Page 17

There was no denying that George and I had reached a turning point. It hadn’t taken long—the close proximity we’d shared since we’d met had definitely helped. He didn’t react to me the same way he had the first day—like he expected me to hurt him. Now…his glares were softer. A silly thing to say about a glare, yes. But still true.

Like he was wary, rather than uncomfortable.

In my book, that was a win.

I’d set George down before we’d entered the meadow, of course, well aware of how bruised his pride already was. I doubted he wanted anyone else to see him vulnerable. And though he stood tall and strode forward with his head held high, George stuck close to me of his own free will—my new adorable, soggy, leggy shadow.

George was silent when I’d taken him back to our tent to gather dry clothes and his first-aid kit .

The majority of the wedding party was out on the hike, and the children and the remaining adults were in the main lodge doing arts and crafts until lunch was ready, which meant that George and I had the communal bathroom all to ourselves.

Made up of logs—like everything else was—the bathroom itself looked like something out of a catalog. Fancy tile. Multiple sinks. Everything was impeccably clean. The back wall housed a line of separated shower stalls that actually had hot water. And the toilets were in a separate building entirely at the back. Which meant, no one had to listen to anyone else shit while they got themselves clean.

“You need help?” I inquired, setting our dry clothes and the first-aid kit by the sink. I was careful not to inflect too much concern into my tone. I didn’t want my head bit off. But more than that, I didn’t want to ruin the tentative truce between us. George had asked if that was what it was, and I’d been lying when I said it wasn’t.

As fun as I found pushing his buttons—and boy, wow, was that my new favorite hobby—the last thing I wanted was to make him feel unsafe. There were invisible lines I didn’t cross. And I was grateful for my natural people skills as it was intuition and intuition alone that was keeping me from accidentally hurting him.

Our conversation in the woods kept replaying in my mind. Believe me, that was surprising. It would’ve been easier to focus on how sexy George had looked with his shirt soaked through, and his hair slicked back. Instead, I thought about the way he’d flinched when I’d said the words “fussy George”—like it physically hurt to hear the name out loud.

It was obvious that mentioning Brendon was painful.

I’d never wanted to punch someone more.

I didn’t intend to bring it up again.

There was a glob of toothpaste in the sink—from one of the kiddos if the stepping stool still placed in front of it was any indication. I stared at it, so I wouldn’t ogle George through the glass. It took him a second to reply to my question, another indicator that he was still feeling wrong-footed. I could hear him rustling around, probably checking the showers for bugs. Or pulling his soaked shoes off. Maybe both.

“I’ve showered without your help for thirty-three years,” Georgie sniped. Good. If he was getting snippy it meant he was returning to normal. “I think I can manage with a few little burns on my fingers.”

“Holler if you change your mind,” I replied, not taking the bait. “It’s no trouble at all.”

“You just want to see me naked,” George muttered under his breath, quiet enough he probably didn’t think I’d heard him. But I had.

“Ha, ha, touché.” This time, I did look at him. I was grinning as I found his reflection in the mirror. Just as I’d suspected, he was inspecting another shower stall, working his way down the line so he could pick the best one. “I’m serious, though. If you decide you need?—”

“ I don’t need help, ” George rebuffed for a second time. And then, like a disgruntled rabbit, he stomped his cute foot and marched into the stall he’d picked fully clothed. He shut the door harder than was necessary—which I only knew was an accident because he immediately called out a shy apology, totally at odds with the way he’d stormed off.

We were lucky it was a hot day in the summer, or a dip in the creek could’ve been a lot more dangerous for the both of us than it had been. Hypothermia could be deadly for someone as lean as George. I was pretty sure there wasn’t an ounce of fat on him—not that I was one to speak, given the intensity I trained in the gym and how anal I was about my diet most days.

My physique was born from hard work, mental illness, and deep insecurity.

George’s appeared to be genetic.

He looked like his sister, Lacey. They were both tall and lean like their father, whereas Joe and their oldest sister, the one I’d only seen pictures of but never met, resembled their mother’s natural width .

George tossed his clothes with a wet plop over the shower door. A flare of heat curled low in my belly at the thought that he was naked and only a few feet away. A single door without a lock separated me from all that damp, lovely skin. My fingers itched with the urge to tear it open, press George into the chilly tile, and distract him the best way I knew how.

Blowing out a breath, I glared down at my dick, willing it to stop being such a horny bastard for once. It went against everything I was to admit this, but…I could honestly say the last thing I wanted to do was fuck Georgie right now.

