He nods and sets the bag on the floor just inside the doorway.

Taking a deep breath, I gaze up into his bluest of all blue eyes. “Can you take care of him for just a little while longer? I’m moving with my brother in a few months. If he says it’s okay, can I come back and get him then?”

The words come out of me without conscious thought, and I wonder if that’s how life decisions are usually made. Just like that. All of a sudden, it just felt like starting over, somewhere new, with my brother and Anna would be best, and my choice was made.

He glances down at Poppy then back to me and winks at me. The small gesture is unexpectedly affectionate and, in that fleeting moment, I see the ghost of who I am sure was young Tyler Grace. Playful. Incredibly handsome. Confident. Free.

A euphoric dizziness spreads through me, my knees weaken, and my empty stomach ripples with an odd, jittering sensation that has nothing to do with hunger for food. Wow. So being near the man of your dreams feels like a panic attack…only you never want it to end.

“Is that a yes?” I ask softly, still caught up in the dazed feeling.

He nods again then holds up his hand, the one with the brightly colored tattoos all over it, with one finger pointed up. Confused, I wait as he disappears inside. He comes back, a moment later, and hands me a small piece of ripped cream-colored paper.

This is his home as long as needed, says the note in blocky writing similar to what I’ve seen in comic books.

I look up to meet his eyes, hoping I don’t faint right here on his doorstep from this overload of strange feelings. “Thank you.”

He motions for me to turn the note over.

I remember you.

Written or typed words on paper have such an intense impact on me. Maybe because I lost myself in books for so long. Or maybe because we can keep them, read them again and again, and see the words whenever we need them. They can become new again, or be an old, familiar, faded memory. While I long to hear Tyler’s voice, this little three-word written note is something I’ll cherish forever and probably read a thousand times.

This time, I’m the one who nods, and an unspoken acceptance of sorts passes between us as his gaze stays on mine. He doesn’t breathe for a few moments, and then slowly lets out a steady breath.

I realize he expects me to look away with discomfort, and when I don’t—when I stare right back with what I can only guess is a mirror of his own expression of hesitance and pleading—a flicker of relief flashes in his eyes. His tongue slowly moves across his bottom lip, and I wonder if he’s going to say something, but he remains quiet. His eyes, however, continue to burn into mine with a myriad of emotions that I can feel but am unable to begin to describe.

Once again, my insides flip, and it reminds me of the excitement I felt the first time I had ice cream again. I wanted to gobble it all at once but forced myself to eat it slowly, savoring its deliciousness.

That’s how Tyler makes me feel.

“I better go,” I say, wrenching my eyes from his. “My friend is waiting at the road, and it’s getting dark. She has a date to get to…”

He looks off behind me and up at the darkening sky, then he hands Poppy’s leash back to me as he steps outside, closing his front door behind him. I look at him questioningly, and he points to the trail leading back to the road and nods his head.

Wordlessly, he walks me back to the end of the dirt road as the sun begins to set, the sky turning a dazzling reddish orange behind us. I turn several times to see the sky change color, and he watches me with amused interest.

He’s not rude, I decide. Plagued with a bad attitude? Yes. Guarded? Definitely. But enough of a gentleman to walk me back to the car so I don’t have to walk alone. On television, that’s what the nice guys do when they like a girl.

“Thank you, Tyler,” I say, handing the leash back to him after kneeling down to give Poppy a kiss and a pet goodbye. I hope Tyler doesn’t notice my hand shaking. “For saving me, and for taking care of Poppy for me. I know ‘thank you’ isn’t enough…”

He stares down at his feet for a few seconds, and it almost seems like he’s struggling, maybe wanting to say something, but when he raises his head, he just nods and then heads back up the trail. I remain rooted where I’m standing and watch them walk away. Right before they disappear from view, Poppy turns to see if I’m still there and, of course, I am.

For reasons I can’t understand, I long to go with them, back to the little house in the woods.

