“I can walk you the rest of the way,” I say, unable to stop myself. “If you want.”
“I want,” he murmurs. “But you’ve got a build to protect.”
Regret and relief tangle together.
“Saturday, then,” I say, needing the certainty of it. “Lunch at my place. Jared and I will pick you up from the Market.”
“Saturday,” he agrees. “I’ll bring my appetite.”
He turns toward the cabin, his cane searching out the solid parts of the path.
I stay until he follows the curve out of view before I turn back toward the worksite, heart racing, focus shot, and flushed with awareness of what almost happened.
Chapter Sixteen
Grady
The Saturday Market hums with life around me, each step requiring careful navigation with my cane. Vendors call out their wares while visitors shuffle between stalls of glistening produce and handmade crafts.
Blake walks ahead with Quinn, her small hand gripping his sleeve while her other clutches Sprinkles’s service vest. Chloe strolls beside me, matching her pace to mine. Her pink hair catches sunlight each time she turns to scan a jewelry display or wave to a familiar face.
“Take your time,” Chloe murmurs, her fingers on my arm as I pause to rest my leg. “We have all morning.”
I adjust my grip on my cane, the wood warm in my palm. “I’m fine. Only admiring the pottery.”
Six months ago, she might have pressed me on it, worried about my discomfort. Now she allows me the dignity of my own limits. Growth, for both of us.
Ahead, Quinn tugs Blake toward a display of honey jars, the glass containers catching sunlight in amber prisms. Quinn’s head swivels as she peers around the crowd.
“She’s looking for someone,” I murmur to Chloe.
Chloe follows my gaze, her lips pursing. “Leif was supposed to meet us here. He texted Blake this morning about being under the weather.”
A frown tugs at my lips before I wipe it away. Chloe’s far too nosy. If she gets a single whiff of gossip, she’ll pester me to no end.
“Uncle Blake!” Quinn points to a display of autumn squash. “Can we get some for dinner? The star-shaped ones?”
Blake crouches to examine the acorn squash with exaggerated interest. “I’m sure Holden will know what to do with that. How many should we buy?”
She scrunches up her nose as she counts on her fingers. “Seven!”
His eyebrows shoot up. “Is one of those for Sprinkles?”
“Duh!”
While Blake completes the purchase, I use the moment to catch up, my cane finding purchase between cobblestones worn smooth by years of foot traffic. A vendor offers samples of apple cider, the liquid tart and cold on my tongue when I accept, and Chloe hands one to Quinn.
The little girl takes a tiny sip, and her nose wrinkles at the tartness. “Mr. Leif would like this. He loves sour things.” Uncertainty pinches her features as she passes the cup back to Blake. “Why did he stop coming to Market Day?”
Blake smooths a hand over the top of her head. “He’s just been busy, kiddo. The weekends are his free time, too.”
“But he used to spend the weekends with me.” Her fingers tighten on Sprinkles’s vest, and her shoulders rise with tension. “Why did he stop coming after I started school?”
Blake tugs on one of her pigtails. “I’m sure he’s figuring out the new normal, same as you.”
“Does he not like the school? Bethany’s mom saw the dean talking to Mr. Leif, and she said it sounded serious.” Her freehand twists in the fabric of her shirt. “Is he in trouble? We can go back to private lessons if he’s in trouble. I don’t really like school, anyway.”
Blake crouches in front of her, nudging her chin up. “Hey. You don’t have to love every minute of it, but school’s still important.”