I know, I know.

Shocking.

I just…I knew he needed comfort—and a friend. And I couldn’t really do or be either of those things if my dick was shoved so far up his ass I could feel it in his stomach.

Ugh. Man .

I really needed to stop thinking about that or I was going to get in trouble.

Now that George was taken care of, it was time for me to worry about myself. Which was difficult when my dick was hard. As I entered the stall right next to George—because I was a masochist, apparently—I swear I could hear the soapy swish of his hands as he cleaned himself.

Stop it, stop it.

I turned the water to ice cold in the hopes it would make my dick go down. My clothes were already drenched, why should I care if they got even more wet? I bit back a gasp as the water hit. The warmth felt good on my chilly body. I spent a solid thirty seconds calling myself an idiot in my head while I struggled to wrangle my sopping shirt off.

Even considering my idiotic move to drench myself again, I managed to shower faster than George did. I had no doubt it was because he was as meticulous with his personal hygiene as he seemed to be with everything else. Not that I wasn’t—because I was .

June made fun of me constantly for that. As if it was a bad thing, when it was the opposite.

“Checking for leeches?” I teased, a towel slung low around my hips. I’d already dried off, so now I just needed to retrieve my new clothes so I could change. It would’ve been convenient if there was a covered shelf inside the stall or something for them, but alas, despite being nice, the bathroom was not that fancy.

George exited his stall a second later, and I paused, the bundle of clothes I’d just retrieved tucked in one arm, abs tightening at the sight of all that creamy damp skin. He had a cute belly button. Christ. And his hip bones—there was a freckle on one that begged to be bitten. It’d look so pretty framed by teeth marks. Flat belly, almost concave, prominent ribs, and perky pink nipples?—

I licked my lips, suddenly parched.

My cock perked up. It tented the front of the towel, pointing right at George.

“Put that thing away,” George sighed.

“I can’t help it.” I laughed, embarrassed. When I glanced up at George’s face, he was smiling. Ah. So not all that offended then. In fact…he even looked, dare I say, flattered?

“I need to…” George made a gesture to his pile of clothes—that I’d been blocking.

“Sorry.” Like an idiot, I jumped out of the way.

He had the upper hand. I hadn’t meant to give it to him. But he didn’t abuse it. He didn’t even admonish me again as he stalked past me to grab his new outfit, and immediately retreated right back into his shower stall to put his clothes on.

I mourned the loss of all that skin, but shoved the thought aside. Shaking my head at myself, I mirrored him and headed into my shower stall to change.

This time, when we exited, we were fully clothed and my dick had decided to behave somewhat.

A miracle .

“Fingers,” I said, because I needed to get my mind back on track. “I need to take care of your fingers.”

“They’re fine,” George waved me off. In response, I closed the scant few feet between us and caught his wrist. It was frail so I held him gingerly, careful not to squeeze too tight. George’s eyes went wide before they darted away and a healthy flush covered his cheeks.

“They’re not fine. I thought I made it clear that I was helping you. You agreed.” I tipped his hand toward myself, studying the swollen digits with concern. “You don’t need to pretend it doesn’t hurt for my sake. Hell, I’d rather you cry than fake being okay.”

George opened his mouth to argue. He was reluctant to admit just how bad they actually hurt—like it was difficult to accept help, even when he needed it.

“I’m not going to judge you,” I promised before he could, needing him to know that he didn’t need to be perfect when I was around.

“Everyone judges everyone. It’s human nature.”

I supposed he was right, so instead of fighting him about it, I nodded. “Okay. Fine. But I’m not going to judge you for this .”

George’s eyes met mine again and a war waged between us. He did that a lot—stared into my eyes like he could read my mind through them. I wondered if he could. If he could see my intentions as plainly as I could see his discomfort.

Maybe so.

Maybe Brendon had been unpredictable.

Maybe George read people the way I did. But where I used that skill to keep people at a distance, George used his to stay safe.

Two sides of the same coin.

“Fine,” he acquiesced verbally, though he still looked mildly uncomfortable. “You can help me.”

I relaxed, grateful now that we’d come to an understanding. George was quiet as I worked, his ass on the counter between sinks, his hand in my grip.

Wasn’t like I knew a shit-ton about first aid or anything, but I’d been alive long enough to learn how to treat a basic burn. Besides, I’d been a Boy Scout—and I figured whatever courses I’d taken to earn my first-aid badge would kick in when I needed them to. Like learning to ride a bike.

