Landon turned, leaving the key in the door.

He locked eyes with Alex. He set his duffel bag down.

He should have known this would happen. Had he really thought that after so much had passed between them, he could just up and leave without consequences? Still, a part of him had hoped to depart before she got home. Now the note he had left for her on her counter would be rendered completely obsolete.

Oh, well. Time to face the music.

Time to face the angel.

She was already coming up the steps before he could make his feet move to descend them to meet her. She looked slightly unsteady on her feet, and he wondered if she had been drinking. Her eyes, by contrast, were clear.

"Where are you going?" she asked him. Her gaze alighted on his duffel bag, and he knew there would be no lying to her. What's more, he found he didn't want to.

"Honestly, I was planning on sneaking out." He grimaced a little, hoping to lighten the tone of his admission.

Alex stared at him, stricken. “So, that’s it, then?”

Landon scratched the back of his head. If he didn’t find a way to occupy his hands, he was afraid he would reach for her. And he needed to get this thing between them right. “Look, I like you, Alex. A lot. And if you want me to stay here, then I will. But I don’t think you really want me to."

There. It was all out in the open now. That had been easy enough. Maybe.

Landon gazed down at her, his eyes scanning her face for any indication of what her response would be. This thing they had together, this connection, was unlike anything he had ever experienced before. He knew it couldn’t only be one-sided. He was half-confident that she would tell him he had it wrong, that she would ask him to stay. He didn’t bother to turn to retrieve the key from the lock. Not yet.

He watched, and he waited.

A million and one emotions flickered across Alex’s face. She must have definitely been drinking earlier—the usual tight control she kept of herself seemed looser, somehow.

He took a hesitant step closer. All he needed was an invitation to come back inside, and they could work it out—or at least work toward some sort of—

“Yeah, maybe that’s for the best." Alex‘s eyes flickered away from him, toward the door—or toward some spot that only she could see, an invisible wall beginning to erect itself between them. “You’re a . . . you’re a good man, Landon. A great man. It’s ridiculous how long it took me to realize that you were. You’re a hero, for God's sake, but—I have so much baggage." She swallowed thickly. "So much that I wish I could just leave behind." She gestured toward his duffel bag. If it was going to serve as a metaphor, Landon wanted to kick it. “But I see now, there’s so much I can’t just put down. And it’s hurting you. And that's the last thing I would ever want."

Landon forced a laugh. When it didn’t sound as convincing as he’d hoped it would, he shook his head as a further demonstration that he was refuting her apology. “I’m a big boy, Alex. Like I’ve said before, I get that you need space. And time—you need time to heal. This was just bad timing. Right?"

But he was too invested in her response just then, too ready to hang on to her answer either way, and he knew it. So he didn’t leave her room to answer. When she opened her mouth, he stepped all the way to her, arms spread, and enveloped her in a hug. He tried to play it off as a friendly parting gesture and nothing more, conscious all the while of his sudden, roaring fear that this might be the last time he’d ever hold her again.

Alex’s arms flew around his neck.

Landon paused, nearly overwhelmed in the moment by the ferocity of her grip. He clutched her close, equally desperate. Surely, she would ask him to come inside with her now.

She pulled away, and he felt her absence like a yawning chasm between them, but it was only to grasp either side of his face and yank him back in for a kiss. He could taste the sweet nectar of red wine on her lips. His heart twisted, and he ached to join her back inside the house and polish off a bottle together.

When he started to kiss her back, she pulled out of the embrace. A hand on his chest prevented him from following her.

“I’m sorry," she whispered. "I shouldn't have done that." Her eyes were on that invisible obstacle looming between them again. For a moment, Landon wondered if he could raise his fists and shatter the wall—finally sweep her into his arms without a barrier between them, and never let her go. “You better get going," she concluded.

“Guess I’d better."

He turned mechanically, barely conscious of what he was doing, and picked up his duffel bag. He wanted to say something more but decided that the safest course in the moment was to brush past her on his way down the steps. “Key's in the lock," he mentioned unnecessarily. “Thanks for letting me stay. I’m sorry if it caused you any inconvenience."

“Landon . . ."

But she didn’t complete the sentence, and he didn’t expect her to. There was nothing more to say. This was as cordial as things got, and he was determined to leave with it all relatively unbroken. Alex had already had enough heartache in her life to last her for her remaining days. It was the right time to walk away.

Wasn’t it?

Stay, a voice in the back of his mind whispered. Stay and fight.

There’s nothing to fight against, he thought. Alex isn’t my enemy. She knows what she wants.

It isn’t Alex you’re fighting against. It’s Alex you’re fighting for.

But no matter how insistent the whisper, he kept to his course. He walked back into town, one resolute step leading the other. He heard a twig snap, off to his left, as something followed him beyond the copse of trees he was passing. He kept walking but turned his head to look with incurious eyes.

A pair of startling silver eyes shone back at him, reflected in the streetlight.

It was the dog, the same stray he had rescued from the fire, what felt like a lifetime ago. It wasn’t limping anymore, but its tail hung between its back legs as it skulked along. The dog paused when he paused, and he saw the tail give a feeble wag when the bedraggled creature noticed his gaze.

“It’s okay, boy." Landon dropped to one knee and set his duffel bag aside. He tried to coax the dog out of the cover of the trees, but it wouldn’t come to him.

He inched slowly nearer. The weighted moment hung between them, and just when he thought his odds of approaching were good, the dog turned and bolted away, swallowed by darkness.

He knelt in the dirt for a long moment after that by himself. Then, with a heavy sigh, he heaved himself back to his feet. Maybe he had only been fooling himself all these years.

Maybe he was a cat person after all.