I HAVE A CONFESSION

I told you the crying wolf thing was going to get you in trouble one day,” I say, trying to be playful, though my voice is still full of very real concern that is in no way an act.

Mike grunts, but he does manage a small smile that I feel is just for me. And dang, if that smile doesn’t light up every corner of a world I didn’t know was so very, very dark before.

“Are we ready to continue?” The frazzled JP, who I had forgotten about completely, finally steps back toward us. He snaps open his binder and winces like it’s going to trigger a second big fall.

Mike grasps my hands again. Both of them. What do you know? It’s official. The storm of butterflies in my gut has turned into a full-on murder of crows. That’s what a group of crows is called, in case you didn’t know. A murder. Very, very interesting.

I’m ready.” Mike squeezes my hand. The squeeze goes up through my arm and explodes to the rest of my body.

I have to squeeze back. It’s just another instinct, and it’s polite, the right t