“How’s that feel?” I asked when I was finished and George’s fingers were covered in white non-adhesive bandages. I’d done a pretty damn good job, if I did say so myself. The bandages looked neat, all perfectly spaced. And most importantly, they were protected. The heavy layer of burn ointment I’d coated them with was trapped inside where it could do its work.

“Better,” George admitted. Some of the tension in his frame had eased. Maybe he’d been extra prickly because of the pain? That would make sense.

Now that he was taken care of I was tempted to address the elephant in the room—this morning and the cock-against-ass debacle—but I didn’t want to make his hackles rise again, so I stayed quiet.

I’d finally gotten on his good side.

At least…I hoped I’d gotten on his good side.

“Let’s get food,” George said, surprising me when the words came out almost like an invitation.

“Really? Together?” I blinked.

He nodded, sliding off the counter and out of my personal space. The whole walk back to the tent George held his pile of wet clothes away from his body, refusing to get damp again. I did the same, so I didn’t blame him. We were quick to abandon the clothing, and even quicker to zip the tent up behind us, back in the midday sun once more. George put his loafers on so his sneakers could dry. He looked ridiculously darling in a new set of long socks, loafers, and shorts.

The shorts were a revelation.

God’s gift to mankind.

I’d nearly choked on my tongue the first time I saw them. I’d had to force myself not to stare, just like I was doing now—resolutely looking ahead so I wouldn’t drop to my knees and start licking from his knees up his thighs.

George didn’t touch me, but he also didn’t shy away as I laid my hand on his lower back and urged him toward the main lodge. Lunch was being served, and my stomach was a cavernous empty hole.

“Are you hungry?” I asked. I was curious why he’d invited me to spend more time with him. I’d assumed he’d run as far and as fast from me as possible—just like he’d done every other time he’d been vulnerable in my presence.

“No,” George said. I frowned. His back bunched beneath my hands, the ripple of muscle tantalizing. “But you are.”

How the hell had he known that?

I must’ve side-eyed him because he answered my question without me having to ask.“You didn’t come to breakfast. And you went on the hike with an empty stomach. You’re probably starving,” George explained.

Huh.

I paused, honestly floored. No one ever paid attention to my needs. I wasn’t used to it. For a second, I didn’t know how to process what he’d said at all. And then just as quickly, I forced my feet to move again, my heartbeat oddly fluttery. “You noticed that?”

“Of course I did,” George quipped. “That’s not healthy, you know. If we’re speaking about health—” I grimaced, knowing he was right. “Especially if you’re going to be doing something as strenuous as hiking. You need to eat a solid meal for fuel beforehand. You’re a big man. Big man equals big fuel.”

“Big man also equals big di—” I flirted, but George kept going like I hadn’t said anything at all.

“Considering your muscle mass and overall size I have no doubt you need to eat more than the average person even on a normal day.”

He was right. And god, was he cute when he was chewing my head off.

“I’ll do better,” I promised, not bringing up the fact that I hadn’t gone to breakfast because I’d known he was there and didn’t want to crowd him. A single bite of stolen waffle did not “big man fuel” make.

“Good.” George blew out an irritated breath. “Take better care of yourself. You’re a grown-ass adult. You shouldn’t be going hungry. Not when there’s food readily available. It’s poor planning.”

He was the most charming hypocrite I’d ever met.

“You’re right,” I agreed, gently compelling him forward again. We were halfway to the main lodge, and I desperately wished it was farther away. I wanted to prolong this conversation for as long as possible. No one had ever been so righteously indignant on my behalf before—or cared so much. Not my ex, or any of the randos I’d dated in my early twenties.

George fussed over me the entire walk and I enjoyed it far more than was healthy. By the time we entered the building, George’s ire had dissipated a bit and I was grinning. Of course, because fuck my life, June was already sitting down for lunch. Her shit-eating grin told me that she’d definitely clocked my smile for what it was, but I was too pleased to squash it, even knowing the teasing I was about to endure.

Despite his injured hand, and my protests, George insisted on gathering my food for me. He pointed across the room at the empty places on the bench beside my sister, arched a brow, and flared his bossy little nostrils in a silent command to sit and wait.

“Do you have any allergies?” he asked before I could follow my adorable orders. “Dietary restrictions?”

“Ah, nope. None. Don’t like Brussels sprouts, but I’ll eat them if I have to.”

