Fortuity (Transcend 3)

Nate’s gaze falls to my chest and the heel of my hand rubbing circles over it. “Him. You miss your brother.”

More tears burn my eyes, but they’re no longer tears of laughter. “Yeah,” I whisper.

“It gets easier, but it never disappears. I still think of so many funny moments I shared with my wife. I just don’t think of them quite as often. And when I do, they don’t make me as sad. After I brought Morgan home, I found myself saying Jenna’s name aloud when Morgan would do something cute. I wanted to share it with her.”

“Exactly …” I curl my hair behind my ears. “A week before we moved here, I couldn’t find the spare key fob to Kyle’s Land Rover, so I called him. I. Called. My. Dead. Brother’s. Phone. How crazy is that? And I can’t tell you how many nights I sit next to Gabe on the sofa, watching a movie, and for a split second my mind actually thinks, ‘I wonder if they’ll be home soon.’ Because when I used to visit them, I’d babysit Gabe so they could have a night out alone.”

He nods several times, the smile on his face fading a fraction as is mine. I guess there’s no easy way to talk about lost wives and brothers without it stealing something from the moment.

That’s okay. Right? Death should steal a tiny piece of happiness from the living for approximately eternity. It means that person’s life meant something to someone. I wonder if I will steal a piece of anyone’s happiness when I die?

“I should get back. How much do we really know about Mr. Hans? We’re here and he’s alone with our children.”

Nate’s eyes flare. “Shit. You’re right.”

We stand at the same time and make a beeline for the door. I slip on my canvas shoes, but Nate doesn’t bother to put shoes on at all.

“You’re such a bad influence,” he mumbles, following me out the door.

I whip around before we make it to the porch stairs. “Me? No way, buddy!” I poke my finger into his chest.

He grins, grabbing my hand and just … holding it at his chest while we mirror the most contagious smile. The warm feeling in my belly blooms to life again. I don’t even remind myself of my man ban because after thinking about Kyle and Emily—after missing them yet again—I need this feeling. A temporary Band-Aid on my heart.

Nate’s thumb feathers over my wrist, arresting my breath as a wave of goose bumps shoots up my arms. For one insane I-will-never-ever-think-about-it-again second, I wonder what it would feel like to kiss him.

One.

Okay … I’m done thinking about it.

I slide my hand from his and offer a shaky smile just before turning back around and skipping down the porch steps. “Bad influence my ass,” I say just loud enough for him to hear me.

“Elvis, your ass is a lot of things, but a bad influence is not one of them.”

Holy shit. Shit. Shit. Shit!

I stop.

He stops.

We stand in silence, a small line of two.

Sweat pours out from my armpits, so I hold my arms close to my body.

“Shit. I just made things awkward. I … I’m sorry I said that. It just came out. And nothing like that has left my mouth in many years. Not since … well … many years,” he talks to my back.

I talk to my nipples and nether region, telling them to cool the hell off.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

I need to respond. What do I say? He feels bad. I feel like a volcano. It was inappropriate.

Yet, I secretly want to fist-pump the air, run to my bedroom, and do some weird dance only a giddy young girl would do.

Clearing my throat, I force my legs to take me to the house. “It’s not your fault I have such a great ass.”

Biggest lie I’ve ever told. I do not think I have a great ass. Not even good. It’s adequate at best. However, I have nothing to lose when I’m on a man ban, so I just own it like I’ve never owned anything before this moment. And I add some extra sway for good measure.

“’Bout time.” Mr. Hans shuts off the television and sits up in his chair. “Sorry, Elvis, I couldn’t stop Gabe from eating chips for breakfast because you took too long.”

Dammit!

Hugh’s gaze drops to my hands and then to Nate standing behind me. “No eggs? Did you bring back my stud finder?”

Whipping around to face Nate, I cringe. “Oh my gosh! I … I totally spaced my whole reason for going over to your house. You were exercising…” with your shirt off, but never mind that “…and you offered me coffee. And we started talking, and I completely forgot.”

In a nutshell, I forgot more than the stud finder because of shirtless Nate. I also forgot to discuss my stripping incidents.