Make a Wish (Spark House #3)(44)

And then there’s the giant elephant that’s still stomping around between us in the form of what almost happened before he decided to move.

“I almost kissed him once,” I blurt.

London’s eyes go wide. “Recently?”

I shake my head. “When Peyton was a baby, just before he moved away.”

London nods slowly. “I wondered if there was more going on back then. You were so broken up about it when they moved. At first I thought it was because you’d lived with the family for more than a year, which you hadn’t done before. But you seemed so unsure of your path after that.”

“I was unsure. I couldn’t believe I had crossed that line.” I wanted to find a way to heal from the loss of losing our parents, but instead, I was creating even bigger holes. So I switched gears and surrounded myself with the people I loved and relied on the most: my sisters.

“Do you want to tell me what happened to inspire the almost-kiss?” London asks.

So I explain what transpired that night. How Peyton had been teething, that Gavin was overworked and not coping well, and I’d found him in the kitchen and consoled him. How I leaned in to kiss him, and he stopped me before I did.

“Have you ever talked about it since then?”

I shake my head. “I had just gotten up the nerve to apologize when he told me he was moving to Boulder to be closer to his in-laws.”

“What about since he’s moved back?” Her expression is full of concern.

“No. I haven’t had the guts to ask him. And we’re always with Peyton, so…” But that’s not entirely true, because we have been alone since then, not for long periods of time, but long enough that I could ask.

“Are you afraid of the answer?” she asks softly.

I sigh. “He told me he wanted to be closer to his in-laws.”

“But you didn’t believe him.”

“I always felt like I was the reason he made the move. Or at least the thing that pushed him over the edge. And after they moved, it made me question everything. I felt … betrayed, maybe? Lost? I’d spent all that time with Peyton, taken care of her, made things as easy as I could for her and Gavin, and they disappeared from my life. It hurt, maybe more than I wanted to admit or even realized at the time. But I couldn’t do that again, get attached like that. I understand that he was still grieving over losing Marcie, but that didn’t make their moving any less difficult.”

“Is he still grieving her now?” London asks.

“I don’t know.” Do you ever stop grieving a loved one?

London reaches out and squeezes my hand. “Give yourself some time to get over Chad before you jump into something new. Just because you weren’t in love with him doesn’t mean you don’t need some time to get your head around the breakup. And whatever is going on with you and Gavin, if and when you decide to pursue it, please take it slow. It’s not just you and Gavin that you need to think about.”

“I know. Peyton is a big part of the equation.”

“Whatever you choose, make sure that you’re doing this for the right reasons, and not as a way to keep Peyton in your life again,” she says gently.

I want to be reassured, but I’m nervous.

And she’s right. Regardless of whether breaking up with Chad was the right thing to do, I need to give myself time to let go of that relationship fully before I pursue another one.

Not to mention I still have no idea whether Gavin is interested in me like that.



* * *



I throw myself into work over the weekend, not wanting to focus too much on what’s going on in my life or how it feels a lot like I’m floating through it, never really able to find my footing.

On Sunday afternoon Grandma Spark calls me on video chat. We try to make it a weekly thing, but sometimes her internet reception isn’t all that great.

Today, though, she’s sitting outside, drinking a glass of red wine, wearing a wide-brim hat, looking relaxed and happy. Her hair is longer these days, pulled back in a ponytail, flyaway wisps fluttering around her face. It’s been white for as long as I remember. Like me, she was a blond when she was younger, but it went white when she was in her mid-forties. The corners of her eyes crinkle when she smiles, and there are laugh lines around her mouth. She always talks about how she’s earned every one of her wrinkles and that they’re an homage to everything she’s been through.

“How’s my favorite Harley?” she asks.

“I’m good. How are you?” I prop my chin on my fist and smile.

Her eyes narrow and she purses her lips. “I don’t believe you for a second. What’s wrong? Did you have a fight with your sisters? Is it Spark House–related?”

I shake my head. “No. Nothing like that. Spark House is doing great.”

“Hmm.” She sips her wine. “Spark House is becoming its own force, which is wonderful and awful. It can be hard to keep your head above water when the current is too strong.”

I chuckle. “You see everything, don’t you?”

“I’ve been keeping my eye on social media. I know when it’s your posts or when it’s the ones that the Wizard of Social Media Oz is posting. There’s a difference in voice. Let’s come back to Spark House though, since it’s not going anywhere. What’s happening that’s making you look like a lost soul?”