“Noted.” George’s lips twitched like he was trying not to smile—then he remembered he was being a Bossy-Mc-Cutie-Pie and scowled at me all over again. Swiveling on his heel, George stormed off toward the kitchen where his mother was lurking.

Cheeks already flushed from the teasing I knew I was about to receive, I worked my way to my evil twin. The closer I got to her table, the more diabolical she looked. Like that scene from The Grinch when his smile curls and curls and curls.

Now that she was out of her pajamas, June was dressed in another puffy gown, this one in the colors of the trans flag. Had she not been knees-deep in her makeup trial, she’d have joined us on the hike that morning.

June made kissy faces at me as I slid into the seat across from her.

“Oh, shut up,” I griped. Her pale eyes danced.

“Someone’s looking cooozy,” June cooed like the asshole she was.

“You’re a bitch.”

“But I’m your bitch, Alex.” June batted her lashes, and I groaned, sliding my hands down my face to hide my flush. Not that it helped, she’d already seen it. “Your favorite bitch,” she added. “Because I introduced you to Geooorgieee.”

“Don’t say his name like that. Or at all.” I was the only one that was allowed to call him Georgie. It was the law.

“I’ve never seen you with heart eyes before,” June continued, like she wasn’t killing me one comment at a time. “It’s so disgusting.” Her voice told me she didn’t find it disgusting in the slightest. “I’m very proud of myself and the fact that this is all my fault. You should buy me a present. I’m thinking flowers? Oooh, actually, no. I want dinner. Dinner for me and Roddy. Somewhere fancy, with candles. We could make it a double date! Oh my god, I’m a genius.”

I couldn’t even deny her accusations. I really did have heart eyes. Which made me feel itchy and hot and embarrassed. And half-inclined to run. “The whole thing is temporary, June.”

“That’s what you think,” she waggled her eyebrows. I rolled my eyes.

I doubted that these new, bubbly, fluttery feelings were mutual. I wasn’t even sure if I wanted them to be. That was why I’d come up with the “practice boyfriend” scheme in the first place. Low risk. That was safer. I turned my attention to the back of the room where I knew Georgie would reappear.

“What was he telling you when you came in?” June asked. “He looked so grumpy.”

“He was mother-henning me.” My smile was disgustingly soppy and way too big to properly hide. June stared at me like I was an alien.

“Mother-henning you?” She tossed her head back and cackled. “God, you would like that, wouldn’t you?”

I did like it.

Way too much.

“It’s fucking cute,” I breathed in excitement, forgetting for a moment that I should probably play it cool. “God, it’s even better than when I was pissing him off on purpose.”

“You, my friend, are actually smitten. Never thought I’d see the day.” She grinned wider. “So he said yes, then? To your little ‘fake boyfriend’ scheme?”

“ Practice boyfriend,” I corrected. “And no. Not yet. But…”

“But?”

“I’m hopeful.”

“Good. For. You.” June clapped her hands for emphasis.

I genuinely liked George.

Which is probably why I was still holding out hope that he’d accept my proposition. He deserved more pampering than anyone I’d ever met in my life. And the fact that we were on a timer? Even fucking better. That way it was a guarantee I couldn’t overwhelm him. I could be as open and wild as I wanted.

“George likes Lord of the Rings . Did I tell you that?” I gushed without prompting.

“You did.”

“And he can cook steak.”

“A good trait to have when your boyfriend is a carnivore.” I ignored the ‘boyfriend’ comment.

“He reads?—”

“ You read.” June looked elated on my behalf.

“We have a lot in common.”

“True, true.”

“Plus, have you seen his ass? ”

“Oh, definitely.” June looked unrepentant in the slightest. I snorted. Then a weird twinge of jealousy and possessiveness flared through me and I glared at her. That only made her laugh, looking somehow even more delighted than before. “Oh my god, you are so fucking whipped, Alex. I never thought I’d see the day.”

“Shut up. Ah! He’s coming.” And he was. George strode toward us, less hunched in on himself than he usually was. Now that he had a mission to accomplish, it seemed there was less room for self-consciousness in his brain. I worried about his hand, but didn’t want to push too hard as he slid the tray down on the table, and sat gracefully in the seat beside mine.

“Ham and cheese,” he said immediately, so focused on his task he hadn’t even greeted June. My sister simply smirked, watching him with glee. “You like ham and cheese, don’t you?”

“I do.”

