Page 21 of A Surefire Love
He pressed the box between the wall and his body, freeing up one hand to lock the office. That done, they continued toward the lobby. “The sleeping bag got claimed, but almost nothing else. There are clothes in here, serving platters, books, a ball of yarn, a lamp.”
She opened the door, and as he passed through, she trailed her fingers down his arm. “At least it speaks well of the church that people aren’t claiming stuff that isn’t theirs.”
“And now someone at the thrift store will find a viral water bottle.” He balanced the box on one hand just long enough to secure the building. As he turned toward his SUV, his knuckles hit Sydney’s hand. The box tipped, rattling the contents before he caught it.
“Sorry.” She stuffed her fingers into her pockets.
He winced. “I didn’t mean to push you away. This box is awkward, but ….” He adjusted the box on his hip so he could take her hand, but when he reached over, the load nearly slipped.
“Don’t worry about it.” She kept her eyes ahead, lips pinched.
Apologizing again probably wouldn’t help. Anyway, what did she expect with his hands full?
They reached his SUV, and he stowed the box in the back as she climbed in the front passenger seat.
He slid in behind the wheel. “Did you get much done at the community center today? You were working on the mentoring program, right?”
She shrugged and clicked her seatbelt. “I went through all the applications, and I think I have the pairings figured out—for the kids we have mentors for. We could use about a dozen more adults.”
“I could take on a student or two.”
“Where would you find an extra hour or two each week?” She spoke with tired amusement. “We already both worked on Labor Day.”
He steered onto the street. “I’ll find a way if it helps you.”
“Help isn’t really what I need from you.” Now she just sounded tired.
“I know. You’re plenty capable all on your own.” He smiled at her, but she stared out the windshield and tapped her fingers against the armrest.
She’d wanted to get the mentoring program off the ground since she accepted her role at the community center. The lack of volunteers must really be grating on her. “I know some high schoolers who would make good mentors,” he said.
She sighed. “I don’t need help, remember?”
“Right. Sorry.” He clenched his hand around the steering wheel. “What do you need?”
Nothing but the hum of road noise answered.
He glanced over. “I can listen. Tell me about it.”
She breathed out a quiet laugh. “There isn’t much more to tell.”
Over the next two blocks, regret accumulated. They weren’t on the same page today, and he didn’t know how to fix it.
“I’m excited about it and invested in it.” The quiet weight of her voice drew his attention from the road in time to see her mouth lift ruefully. “But sometimes I wonder if I’m the only one.”
That echoed how he felt with the board. He reached across the center console and opened his hand to her. She laced their fingers together and squeezed.
He squeezed back. “You’re not alone. All those students signed up, and there may not be as many adults as you want, but the people who volunteered are invested.”
Her grip loosened until her hand slid from his. “Right.”
A red light gave him another opportunity to look over, but she turned her face away.
He tried changing gears. “I think I saw on the flyer that the gyro truck you like is going to be at the park tonight.”
They discussed dinner options until they parked and fell in with the crowd headed for the square. The closer they got, the louder and busier the sidewalks became. Sydney slipped one hand around his elbow and wrapped her other hand around his.
At church, they rarely touched because the youth group kids weren’t allowed to. Walking like this when church members and students were undoubtedly in the crowd felt conspicuous. But if connection was what she needed, that was what he’d give. He pulled his arm from her hands and wrapped it around her, drawing her to his side.
