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“She never smoked a day in her life. That’s the awful part. My dad used to smoke when he was younger and she made him quit, but…” I lift my arms and drop them at my sides with a thump. “I told you, bad luck.”

He whips his head to me. “Don’t say that. Your mom getting sick has nothing to do with you.”

“Yeah, I know, but⁠—”

He curls his hands around my shoulders, shaking me slightly as if it’ll knock some sense into me. “But nothing. I don’t know why that idea is in your head, but you are not bad luck. If anything, everyone else is lucky you’re in their life. Don’t let me hear you say that shit again.”

“Or what?” I tease, because if I don’t find humor in it, I might find something much more devastating in the meaning of his words.

“Or…” His eyes drift between mine, easing me toward him so slowly I don’t even realize it’s happening until my chest is against his, and his breath is hot on my lips.

“Are you coming?”

He and I break apart at Noah’s shout, and Austin clears his throat, combing his fingers through his hair. “I, uh… I’ll be right there!”

Then he scoots out of the house to his truck for an extra mitt that he keeps in the back, for occasions of playing catch with a ten-year-old, I guess. Outside, I take a seat on the steps while Austin and Noah throw back and forth in our small yard. I play the soundtrack to Footloose, and Mom bobs her head. She loves the movie too. Even Noah knows the words to “Let’s Hear It for the Boy,” and I feel more than hear Austin’s chuckle when he slips into the spot beside me while Noah does a silly dance to the song.

It’s a tight fit, Austin and me on the cracked cement step between the railings on either side, and our shoulders rub with every movement. Noah proceeds to take out every possible toy that is packed away. He pulls out his bike, scooter, and soccer net, showing off for Austin, who cheers him on good-naturedly. And the air is so warm, the sunset so pretty, it’s impossible for my limbs not to turn to jelly. Without thinking about it, I settle my head on Austin’s thick shoulder, and I close my eyes, enjoying the rumble of his voice in my ear as he instructs Noah on his swing when the tee makes an appearance.

It is a perfect night.

Yet all great things must eventually come to an end. Mom says she’s cold, and Noah has school tomorrow, so we need to get to bed. Inside, Mom hugs Austin, and his body encompasses her so completely, the only thing I can see are her arms around his middle. She whispers something to him that I think sounds like, “Thank you for taking such good care of her,” before they let go. Noah has a hug for Austin too, and my heart threatens to leap out of my throat at the way Austin rubs the back of Noah’s hair. So naturally paternal.

It’s almost heartbreaking.

Then the two head upstairs, leaving me to walk Austin to the door. “We’re a hugging family, if you couldn’t tell. Hope you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind.”

“It was a hard lesson for me to learn. Not to go around hugging strangers.”

He scratches at his beard. “That’s funny. My family didn’t hug. Ever.”

“But that’s not funny,” I say with a frown, which only makes his eyes crinkle and him clear his throat before agreeing with me.

“No, it’s not funny.”

“It’s sad, actually.”

He lifts a thick shoulder. “Never really thought about it until now.”

“Thought about what?”

“What I might be like now if I’d had hugs like that growing up.”

Whatever this man has inside him, there are layers. I am not at all equipped to understand what’s beneath each one, which is why I slug him in the arm. “You look like a natural doing it, though. Doling out hugs like a champ.”

After a beat, he looks down to where I hit him on the bicep then back at me. “That hurt.”

“That didn’t hurt.”

“It did. I think I need a hug now.”

“You know you don’t have to make up a story for a hug. You could just ask for one.”

“Can I have a hug, Millie?”

“Of course.” I open my arms to him, but instead of bending me to like he did with Mom and Noah, he loops his arms around my middle and lifts me gently, so the tips of my toes barely touch the floor. I have no choice but to wrap my arms around his neck, and because it’s too tempting not to, I comb my fingers into his hair. He groans and tucks his face into the crook of my neck, inhaling deeply.