“It’s about time,” Feather says when I get into her car, pulling me back into reality. “I was starting to get really worried.”

“I’m sorry, I went as fast as I could.”

“So, what did he say?”

“Nothing. He doesn’t talk.”

“Still? Is that like a permanent problem? Did you see his face? What the hell happened to him?” She puts the car in drive and burns rubber back onto the road.

I don’t answer her because all I see when I look at him are eyes the color of a sky I ached to see but was kept hidden from me for ten years.

10

Tyler

If not for her misty blue-gray eyes, I never would have recognized the beautiful woman in front of me as the same girl I pulled out of a dirt hole. It seems like a lifetime ago.

Back then, I thought she was much younger. I guess not being able to eat or get outside in the sun and air robs a person of being able to grow properly. She’s still thin and pale, but her genes obviously refused to be denied, and now her natural beauty has surpassed dirt and malnourishment. Unfortunately for her, not much can erase tragedy and heartache from forever lingering in her eyes.

I’m reminded of that little fact myself every morning when I look in the mirror.

She’s still holding the note I gave her when I leave her standing by the side of the road. As I walk away, I want to turn back to see if she’s still there watching me, but I don’t let myself. Her dog looks back though, and I can tell she’s still there just by the amount of time it takes him to face forward again. The endless, unconditional love and loyalty of a dog are serious goals.

Call me a bastard, but I’m glad she brought him back because I would’ve missed this little white fucker. Sure, I still have the fuzzy red lunatic to keep me company, but the dog on the end of this new blue leash weaseled his way into my heart a year ago. We’re kindred spirits, me and him.

Both debarked.

Both scarred.

Both lost.

Both worried about her.

Both still thinking about her.

I climb up into the loft, to lie down, as soon as I get back home, but I don’t fall asleep as fast as I normally do. It’s been an unusual couple of days, and they keep playing over in my head. I never get visitors or people traipsing into my yard unless it’s a lost hiker.

If I had known it was her, I wouldn’t have tried to scare her with the mask. The thing is, though, she didn’t run back toward the road screaming her head off like most people do when I play let’s-scare-people-out-of-my-domain. She took control of the situation and calmly got herself away from me. She handled it like she was well trained in dealing with someone unhinged.

It made me admire her strength even more. Later, I rode into town after dark, parked down the street from where she lives, and walked to her apartment, my dark clothes blending into the shadows. I found out a while ago that she still lives in this place with the ironic name. I’ve checked up on her whereabouts a few times since I found her that day last year although, if you asked me why, I wouldn’t have a good answer. I just needed to know. I stood outside the facility she lives in and watched her window like the creeper I am. I needed to see her again, even from afar, just to make sure she hadn’t been a figment of my imagination. And she wasn’t. I’m pretty sure she saw me standing there as she peered down from her window, and I wondered if she realized it was me or if she had completely forgotten about me.

I wanted her to know it was me.

I wanted her to know I was watching her.

I wanted a small shiver of apprehension to creep up her spine.

I wanted to be responsible for igniting a feeling in a soul just as lonely and broken as my own.

On my ride back home under the moonlight, I’d been determined to put her out of my head, because nothing good can come of me obsessing over a woman. But twice today she showed up, surprising me both times with her hypnotic chatter despite my ignoring her.

Why the hell she’d be walking through the woods completely alone, after what happened to her in those same woods, I don’t know. It’s totally fucked up. Does she have no fear? Harboring a death wish maybe?

I can relate to that.

I felt bad toward the end, and that’s why I wrote her the note. Her puffy eyes and tear-stained cheeks and the heaviness of the defeat in her voice got to me bad. It bothered me that she wasn’t living at home with her family, and she couldn’t keep her own damn dog.

Years ago, before my accidents, I would be at my mom’s animal shelter when the lost dogs were reunited with their families. The owners were always so happy to get them back. They would hold onto the dog extra tight and cry with relief. Second chances make people more grateful and make them pour more love and care into what they thought they’d lost forever.