Page 49 of All It Takes

A little while later, we were eating casually from a buffet-style dinner Chase and Hallie had set up. McKenna was explaining, “So Archer has been insanely busy with the transition from the old mining operation to turn it into a renewable energy operation. He’s been coordinating with Off The Grid in Diamond Creek.”

“It’s basically a new business,” I commented. “I know the town is glad Fireweed Industries is keeping part of the business here.”

McKenna glanced over, nodding in agreement. “Absolutely. We already had the property and the offices. Archer’s doing a massive retrofit. Otherwise, we would’ve been scouting for a new site. In the long run, this is more cost effective for Fireweed Industries. It also helps repair some frayed ties in the community. There was a lot of opposition to the mine.” She let out a sigh.

“Why were they going to reopen the mine anyway?” Hallie asked. She’d put their baby son to bed only a few minutes earlier.

McKenna glanced over, rolling her eyes. “Our asshole uncle ran this branch before Archer took over. That’s why he and Phoebe got married.” She noticed the confused look on my face and grinned. “They’re totally in love. They were best friends forever when they were little.”

“I recall,” I said. “So what’s the deal?”

“My grandparents set up this weird thing that for Archer to take over completely, he had to be married. Although it sounds weird and old-fashioned, it’s not that wildly unusual in larger companies because, statistically speaking, marriages indicate stability. But he had a timeframe. Fortunately, he and Phoebe fell in love in the nick of time and got married so our asshole uncle was pushed out. The situation opened up a can of worms around the fact that he had been embezzling money. He’s currently facing charges for that. He wanted to reopen the mine and kicked up a political storm over it. Fireweed Industries has been beloved in Alaska for a long time, and that was one of the worst public relations nightmares we had to deal with. I run the public relations department.” She threw her hands up, letting them fall.

Tiffany chimed in, “That must’ve been fun.”

McKenna shrugged. “Mostly annoying. That’s why I’m here. I’m coordinating with Archer’s team to get press releases organized about the new renewable energy offices. Off The Grid has a stellar reputation here and internationally. They’re way ahead of the curve with developing new renewable energy products, so it’s a mutually beneficial partnership.”

As the night carried on, it became increasingly difficult for me to keep my focus off Tiffany. Tiffany drew my attention. She was the flame, I was the moth, and I didn’t even care if I got burned.

She was seated beside me, with her dark hair pulled up in a twist and tendrils dangling along the sides of her neck and around her cheeks. I wanted to dust kisses along the sensitive skin of her neck because I knew it made her shiver. I wanted to undo that tidy twist and bury my fingers in her silky hair. I wanted the feel of her gasping and whimpering as she arched against me.

Someone clearing their throat snapped me out of my need-filled reverie. I whipped my gaze up to find Chase giving me a hard stare. I gave him a bland smile and took a swallow of my beer, draining it before lowering it and idly spinning the bottle between my fingers.

Ross was staying with me for the weekend. Tiffany and I had settled into a schedule that seemed to be working. We were still talking with the therapist about whether one of us should be the primary, although with my work schedule, it seemed best to keep it somewhat flexible.

Ross still hadn’t cried about his parents, at least not in front of me or Tiffany. We had both talked about it and checked with the therapist about it. She’d given us information about grief for children his age and emphasized how grief was an individual process. She had also pointed out more than once that this was all very overwhelming for him, and the shock and numbness of it might still be protecting him from the intensity of his feelings about the loss of his parents.

Later that night, back at my house, Ross was sitting on the floor petting Nilla. I finished tidying up the kitchen and closed the dishwasher before tapping it to start. When I walked into the living room, Ross looked up, his eyes curious. “Do you like Tiffany?” he asked, catching me off guard.

I felt my eyes widen and quickly tried to school my expression to neutral. I scrambled inside for how to respond, settling on, “Of course I like Tiffany. She’s my friend. We both grew up in Willow Brook, so we’ve known each other for years.”

All of those things were true, so I hoped my answer was good enough.

Ross looked down at Nilla, watching the path of his hand as he dragged it through the fur along her back. “I saw you kissing her.” He looked up again.

Fuck my life. Now I had to come up with some kind of answer about this. Ross was smart. He would pick up on it if I tried to skirt the issue.

I took a breath, considering my answer and wishing I had time to call Tiffany.

Ross saved me. He studied me for a moment before adding, “You don’t have to explain. It’s okay. I know kissing is a grown-up thing. That’s what my mom and dad said.”

I started to reply, but he suddenly started crying. He buried his face in Nilla’s neck. Nilla sat up, leaning against him. She knew he was hurting and just let him lean on her and cry.

While I felt uncertain about how to respond, I waited. When his sobs finally quieted, I asked, “Do you want to talk about it?”

He shook his head into Nilla’s neck. She was curled protectively around him.

“Okay. Let me know if you want to talk about it, and I’ll listen. I want you to know I miss your dad too,” I said quietly.

Ross nodded into Nilla’s neck, turning his head to the side as he replied, “He talked about you because he played video games with you. He said you were his best friend from college.”

“We were best friends. I’ll always miss him even though I didn’t see him that much. We talked every week when we played.”

Unsure what else to say, I crossed over and sat on the couch nearby. After a few more minutes, Ross lifted his head from Nilla, dragging his sleeve across his face. I watched as he took a deep breath before he looked over at me, blinking and offering, “I’m okay.”

After Ross went to bed, I lay in bed, propped against some pillows as I pondered whether to text Tiffany about his question about us kissing.

Lifting my phone, I figured I might as well because at least I could warn her. I also wanted to let her know he had finally said something about his parents. As much as that made my heart ache, that was easier to approach with her than him asking about us kissing. That topic felt fraught.

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