Chapter 2

Graham

I hefted my backpack—the tried, tested, and true, beige raggedy backpack that I had used for all my travels—over my shoulder and hightailed it toward the airport exit. I had enjoyed my trip, I always did, but something about coming home just hit right these days. Perhaps it had something to do with knowing I had a dozen cookies waiting for me at Whisk Me Away.

And Sam.

I grinned to myself, probably looking a bit like a goofus since I was walking alone through the busy airport, smiling like a man without a care in the world.

I couldn't wait to tell Sam about this adventure. He got the stories that didn't make it onto the blog, which reminded me that today his blog went live, and since it was posted during my flight, I hadn't had a chance to read it. I reached for my phone only to realize I wasn't going to get a chance to read it before my rideshare arrived. Damn. I liked to be the first person to comment, but I knew now that it would be too late.

He and I had a competition between us of who could comment on each other's blog first. His posted on Tuesdays, mine generally on Wednesdays, though I had posted a short blog yesterday. Tomorrow I'd post a longer one. And like always, he would be one of the first to comment. I smiled and whistled as I walked toward my rideshare. I had long since given up having a vehicle of my own. There was no use, being that I was never home.

I hadn't stayed in one place for longer than a week in… years? Except for last year when I'd been home for the holidays and had been laid flat by the flu. I "lived" in my business partner's basement, and Sam had come over with fresh chicken soup and homemade rolls every day until I was better.

"You seem in a good mood. Good travels?" my driver, Nash, asked.

I had used him before. It was a small town, after all. Pretty sure he only stayed in business because he drove me to the airport and back quite a bit.

"No different than any other trip," I said. As much as I loved the cultures and countries that I visited, I had pretty much been everywhere that I wanted to be. "I'm happy to be home."

"Awesome. I presume I'm taking you to Whisk Me Away?"

"Of course," I said. "I have to pick up my cookies." And see Sam. I was more excited to see him than I was the cookies. I wanted to tell him about the bakery I'd visited in San Antonio and the themed days they had. Their baked goods were nowhere near as good as his, but he was the best. I also needed to give him the whisk I had found at one of the local shops. I always came home with a gift for Sam—always the same thing, a whisk from wherever I traveled. It was silly, but it was our tradition.

"Pretty sure you'll have to fight the crowd," Nash said.

"What do you mean?"

He laughed. "You'll see."

The ride didn't take long since the airport wasn't far from the city center where Whisk Me Away was located. Just as my driver said, there was a crowd outside. It was as if the whole town was there. I recognized quite a few individuals, like my next-door neighbor, two of the deputies, and the owner of the local diner.

"You tell Sam he's a braver man than I. I wouldn't be putting my feelings out there for the world to see. Good for him," Nash said.

"What?"

Nash chuckled. "Just wait. You must not have read his blog today."

"Not yet." But I was going to now. What had he posted that had everyone gathered at his business? Had he finally revealed Gram's cookie recipe? No. He swore he'd never give that away. It was near and dear to his heart. He didn't even sell the cookies in the bakery.

I got out of the car and stood in awe of the crowd. A few people waved and pointed when they saw me, whispering to one another. What the hell did that mean? I pulled out my phone and went straight to Sam's blog. I was so dang proud of him for having a successful food blog while also running a successful business. Years ago, when he'd first started the thing, I knew he had been anxious about it. "No one's going to read it," he'd told me. "Well, then they'll just go there for the recipes," I had reminded him. "And those are good too. So keep them coming."

Not that I ever baked. But I did love his recipes, which was why Whisk Me Away was my first stop on every trip home. I needed my cookies and to see Sam.

His success as a blogger inspired me to do the same for my travels. It had done wonders for my travel agency business, and I had a good number of sponsors that helped to fund my travels. I owed my success to Sam in a lot of ways.

His blog was bookmarked on my home screen, so I went directly to it.

