Page 28 of Lost and Found

“I never doubted they would be,” I say. “Even my mom talks up what a great dad Ellis is.”

Silas hums. “He is,” he says, waiting a few sidewalk squares before he asks, “So, how’s school been? You like it out here? Happy to be out of Spunes?”

I nearly give him my prepackaged answers, but the way his gemstone gaze holds on to mine and the genuine interest he doesn’t try to disguise makes me want to be forthcoming, too.

“School is . . . fine,” I say. “I’m majoring in communications because I still have no clue what I want to do. I don’t know that I feel passionate about any one subject. I feel more engaged and excited at both of my oddball jobs than I do in any of my classes.”

“You say that like you’re embarrassed about it.”

“It’s a little embarrassing to be out here wasting tens of thousands of my parents’ dollars all to ultimately conclude that I likepeople.”

My lips warm when his stare touches them. “Is that the part you like, then?” he asks. “The people?”

One of my jobs is at a cute décor boutique in town, and I love helping people pick things out for their spaces, as unimportantas that might seem. But my other job is nannying for a seven-year-old boy, Pacey, and I adore everything about it. I love when he’s naughty, probably because it always seems to be born out of boredom or curiosity, and it hasn’t ever included something severe. I love how we can invent a game for anything and add rules or change them as we go. His whole view of the world feels bright and limitless.Heis limitless. He loves to dance, and watching him do it makes me fight off tears every time. I hope no one ever takes that joy away from him. I’ve worked for his mom for two years, and the way he’s changed in that time frame is wild for me to fathom. Lately, he’s been discovering his sense of humor more and is always trying to score a laugh, even at my expense, but he can be the gentlest and most thoughtful little human at the same time. That kid can break my heart and put it back together in the span of a day. His mom will be done with her residency soon and my time with him will be finished, and I get slightly morose every time I think about it. It’s the most exhausting job I’ve ever had and by far the most rewarding. My days with Pacey feel like they have meaning, where I have to search for it everywhere else.

“I do like people, but . . . can I tell you a secret?” I dart a conspiratorial look at him.

“Secrets are famously my favorite,” Silas says.

I chew my bottom lip. “I miss home. More than being homesick, I think. I—god, I think I want to end up back in Spunes.” I say it self-deprecatingly to be safe. Like,How boring, how pedestrian, right?In truth, though, whenever I find myself daydreaming of my own kids, I always catch myself picturing Spunes in the background. Maybe I can’t imagine having them anywhere but the place I know best.

I wait a bit to look over at him again, but when I do, he’s beaming unabashedly. “Shut up,” I deadpan.

“I didn’t say anything.” He puts his palms up in surrender.

“Don’t gloat, Silas. Hasn’t anyone told you it’s unseemly?”

“Not when I do it,” he says with a noisy, happy sigh. “It’s just all my dreams coming true, Red.”

“Oh, give me a break.” I’m stuffed full of something giddy that wants to break loose.

“You and me in the same town, fighting this thing between us for decades,” he muses. “Maybe we end up with other people, even, but we’ll always wonder what might have been.” His smile brightens into something effervescent. He leans closer to my ear. “You know I think we have a few of those in Spunes, right? My money’s on Walter and Martha.”

I make an offended sound. “You think that soundsgood?” I say.

“No,” he says, the word carried on a laugh. “But if I said something about settling down and having my babies, you’d go running the other way.”

“You tease too much, Silas. It’ll get you in trouble one day.”

“Should that be your nickname?” he asks. “Trouble?”

“I think you’ve given me enough over the years.” Nicknames and trouble.

His grin sharpens. A knife at my pulse that does nothing but thrill me. I need to regroup, take back a little control. “Never,” he says, timbre dipping low.

I am weightless and boneless and hate how hard it is not to act twitterpated at him. I want to twirl my hair. Lick into his mouth and taste whatever he’ll say next. But I have enough wherewithal to know that the weed isn’t helping any of this. “Dial it down,” I say, unable to stop myself from sounding overcome. “I’m already walking you home, aren’t I?”

He must hear the truth in it, because his smile eases up. “Okay, Bea. I’ll go easy on you.”

I arch a brow. His bottom lip tucks behind his teeth.

A few more steps. Crickets singing through another chorus. “You really don’t reject anything about that?” I ask. “Settling?”

His head cocks like he’s weighing his thoughts. “Not really, no, but I guess . . . maybe after losing my parents, I’m not quick to let go of the other people in my life. Spunes stepped up for us, you know?” He hums again, like he is reaffirming this to himself, too. “The feeling is likely not mutual,” he adds with a laugh.

“Yeah, okay.” I roll my eyes and a muscle ripples up his jaw like he likes it. He’s drawn even closer to me somehow. “Everyone loves you, and you know it.”

“I wouldn’t say that.”