

Ah, one of the fancier ones. I couldn’t fathom not using a key to start my car. I’d been impressed when I bought a car with automatic locks, automatic brakes, and automatic windows. No a/c, and the heating was questionable, but she ran, and that was all that mattered. This SUV? A work of beauty. One I barely noted last night. But we hadn’t been facing torrential rain. “Wait.”

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