The most recent blog loaded up slowly. I got an error saying that the site was experiencing a heavy volume of traffic, whatever that meant. Finally, it loaded, and I began reading an excerpt from the blog. I straightened, sucked in a breath, and looked around.

"Graham! Did you just get here?" Jeremy, the local florist asked. "Better go inside and see that man of yours."

Right. The words in Sam's blog were swirling around in my head. Had I really read that right? Had Sam really posted a blog about me? Was that truly how he felt?

I marched my way inside, and even without announcing who I was and politely asking people to get out of the way, the crowd seemed to part for me. Sam's eyes met mine, and I marched up to the counter, his eyes wide when he saw me, and he looked around.

Was it a mistake? A prank? Some kind of ploy to get more clicks?

No, that last one wasn't how Sam was. He enjoyed the success of his blog, but he didn't manipulate people to get more followers. He was genuine, real. That was why people liked him.

"Did you come here to get your cookies, Graham?" someone asked.

A few people around me snickered.

"Did you write a blog post professing your love to me?" I blurted out.

He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

Instead, he turned around and ran out the back door, leaving me standing there, confused. So, so confused, with a crowd of people just staring at me.

"All right, everyone, if you're not here to order something then it's time to leave. However, you absolutely should order something to support our good friend Sam." His business partner Andrew shot everyone a glare, and they began queuing up. "Graham, I've got your cookies back here. Why don't you come sit down?"

I hoped that perhaps Sam was still back there, but I had a feeling that he was not. No, that panicked look meant he was hightailing it home. I didn't blame him. How long had this crowd been here?

Andrew took me to the back room, and we sat in the office. I'd been there a time or two before, but usually with Sam.

"Your cookies." He held out the box to me. It was duct-taped and had a note on it that said: "Graham's cookies, do not touch." Graham's with my name spelt out, not Gram's cookies like his grandma's.

"What's going on?" I said.

Andrew shrugged. "I don't know. I just got here. I read the blog this morning. And so did a lot of other people. I got here as soon as I could, but there was already a crowd."

"Did he post that by mistake? Or…"

"I didn't get a chance to ask, and I don't know if you should either. What are you going to do about this?"

"About what?" I said

Andrew's brow lifted.

"Right. Sam's feelings. If they're real." I wished I could read the blog all the way through again. I only had a chance to skim it.

Andrew shot me a glare.

"Listen, I just read the blog three minutes ago. I'm still reeling. I don't know what's happening." That was the understatement of the century.

Sam, my Sam, had feelings for me.

It was too crazy to even think about. He was my business partner's brother. My best friend's brother. I remembered helping him to learn to ride a bike without training wheels and teaching him how to parallel park so he didn't fail his driver's test. I had been there when he went to his prom.

"I can respect that. I was a bit shocked when I read it also. Not about his feelings, those were obvious, but that it was posted out there for the world. I don't know why he did that or if it was even on purpose. Whatever you do, don't fucking hurt him."

"I would never," I said, the thought turning my stomach. Sam was not just my business partner and best friend's brother. He was Sam. He was precious. He was one of my closest friends. The person I wanted to call every night to tell him about my day. The person I wanted to share my travels with. The first person I ever thought of that I wanted to travel with anywhere.

"Oh!" Andrew's lips stretched into a smile. "So these are not unrequited feelings. That's good. I wondered, but I never knew for sure."

Now my mind was really reeling. How did I feel about Sam? "I don't know what I feel yet. I don't feel nothing, I can tell you that."

He shrugged. "We can work with that. Maybe give Sam a moment to cool off and then call or visit him. I'll finish out the shift today, and I'll touch base with him also. I don't think he posted that blog on purpose. So don't be surprised if he takes it down. So if you want a copy of it, get one now."

"Do you have a copy?"

"Fresh off the printer." Andrew grabbed it and handed it to me. "That one's yours. I saved a copy."

"Thanks."

Andrew left me alone, likely knowing I could find my way out. I couldn't wait any longer, I began reading…