and when he sees me notice he clamps his teeth together, popping the muscle in his cheek.
“Oh.” I clap my hands together. “I have this great sci-fi book that you’d love. Every time I read it, I’m reminded of you. Hold on.” I jump up and jog to my car, clutching my skirt in hand so I don’t trip. In the car, I snatch up my purse and rummage through it until I find the book. I simultaneously pull it out and back away from the car before I jog back to Will.
“Here. It’s fabulous.” I toss the book in his lap and plop down next to him.
He holds it up and turns to face me. “You really liked it?”
“Yeah, crazy good. It’s not worn because I bought it secondhand or anything.” I lovingly caress the heavily creased spine and dog-eared pages. “It’s worn because I read it that much.”
His smile is open and wide when he says, “I wrote it, Jo. The second one comes out today. I don’t really travel, so I concede to my publisher’s request and do local signings.”
My mind buzzes. My favorite book was written by my brother. More importantly, he referred to Daytona as local.
“You live nearby?”
He cups his chin in his hand. His fingers turn slightly white as he squeezes it before he lets go. Suddenly, he stands. “I live in Gainesville,” he says in one breath.
“Oh, that’s pretty close.” About two hours away. What an incredible stroke of luck that I decided to start in Daytona.
“Why Gainesville?” I search my mind for the research I did on various Florida cities, trying to find one that might appeal to Will. Gainesville has a top-notch university, football, and is nowhere near the beach as it’s closer to the center of the state. None of the things would have appealed to the brother I knew.
Pointing to his scar, he says, “They have an incredible brain institute. Since this thing is the product of a traumatic brain injury, I thought it made sense.”
I nod in understanding. “I see.”
I must be the dumbest person in the world, not thinking about his TBI. I searched artist communes, dude ranches, and ski resorts. I attended bike rallies in South Dakota. All of which were dead ends. But favorite places and hobbies of the boy I knew were all I had to go on. At least I was right about motorcycles, though I’d have guessed BMW before Harley.
“I never considered your head injury,” I mumble to myself in contempt. I want to know if the injury affects him, or rather, how it affects him, but I’m afraid to ask, to push him into a place where he’s not comfortable because this is a new Will I’m getting to know. This person is so much like the boy I grew up with but so different, and the water I’m treading might have a riptide.
He cocks his head to one side and looks at me. “What do you know about my accident?”
I look past his shoulder, letting the events flash through my mind. Putting words to the vision makes my heart ache. “Just that you got stuck in the horrible storm, skidded on the bridge, and went over the side.”
Will stares at me, searching my face for something, I’m not sure what. “That’s it?”
“Yeah. Isn’t that it?”
He shrugs at my question so I continue. “You’ve been in Gainesville for seven years?” I’m desperate to know more about him.
“No, but that a story for another time.” He moves to a saddlebag and undoes the latch, pulls out a book, and tosses it to me. It’s his new release. I smile up at him and clutch it to my chest.
“Thanks. Now I’ll be up reading all night.”
A tinge of pink colors his cheek and I’m awed by this. As children, he was always the bold go-getter. Nothing stood in his way. He was purposeful and determined and certainly not the type to blush easily. Whereas, I was. Quiet, and in his shadow, I let Will lead the charge. Until the day he wasn’t there any longer.
I pull the book away to look at the cover. “Hey, why Sam Frenick?” I ask, pointing to his pseudonym. His middle name is Samuel, so
“Oh.” I clap my hands together. “I have this great sci-fi book that you’d love. Every time I read it, I’m reminded of you. Hold on.” I jump up and jog to my car, clutching my skirt in hand so I don’t trip. In the car, I snatch up my purse and rummage through it until I find the book. I simultaneously pull it out and back away from the car before I jog back to Will.
“Here. It’s fabulous.” I toss the book in his lap and plop down next to him.
He holds it up and turns to face me. “You really liked it?”
“Yeah, crazy good. It’s not worn because I bought it secondhand or anything.” I lovingly caress the heavily creased spine and dog-eared pages. “It’s worn because I read it that much.”
His smile is open and wide when he says, “I wrote it, Jo. The second one comes out today. I don’t really travel, so I concede to my publisher’s request and do local signings.”
My mind buzzes. My favorite book was written by my brother. More importantly, he referred to Daytona as local.
“You live nearby?”
He cups his chin in his hand. His fingers turn slightly white as he squeezes it before he lets go. Suddenly, he stands. “I live in Gainesville,” he says in one breath.
“Oh, that’s pretty close.” About two hours away. What an incredible stroke of luck that I decided to start in Daytona.
“Why Gainesville?” I search my mind for the research I did on various Florida cities, trying to find one that might appeal to Will. Gainesville has a top-notch university, football, and is nowhere near the beach as it’s closer to the center of the state. None of the things would have appealed to the brother I knew.
Pointing to his scar, he says, “They have an incredible brain institute. Since this thing is the product of a traumatic brain injury, I thought it made sense.”
I nod in understanding. “I see.”
I must be the dumbest person in the world, not thinking about his TBI. I searched artist communes, dude ranches, and ski resorts. I attended bike rallies in South Dakota. All of which were dead ends. But favorite places and hobbies of the boy I knew were all I had to go on. At least I was right about motorcycles, though I’d have guessed BMW before Harley.
“I never considered your head injury,” I mumble to myself in contempt. I want to know if the injury affects him, or rather, how it affects him, but I’m afraid to ask, to push him into a place where he’s not comfortable because this is a new Will I’m getting to know. This person is so much like the boy I grew up with but so different, and the water I’m treading might have a riptide.
He cocks his head to one side and looks at me. “What do you know about my accident?”
I look past his shoulder, letting the events flash through my mind. Putting words to the vision makes my heart ache. “Just that you got stuck in the horrible storm, skidded on the bridge, and went over the side.”
Will stares at me, searching my face for something, I’m not sure what. “That’s it?”
“Yeah. Isn’t that it?”
He shrugs at my question so I continue. “You’ve been in Gainesville for seven years?” I’m desperate to know more about him.
“No, but that a story for another time.” He moves to a saddlebag and undoes the latch, pulls out a book, and tosses it to me. It’s his new release. I smile up at him and clutch it to my chest.
“Thanks. Now I’ll be up reading all night.”
A tinge of pink colors his cheek and I’m awed by this. As children, he was always the bold go-getter. Nothing stood in his way. He was purposeful and determined and certainly not the type to blush easily. Whereas, I was. Quiet, and in his shadow, I let Will lead the charge. Until the day he wasn’t there any longer.
I pull the book away to look at the cover. “Hey, why Sam Frenick?” I ask, pointing to his pseudonym. His middle name is Samuel, so
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