Page 38 of Handful

Austen glanced at me, then back. “I figured.”

“You ride?” Heather’s eyes went over Austen’s gear.

“He put me on the bike two weekends ago. Today’s the longest ride.”

“And?”

“Terrifying. Beautiful. I understand why he does it.”

I wanted to pick her up and spin her right there on Mark’s front porch. I also wanted to put her back on the bike, turn around, and not stop until I had her in my room, on my bed, with the door locked. I kept my face level.

Heather’s arms came down. She stepped back from the door. “Coffee’s inside. Boys are in the shed.”

No warmth, no speech. But I’d known Heather nine years, and uncrossed arms meant something. Austen had passed the test.

Owen and Finn came around the side of the house at speed. Owen first — taller every month, darker, his father’s build starting to show — and Finn behind him, still small, still running like the ground might open up beneath him if he stopped.

“Uncle Tyler!”

Finn hit me around the waist and Owen came in a second behind, shoulder to my ribs. I got an arm around each of them. Then Owen pulled back and stared at Austen.

“Who’s that?”

“This is Austen. My girlfriend.”

Owen processed this. “You have a girlfriend?”

“Don’t sound so surprised.”

“Mom said you’d never bring a girl here.”

“Mom was wrong.”

“Mom’s never wrong,” Finn said, with the absolute conviction of an eight-year-old.

Austen crouched down to Finn’s level — no performance in it, just bent her knees and got to where he was.

“I’m Austen,” she said. “Tyler talks about you all the time.”

Finn studied her with enormous gravity. “Do you like dirt bikes?”

“I’ve never been on one.”

“You should try. Uncle Tyler taught us. He’s really good at it.” He paused. “You can wear my helmet.”

Owen, behind Finn, was looking at Austen with a different expression — not the open friendliness of his brother but the careful assessment of a kid who’d been watching adults long enough to know that new people changed the balance of things. He was weighing her.

“Do you like soccer?”

“I played in college.”

Owen’s eyes widened. The reserve broke. “Really?”

“Left wing. I was terrible, but I was fast.”

“I’m fast.”

“Prove it.”