“Good. I also grabbed some potato salad with extra egg for protein.” George nudged the tray toward me, waiting for inspection. I nodded along, my heart squeezing tight in that new-scary-good way as I noted the three sandwiches that took up a majority of the tray.

Three. Christ.

And lord, right next to them was possibly the largest pile of potato salad I’d ever seen. There were so many pieces of hard-boiled egg I figured he’d hand-picked them. That was probably what had taken him so long. He’d been on an egg hunt.

OhmygodhewassocuteIwantedtobitehim.

“That was very sweet of you,” I said, instead. It was taking every ounce of my self-control not to squish his cheeks and smooch the hell out of his grumpy little face.

George slanted me an unimpressed look, though his skin was flushed, betraying how much he’d liked the compliment. “If you’re going to do something, do it right,” he said. I wasn’t sure who he was quoting. His mom, maybe? There wasn’t a shadow on his face like when he talked about his ex.

“God, you’re adorable.” The words slipped out before I could stop them. Immediately, I stiffened, worried I’d scare him off. The last time I’d called him adorable had not ended well. He was like…a stray cat. You had to feed it treats from a distance for a while before coaxing it forward. Especially…if you were an idiot like me and had thrown multiple stones its way the first few times you’d met.

George didn’t storm off, or get mad, or glare at me. He just…kind of froze? Like he hadn’t been expecting the compliment, especially while he was mid-rant. He blinked, his flush growing splotchier and redder as he ducked his head shyly.

June, to her credit, didn’t say a single word.

As much as she liked to tease me I knew she was far too loyal to mess this up for me. Even her chewing was less loud as she glanced away to give us the illusion of privacy.

“You don’t mean that,” George wavered, avoiding my gaze as he stared shyly down at the table.

“Oh, I definitely do.” I angled in close enough that my lips skimmed his ear, and he jumped. “Thank you for taking the time to prepare lunch for me, George.” He shivered. “And thank you for worrying about me.”

“You’re, um. You’re welcome.” George didn’t move, but he was back to being stiff as a board so I shifted out of the way to give him space to process. Our dynamic had evolved in the last few hours and it was jarring. He hadn’t expected sincerity. And given what I was beginning to suspect about his past relationship, I highly doubted George was used to it.

Hell, neither was I.

I didn’t normally interact with people without a mask in place.

“What did you get for you?” I asked him, leaning an elbow on the table so I could watch the production that was his face. So many emotions flitted across it. Gotta catch ’em all, the Pokemon theme played in the back of my mind .

“I’m not hungry.”

“ Georgie .” My voice dropped in warning, and he sighed.

“I’m really not, I had a big breakfast. And my stomach is…” he trailed off, eyes darting to June who was still politely observing us from the other side of the table.

“Your stomach is?” I pushed.

George scooted in, closing the distance I’d just created between us, clearly embarrassed. “I’m still feeling anxious. My stomach’s in knots.”

“Oh.” My heart gave a squeeze for an entirely new reason. The fact that he’d admitted that to me at all showed how far we’d come in such a short amount of time. I really didn’t want to fuck this up. I had no idea what I was doing. “How about we save one of these for later?” I grabbed one of the three unnecessarily large sandwiches. “That way, when you’re feeling a bit more settled, you can eat it.”

George sagged, the strain in his shoulders bleeding away as he nodded. “That would be acceptable, yes.”

So fucking cute.

“Do you want a couple bites of my potato salad?” I offered after setting his sandwich to the side for safe-keeping. “Might help.”

“I…maybe.” George glanced at the plate, plucking anxiously at his hair before he caught himself and dropped his hand.

“Just try one. Like the stepping stones.” The potato salad was less intimidating than the sandwich and I hoped that once he got a bite down he’d realize he was hungry enough to manage another. George nodded, reaching for my fork—the only fork he’d grabbed—before hovering it above the food.

“I’ll need to get you another fork,” he informed me with a frown.

“We can share. I don’t mind Georgie-cooties.”

At that, June made a noise. I glared at her, and her eyes went wide and apologetic. She clearly hadn’t meant to react—it had simply slipped out. Luckily, George was too busy having a stare down with the salad to have noticed .

Don’t, I mouthed with a glare.

I’m not, June mouthed back.

My attention was quickly stolen by George again as he violently stabbed a potato. I didn’t dare tease him, worried I’d break his concentration. After he’d swallowed it, a small smile tugged proudly at his lips. Without prompting, he went in for another bite.

