Fox still hadn’t returned to bed by the time Summer woke on his own without an alarm the next morning.
He had a moment of panic—until he remembered it was Saturday.
But he curled up on his side for long minutes, just staring at the empty half of the bed, and wondered if Fox had even come back last night and Summer had just slept through it, or...
Or if Fox was avoiding him.
He was starting to think the latter, when he dragged himself up to shower and there was no sign of Fox anywhere; the scent of mint still lingered, though not as strong or overpowering, but his tools and herbs had been put away.
But there were several fresh muffins left warming in the oven for Summer.
No note this time, but...
This was starting to become routine.
And he smiled to himself as he settled in to read the news on his phone over breakfast, before ducking himself into the shower and then dressing and heading out into town. He’d promised his mother he’d stop in today, both to help with the yard and just to visit; considering she was half the reason he’d moved back, she’d been remarkably adamant about insisting she didn’t need anything, no no, get settled in, don’t worry about her.
But she was all smiles, as Summer parked outside her house and stepped out—and she came tumbling out to meet him again. That was just how Lily Hemlock was; why wait for guests to arrive when she could be so very happy to see anyone who came to her door that she just went rushing out to greet them?
“Summer.” She grasped him in a tight hug, nearly squeezing the life out of him, then laughed when he grunted, wiggling his fingers, arms trapped against his sides. “I missed you.”
“You kept telling me not to come,” he protested with a laugh.
“Oh, you know, I know you’re getting settled in, and so much work to get used to—I didn’t want to be a bother.” She swatted his chest lightly, then caught his hand and nearly dragged him inside. “It doesn’t mean I didn’t miss you.”
Summer just smiled down at her fondly, letting himself be ushered into the house. “I missed you too, Mom. And I’m here all day, if you need me.”
“Don’t say that or I’ll put you to work in the garden.” Her eyes glittered as she glanced at him, then pushed him toward one of the kitchen chairs. “Let me feed you first. I’ve still got some pancakes left over. You just missed Fox, by the way. By fifteen minutes.”
Summer nearly missed the edge of his chair, and went plunking half toward the floor before he caught himself on the edge of the kitchen table and dragged himself up, settling clumsily on the seat and staring at his mother.
“Fox...was here...?” he asked, mouth dry.
“Oh, yes.” Bustling about busily, his mother piled a plate high with pancakes, even though Summer had no appetite—but no heart to tell her that, either. “Showed up quite out of the blue. I haven’t seen him in months, and I...well.” She clucked her tongue. “He was smiling. And actually stayed for tea. He always says no, but he’s...well. Something’s different. Whatever do you think has gotten into that man?”
It’s more like who he’s gotten into, Summer thought, but clamped down on his tongue hard.
He didn’t want to think it was because of him, anyway.
But he could hope.
“I, um... I really wouldn’t know,” he said, fumbling around his teeth, his tongue. “He’s pretty hard to read sometimes.”
“Is he?” She slid the stack of pancakes in front of him, the bottle of syrup following almost like a challenge. “I’ve always thought he was quite painfully simple.”
“Really?” Reluctantly, Summer picked up his fork. He loved his mother’s cooking, just...he’d already eaten at Fox’s, but he didn’t want the hangdog, sad look that would come if he turned her down. “Maybe you could explain to me, then, because he’s driving me sideways just trying to understand what he wants.”
“Fox wants what anyone wants, dear.” Lily settled in the chair adjacent to his, and rested her warm, thin hand to his wrist, watching him with her eyes clear and soft and sympathetic. “To never hurt again. The problem is...even as old as he is, he’s never realized that that’s not possible. Not unless you shut yourself away completely, so that you can’t feel anything at all. And that’s no way to live.”
Summer bit his lip, poking at his pancakes, leaving little rows of four holes in the stack. “I want to tell him hurting is just a part of life,” he murmured. “But I... I can’t imagine what he feels to even say that. It feels disrespectful. I was so young when Dad died... I don’t even remember how it hurt.”
“I do,” Lily said softly. “Your father was the love of my life, and there’ll never be another. Losing him shattered me, but that doesn’t mean I would let myself stop feeling everything just to avoid that pain.” She smiled, then, and offered her hand to Summer. “If I had, I’d never have been able to love you...and I couldn’t live without that, my precious boy.”
Summer set his fork down and slipped his hand into his mother’s, clasping tight. It ached to think how old she was; that one day she’d be gone, too, and he’d learn what that pain felt like all too deeply.
But he had her now.
That warm, soft hand in his, so very real and here and now.
Sometimes that was all that mattered was having now, instead of worrying about what might come later, or when now would inevitably end.
Everything ended.
Just because things ended was no reason to avoid beginning them at all.
He smiled, running his thumb over his mother’s knuckles. “Love you too, Mom. I just...wish it was as easy to say that to Fox.”
His mother arched a sly brow that said she knew far more than she let on.
