Page 71 of Every Thought Taken

Earlier today, Mags sent a text in the group chat between everyone.Geoff and I can’t make dinner tomorrow. Our place tonight?Out of everyone here, Lessa has the more hectic schedule. We all answered yes before her. I half expected her and Braydon to decline. But she sent awe’ll be therewith a smiley face emoji. Bywe, I assumed she meant her and Braydon. Not once did I consider Anderson showing up.

I like that he is here. I more than like it.

What I don’t like is his keeping his distance. Like us talking or existing in the same space around others is uncomfortable or needs to be a secret. Again. As if we had never been friends once.

Rising from my seat in the living room, I shuffle behind everyone to the kitchen. We file into line, grabbing paper plates to load up with whatever is on the menu. Pulling up the rear, Braydon spins around in front of me and asks about the shop as we wait. He and Lessa haven’t been together long, but he slid into our group with ease. We each got to know him while he wrote a story about the town.

Lessa got herself a good guy with Braydon, and I am happy for them.

“Care Bear?” He shifts his attention from me to Lessa. “Come help me, please.”

One corner of his mouth kicks up in a half smile. “We’ll catch up at the table.” He shuffles out of line, sidles up to Lessa, kisses her temple, and whispers in her ear. The blush on her cheeks is impossible to ignore.

Shifting my gaze away from their obvious intimacy, my eyes land on a lean, broad shoulder not far from my face. Following the line of his shoulder, I survey the tanned skin of his neck, a few darkened freckles at his nape, the dark-blond shaggy locks that are shorter in the back than on top, the sharp angle of his profile as he stares at the buffet.

So much of him is physically the same, yet I pick up the small differences with ease. How straight he holds his spine. How he squares his broad shoulders. His willingness to spark conversation rather than shy away from it.

This new version of Anderson is bolder, stronger—physically and mentally—more comfortable in his own skin.

On an inhale, I discover one of my favorite parts of him remains unchanged. Something I will forever associate with Anderson. His scent hits me—cedar and earth with a hint of fire—and rouses countless memories. Subconscious souvenirs tucked away for safekeeping. Movie nights and roasting marshmallows and hiking in the woods.

I close my eyes and beg my heart to calm down. Tell my lungs to breathe slower, quieter.

It’s been years, yet it feels like a lifetime. A lifetime without his words, a lifetime without his hand in mine, a lifetime without the smile he reserved for me only. A lifetime without his heart.

While our time apart seems to have been good for him, I can’t say the same.

“Hey.” His voice, low and raspy, hit my ears and I open my eyes. Blue eyes dart between my greens as unspoken questions weigh heavy in the air. “You okay?”

Why is this so weird? This is Anderson. The boy I spent more than half my life around. We were never like this. Fidgety fingers and sealed lips. We never fumbled for words. Especially me. Not with him.

I hug the plate to my chest and nod. “Yeah.” The fib spills from my lips with ease. Were it anyone else, I’d have said,“Define okay.”

Just as he could years ago, Anderson sees past the lie. His eyes narrow and I squirm under his scrutiny.

Since when do I feel intimidated by Anderson?

He purses his lips and inches forward, adding a scoop of pasta salad to his plate. “I’ll let that slide for now,” he mutters. He looks at me out of the corner of his eye as he adds pulled chicken to his plate. “But not Saturday.”

Before I rebut his comment or toss out another lie to cover the last, he steps away, fills his plate, and heads for the table on the patio. Every other breath, I peek out the sliding glass doors as I add more food than I’ll eat to my plate. With cutlery and a napkin in hand, I amble toward the patio and scan the table for an open seat.

And, of course, the gods are out to torture me tonight. Because the only open seat is an added chair between Anderson and Logan.

At least Logan won’t be offbeat.

As I drop down in the chair, Geoff rises with a brown bottle in hand. “Thanks for accommodating our change in plans this week.” His eyes fall on Mags, a soft smile on his lips. “Wanted a weekend away with my girl starting tomorrow.”

On the opposite end of the table, Lessaoohsover the announcement. “And where is it you plan to whisk my bestie off to?”

Geoff resumes his seat and takes Mags’s hand in his. “I booked a weekend at West Beach Resort on Orcas Island.”

“Good choice,” Anderson says around a bite.

“You’ve been there, Baby A?”

He looks up from his plate and stares down the table at his sister, incredulity written all over his face. For a split second, I think he is going to give her some smart-ass answer. Of course, he does the opposite.

“Ales, I’ve been on the road for six years.” A subtle smile softens his expression. “Exploring all of Washington was at the top of my list.” He drops his gaze to his plate and spears pasta with his fork. “I’d seen it all before you were home from college.”

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