I grabbed my first sandwich and took a big bite out of it, wagging my eyebrows his way encouragingly. What started out as slow-paced tiny bird bites turned into average-paced tiny bird bites. George ate a quarter of my potato salad while I tried to pretend like I wasn’t staring.

Apparently I failed, because he glared at me. “Stop staring.”

“I’m not—” I lied, quickly turning my attention to June because I totally had been staring, and we both knew it.

“How was the hike?” June asked, probably figuring enough awkward silence had passed for it to be time to break it.

“You didn’t miss much,” I shrugged, playing off the snake misadventure for what it was. The last thing I wanted was to poke George’s open wound.

“How come you’re back earlier than everyone else?”

“It’s hot as balls outside. I decided to take a swim in the creek,” I answered, a half-truth. “Needed some dry clothes after.”

“Idiot.” June laughed, amused. I grinned back. “Man, I wish I could’ve gone. My boob sweat has boob sweat. A dip in the creek sounds lovely.”

George choked.

She’d find out the full story later when Roderick returned, but I refused to hurt George’s feelings by bringing it up. The last thing he needed was to be put under a microscope when he was already feeling vulnerable and anxious.

“There’s a sunrise hike tomorrow,” I reminded her as if she hadn’t been the person who’d written the entire itinerary herself. “Same trail.” She had a horrible memory. Like a fucking goldfish. “That can be your redo. I recommend packing a swimsuit.” I’d have to warn her about the snakes if Roderick didn’t.

“Oh, right! I forgot about that.” I rolled my eyes fondly. “Roddy and I are going,” June beamed, excited. “Are you?”

“After the bonfire tonight?” I frowned at her like she was out of her mind, because she was. “Hell no.”

“Huh.” June blinked, frowning, like I hadn’t repeatedly told her this during the initial planning phase.

“Dad and I pointed out how sadistic that choice was, like six times.”

“Okay but?—”

“I know, I know. It’s your wedding and your plan and blah blah blah —” I changed the cadence of my voice to mimic hers. “ No , Alex. You don’t understand. It’s so romantic !” I took another bite of my sandwich, shaking my head with amusement before dropping my impression of her to play my own role in this conversation. “But June, don’t you think it’s a bad idea to do both events consecutively? Shouldn’t we break it up?” I had my Juniper impression down to a T—had since we were kids, a fact that caused her a lot of ire. “No, no. Ugh! You’re such a boy. You just don’t understand. It’s the only day that could possibly work.”

No reaction.

None.

Not even a smile.

“Do you think the others won’t want to go?” June asked without acknowledging my teasing, brow furrowed. “On the hike I mean. Because of the bonfire.”

“I would bet my left ass cheek the only people waking up at sunrise are you and Rod.”

June processed this. I had no idea why she was acting so shocked. This had been a point of contention between us the entire time we’d been planning. I’d told her it was a bad idea, and she’d refused to hear reason. “You know what? I actually don’t care.” June’s smile came back. “In fact, even better! Romantic sunrise stroll alone with Rod? Hell yeah.”

“You enjoy that,” I said, finishing my first sandwich with a little sigh. I really had been hungry. And though at first I’d judged George for bringing me this much food, I was grateful for it now as I plucked open the wrapper on the second sandwich and began to devour that too. “I’m going to enjoy my nice cozy tent. And the fact I get to sleep in. Because this is technically a vacation. And I am expecting to be hung over,” I managed around my mouthful.

Tomorrow I’d be right back in wedding-task mode, and I figured I at least deserved a solid night's rest before lake day. I didn’t have a lot of opportunities to relax, given I was in charge of everything. I planned to take advantage.

“Speaking of alcohol—” June began. For a solid fifteen minutes, we discussed the plans for the bonfire that night, and all the while, George nibbled on my potato salad, content to eavesdrop.

It was nice.

He smiled a few times when June and I would quip at each other, but otherwise, didn’t weigh in. It was…comfortable in a way I’d never expected. And the one time George spoke up to tease June, it made me grin so hard it felt like my face was going to break.

I didn’t end up getting Georgie-cooties.

Because he finished the potato salad all on his own.

And when he tried to apologize when he’d realized what he’d done, I simply shook my head, offered him the third sandwich, and felt proud. Because somehow, someway, I’d been able to set George at ease enough that he’d been able to eat despite all that he’d been through today.

I’d taken care of him.

Just like he’d taken care of me.

And I had never felt more accomplished in all my life.

Or more terrified of why that was.