Page 23 of For Keeps. For Always.

HENLEY

It’s different.

Not different, weird. Just . . . different.

I had to expect it. We’ve changed as individuals, so it makes sense that our friendship couldn’t have remained as it was.

Brooks holds my hand as we walk back to his house. A simple show of intimacy we’ve never shared. It feels like a declaration, an effortless show of possessiveness that, even after so much time apart, brings us closer.

He squeezes my hand, and I do it back.

Is it noticeable to him too? That change? Or am I reading into something that isn’t there to distract myself from my awkward loneliness?

“When’s the funeral?” I steer myself away from my own thoughts.

“Day after tomorrow.”

My free hand slides into the crook of his elbow, bringing me flush against his side as we walk. I hope he reads the gesture for what it is. A promise that I’m here. A show of support that I know he needs.

He leans down, dropping a kiss to the top of my head as we meander back toward his house. “Thank you for being here,” he whispers.

“For always.”

My hand feels clammy. I don’t know if it’s him or me. Whether it’s just what happens when you hold hands with someone, or if my nerves, or his, are getting the better of us. Whatever the reason, I can’t bring myself to untangle. Sweaty hands be damned, I don’t know when I’ll get another chance to touch him like this.

“How often do you go to the rock?”

“Every day,” he tells the trees we’re passing.

I smile. “Do you think of me while you’re there?”

He looks down at me quizzically. “Why do you think I go there, Squirrel?”

His pretty black lashes flutter against his cheeks when he blinks. I hadn’t noticed how long they were before. How thick and dark and prominent they were on his face.

“What?” he asks.

“What?”

“You’re staring.”

Turning away, I shrug. “I’ve never noticed how long your eyelashes are.”

I wonder if it’s common to notice small details about someone’s appearance when you’ve been separated from them for a prolonged length of time.

Have his eyelashes always been that long, and I just never took the time to notice? Or have they grown in my absence?

Have his eyes always been so pretty? So bright they’re more azure than a genericblue.

Has his smile always ticked at the side before spreading across the rest of his face? The gesture roguish and cheeky all in one, hinting at a brazen flirtation I’ve never felt from him before.

Has my heart always beat erratically around him? Nerves tickling under my skin in expectation?

“You’re still staring.”

I shake my head, annoyed at the warmth that crawls onto my cheeks. “Sorry.”

“Now you’re blushing.”

---