Page 39 of The Archer and his Rosebud

I chuckle. “What is there to be nervous about? I help her out when she needs it. And she occasionally makes dinner to thank me. It’s not as if I don’t have my own drama; everyone does.”

“You know what I mean. Are you giving this girl false hope?”

“Oh my God, Mom.” A humorless laugh leaves me as I bend and pick up Clem.

“With everything that happened with Leah, I’d assume you’d be more careful. I worry about you, Archer. I can’t help it.”

“I get it. I do.” The conclusion of our marriage was a dumpster fire. “And when I decide to date again, I’ll vet the candidates with caution.”

“Archer.”

I laugh again. “Mom, I’m a big boy. I’d tell you not to worry, but I know you will anyway. Just know I’ve learned from my mistakes. I’m trying to be smart.”

Not making life harder for Willa is priority number one, which is why jumping into bed with her hasn’t been a part of my intentions.

Mom sighs. “But there’s something about this gi— woman, isn’t there? I might be a grandma, but I’m not deaf. You don’t talk about her like she’s a friend.”

Swiping a hand down my face, I bounce Clem. This conversation will never end if I’m honest, so I give her the closest form. “She’s someone who needs to be given a break in life, and I know what that feels like, so yeah. Maybe our relationship is unconventional, but only because I get it. I just want to help her, Mom.”

“Dammit. Why did I raise such a good son?”

“Beats me.” With teasing in my voice, I pause and say, “Oh wait, you did that.”

She gasps. “I swatted your butt with a wooden spoononetime.”

I laugh. “And I deserved it.”

If Nolan gave me gray hair at Grand Isle State Park, Mom earned hers the day my friends and I rode our bikes down to Sapphire Creek after a torrential rainstorm. We were told numerous times we weren’t allowed to play at the creek. Not only was it across a busy highway, but a kid had drowned in the floodwaters the summer before. But we thought we were invincible, so off we snuck. We were wading knee-deep in the fast-flowing waters when Mom stormed her way down the bank and put the fear of God in us if we didn’t get our ‘troublemaking behinds’ home in ten minutes. Turns out a neighbor drove past us as we rode along the highway and that neighbor called our parents. That’s what you get in our small town of Texas.

“Well, I love you, son.”

“Love you, too, Ma.”

After we hang up, I warm a bottle for Clem, but something Mom said stays with me.Am I giving Willa false hope?Maybe it’s the other way around. If she made a move on me, I wouldn’t say no. At this point, I can admit I’m attracted to her. She doesn’t see us as more than friends, I don’t think. Even if there have been a couple moments, or whatever we want to call them, between us. I think we’d both agree that starting something would be too complicated.

I just need to keep my head on straight.

ChapterThirteen

WILLA

Fall temperatures descendinto the fifties overnight as October rolls around in an abundance of red and orange leaves. This is my favorite time of year on UVM’s campus. A campus I’ve missed this semester since online classes don’t require me to be in person. After meeting with Professor Udam in Waterman, I take advantage of being on campus and make the seven-minute walk to the bookstore on Main and splurge on some merchandise. I’m leaving the bookstore when a familiar voice calls my name.

“It is you!” Priya waves. “I almost didn’t recognize you without that big belly.”

“Yeah, it’s strange, isn’t it?” I force a smile for the onefriendwho showed interest in Clem and me, until the spring semester ended and she went home for the summer.

“She’s not with you?”Obviously not.Priya’s shoulders droop. “I’m sorry I haven’t made time to visit you two. I’m a horrible friend. My schedule is killing me.”

“It’s fine.” I shut down her half-assed excuses. She’s a biomedical major. I don’t understand half of what that entails, but I imagine it’s more complicated than teaching tap and ballet to toddlers or taking two online classes from home while my hot neighbor watches Clem and shares cooking duties. Of course, she’s not dealing with hormonal depression and the reality of being a single parent, so let’s call it even.

“I’m heading to Skinny Pancake. Come with? I want to hear all about your sweet girl. Please?”

“I shouldn’t. I have a sitter—”

“I’ll buy you the poutine. I know they’re your favorite. I haven’t seen you in five months, girl. Give me thirty minutes.”

“Sure, why not,” I relent, pulling out my cell and shooting off a text for Archer while Priya weaves her arm through mine, talking nonstop about everything and everyone I’ve missed.

---