Page 33
FIFTEEN
Collins
Ansel invited me to the weekly Saturday night poker game his family has, and because I’ve been enjoying this whole step out of the box you’ve sealed yourself in the last eighteen months thing, I agreed to go. Not because I’m any good at poker, but because for the first time in a very long time, the idea of being around people on a Saturday night is more appealing than holing myself up at home.
He offered to pick me up since he’s driving Hollis anyway, though I did ask if he could help me with something, so he’s coming to get me first.
After he tosses the last garbage bag full of donations into the rear of his truck, he turns to me. “That’s the last one?” It’s so cold, his breath comes out in a white puff.
“That’s it.”
He nods and walks to the passenger side of the truck, opening the door for me. I give him a small smile as I step up and climb in.
After Ansel gets in, he reverses down the driveway, his hand resting on my seat as he glances over his shoulder. Caleb used to always use his camera. This is hotter. Oh my god, why am I comparing them?
“How are you feeling?”
I never would have thought Ansel was a feelings guy, but he’s always checking in on me, and it’s nice.
Drawing in a breath, I let it out slowly. “It’s time.”
That’s all I can really say. This is just another baby step in an effort to move forward with my life. There’s no satisfaction in checking this box, but it needs to be done.
We spend the rest of the drive in silence, but it’s not uncomfortable. Ansel seems happy to leave me with my thoughts, which I appreciate.
He drives the truck around to the back of the church and pulls up so the back of his truck is lined up with the donation bin. The two of us get out, and he pulls the hitch down on his truck.
The plastic is cold as I grip it and drag the bag toward me.
“They’re heavy, I can do it.”
I look over my shoulder at Ansel. “Are you calling me weak? I might remind you that I stuffed all of them.”
He snickers and holds up his hands. “Then by all means, I’ll just sit on the edge and watch you do it. But if my Uncle Roy asks at poker, you sat in the warm cab, and I did it all myself.”
He doesn’t sit, though. He helps me, and I enjoy the humor he uses to get me through this moment.
I lift the bag from the truck and walk it over to the donation bin. I repeat the process two more times, Ansel doing the same amount.
As I put the final bag into the donation bin, tears spring to my eyes. I’m not even sure it’s sadness. I think I’m overwhelmed.
Ansel draws me into a hug, and I wrap my arms around him without reservation, grateful for his comfort.
“You’re doing the right thing for yourself. Even though it’s hard, you are.” Ansel’s deep voice echoes through his chest and jacket where my ear is pressed.
“I don’t even know why I’m upset.” The unshed tears in my eyes fall when I blink, streaking down my face.
“Nothing about this is easy, Collins. Even something as simple sounding as dropping off clothes in a donation bin.”
I nod into his chest, then pull away, meeting his gaze. “You’re right.”
“You need to give yourself some grace. Feel what you need to feel. You’re doing great.” His thumb brushes along my cheek, wiping a tear.
Our gazes lock and hold.
Neither of us look away, and my heart rate picks up speed. My gaze dips to Ansel’s lips and back up to his chestnut eyes.
He clears his throat and steps back, his arms falling from around me. “Hollis will be texting soon if we don’t go get him. He’s insistent about being on time.”
