Free Steering the Stars by Autumn Doughton, Erica Cope Page B

“Caroline, that wasn’t a pity offer.”
           I wasn’t buying what he was selling, but I wasn’t going to be a jerk about it. “Sure, I’ll keep it in mind.”
           “Okay, then.”
           “Okay.” We had reached my yard.
           “So, show me this broken gate,” Henry said.
           “Don’t worry about it,” I told him. “I’m going to take a shower right now. I’ll figure it out later and go get screws or whatever I need.”             
           Henry nodded slowly. “All right. And what car are you going to use to get there?”
           “That’s right,” I said exasperatedly. “My life!”
            He chuckled. “Come on. Why don’t you get Aspen inside and go change while I look at the gate. Then we can hit the store and get it over with.”
           “I can’t let you do that.”
           “You’re not letting me do anything.”
           “But—”
           “Get upstairs and change!” He placed his hands on my lower back and pushed.
           Laughing, I shouted back, “I’m going! I’m going!”
            Ten minutes later, I was in a dry long-sleeved shirt and a fresh pair of jeans, riding in the passenger seat of Henry’s car.
            Libby Park slipped by as I peered out the window. I had lived here my entire life and, really, nothing had changed. It was the kind of place where people got in each other’s business. We had block parties and bingo nights and summer carnivals. Life here revolved around high school sports and stupid gossip like whether or not Mr. and Mrs. Finnegan, the couple who owned the small grocery store on the corner of Malvern Road and Hill Street, were going to get that divorce they’d been threatening for years now.
           Most of the stores were locally owned places that had been run by the same family for generations. At least we had a Starbucks, but it seemed like nothing new or exciting ever came. I’d been dreaming about a movie theater with stadium seating for years but, heck, I’d settle for a P.F. Chang’s or a Hobby Lobby.
           “We’re going to be able to repair the existing lock instead of buying a new one so why don’t you look for these nuts and bolts,” Henry told me when we walked into the hardware store. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a bolt and a rusted metal circle. I held out my hand and he pressed the metal pieces into my palm, our fingers brushing.
           I had the craziest thought about how easy it would be to wind the rest of our fingers together. And, like I was watching someone else’s hand, I saw my palm press gently against his.
            Henry startled before subtly pulling back. “Get four that are this size.”
           I wanted to die. What was wrong with me? Had I completely lost my ever-loving mind? Was Hannah’s absence leaving me so starved for attention that I was baiting her older brother into touching me?
           Cheeks flaming, I managed to squeak out a weak, “Okay.”
            “I’m going to go get WD-40 and a bottle of Gorilla Glue.”
            “Uh-huh.”
            “You sure you got that?”
           I tried to cover up my mortification by haughtily saying, “I know my way around the hardware store. My dad’s a contractor. Remember? He used to bring me with him all the time when I was a kid.”
            Henry smiled. “Then I’ll find you in a few minutes.”
            “Sure,” I responded, walking away.
           It didn’t take long to find what I was looking for. I had been telling the truth about knowing my way around building supplies because of my dad. He used to love having me tag along. But that was before.
           As I turned over the nuts and bolts in my hand and looked down the aisle for Henry, I noticed a man in a motorized cart attempting to get around a tight corner. It looked