Page 99 of The Birthday List (Maysen Jar 1)

My heart was racing

but I ignored its drumming beat and began kneading my thumbs into the base of his neck.

“You don’t have to do this.”

I added more pressure. “Just close your eyes and relax.”

Cole gave me a faint nod and then hung his head again, relaxing with every passing second as I worked up and down his neck, then back and forth across his shoulders.

“Is it helping?”

He nodded. “You have magic hands.”

“If the restaurant doesn’t work out, maybe I’ll become a massage therapist.”

A quiet laugh came from deep in his chest, the rumble sending tingles skittering over my forearms. “Talk to me about something. Your voice is soothing.”

My hands paused. No one had ever complimented my voice before. It was funny how a little bit of his praise made me like something about myself I hadn’t really considered special before. So if my voice would help soothe Cole’s headache after a long day of literally hauling me around, I’d read him my grocery list. “What do you want me to talk about?”

“Anything. How about your family? Are you close with your parents?”

The thought of them warmed my heart. “I am. We don’t get to see each other much but I talk to them both a couple times a week. And they always come down for Kali’s and Max’s birthdays and for Christmas too.”

“When was the last time you were in Alaska?”

“Two years ago. I went up not long before I bought the garage and started renovating it for the restaurant. I spent a couple of weeks up there getting my dad’s advice on my business plan and having my mom help me brainstorm a full menu.”

My hands dug harder into Cole’s neck, working away one of the knots.

“What do your parents do?”

“Dad is a pilot. He has his own business flying supplies into northern Alaska. He’s built it up over the years and has a bunch of pilots working for him now. He could retire anytime, but he loves flying. And Mom is a private chef in Anchorage.”

“Is that where you got your love of cooking?”

I smiled. “Yes. Mom taught me how to cook.” She had passed down her passion for food, while Dad had paid for my business degree from Montana State. They’d both given me the tools to make food my career.

“What about your grandparents?”

My hands moved down Cole’s neck to his shoulders again. With every circle of my thumbs, the tension eased away. “They’re all still in Alaska. Dad’s parents live in the same place they have for fifty years, three blocks away from my parents’ house. And Mom’s parents are in a nursing home. They’re in their nineties now but otherwise in good health. Though neither of them can hear very well anymore.”

He sighed. “It’s nice that you still have all of them. My grandparents all passed when I was younger.”

“I’m sorry.”

Before Jamie, I’d never lost anyone. Maybe that was a tiny part of why his death had been so devastating. So shocking. It had been a wake-up call that the time we had with our loved ones was fleeting.

As if he could feel my moment of sadness, Cole reached up and put his hand over mine, squeezing once before dropping it back to his lap.

I rubbed his shoulders and neck for a while longer until my fingers finally wore out. But I didn’t want to stop touching Cole, so I inched my knees closer. My hands slid up his neck, past his ears and into his hair. “Lean back.”

Cole looked up at me through dark lashes, watching as my fingers massaged his scalp. “Magic fingers,” he whispered, “and beautiful eyes.”

My hands kept working at Cole’s hair as I held his gaze. The intensity between us grew with every passing second that we refused to break apart—refused to even blink.

And in that moment, I opened myself up completely to Cole. Without words, I told him how much he meant to me. How he’d stitched my broken pieces back together. And in his tender gaze—deep in his pale-green irises—he showed me a vulnerability I’d never seen. His eyes pleaded for me to take care of his heart.

I’d protect it always.