Chapter 8 #2
“Don’t be weird.”
“Define that.”
Dean doesn’t dignify that with a response. He heads toward the gate, Rex reluctantly in tow, and I’m left standing at Delilah’s fence like an idiot.
“You can come in,” she says. “If you want. Ruffy might actually let you in the yard now that you’re associated with Rex.”
It’s not exactly a warm invitation. But it’s not a rejection either.
I should say no. I should walk to Dean’s house, get my car, drive back to the rental, and spend the evening not writing a wedding song like a normal person. Every smart instinct I have is saying leave.
I unlatch the gate and step through.
Ruffy’s head snaps toward me. He watches my every move with those intense brown eyes, but he stays where he is.
“He’s still deciding about you,” Delilah says.
“What’s the verdict so far?”
“Jury’s out.” She picks up her coffee mug from the porch railing. “Want some? It’s just regular coffee. Nothing fancy.”
“Sure.”
She disappears inside. Ruffy stays in the yard, torn between following her and keeping tabs on me. Eventually he compromises by lying down on the top step, blocking my path to the door while maintaining a clear sightline.
“Smart,” I tell him. “Strategic.”
His ear twitches.
I look around the yard. It’s beautiful in a chaotic way—flowers everywhere, mismatched pots, a small vegetable garden in the corner. Clearly Eleanor’s work, but Delilah’s maintaining it. Adding to it.
She’s good at that. Planting things in other people’s spaces. The problem is she never stays long enough to see them grow.
That’s not fair. I know that’s not fair. But the thought arrives anyway, sharp and automatic, surfacing the way it does every time I let my guard down. Ten years of songwriting fuel, right there. The bitterness I built three albums on.
She returns with two mugs and hands me one. Our fingers brush, and goosebumps travel up my arm. Neither of us mentions it. I take a sip and stare at the garden instead of at her, because her face makes me forget why I’m supposed to be careful.
“I didn’t know Dean lived one street over,” I say.
“I didn’t either until about three minutes ago.” She sits on the porch steps, and after a moment’s hesitation, I sit on the other end. Ruffy positions himself firmly between us. “Small town.”
“The smallest.”
“Is that why you’re here? For the gym?”
“That was the plan. Before Rex decided to go on an adventure.”
“He’s a handful.”
“He’s obedient.”
“Only when it suits him.” She takes a sip of her coffee. “Ruffy’s never had a friend before. Another dog, I mean. At the shelter, he kept to himself.”
“Rex isn’t exactly friendly either. He tolerates other dogs, but he doesn’t seek them out.”
“Maybe they recognized something in each other.”
“Maybe.”
The marsh behind the yard is doing its evening thing—insects humming, a heron standing motionless in the shallows, the water going pink in the fading light. Ruffy’s breathing evens out between us, though he’s definitely not sleeping. Just waiting.
“I’m working on a song for the ceremony,” I say. “For Dean and Jo. It’s not going well.”
“What’s wrong with it?”
“Everything. Nothing.” I stare at my coffee. “I keep landing on clichés. ‘When you find the one’ and ‘love is patient’ and all the stuff that’s been said a thousand times. It doesn’t feel like them.”
“So what does feel like them?”
I think about Dean. Gruff, steady, reliable. A man who runs into burning buildings but couldn’t admit he had feelings until Jo practically beat them out of him.
“Dean spent years convinced he didn’t need anyone,” I say slowly. “He thought being alone was safer. Then Jo just...crashed into his life. With her projects and her book club and her complete refusal to let him stay closed off.”
Delilah’s quiet for a moment. “That sounds like Jo.”
“She didn’t fix him. That’s not how it works. But she made him want to be different. To let someone in.”
I hear what I’m saying. I hear the parallel, loud and obvious, and I want to take the words back. But they’re out there now, hanging in the air between us like a dare.
“That’s the song,” Delilah says.
“What?”
“What you just said.” She turns to look at me. “That’s the song. Someone who crashes into your life and makes you want to be brave enough to let them in.”
I stare at her.
She’s right. That’s exactly what I’ve been trying to say. Not love at first sight. Not fate or destiny or any of that. Just two people deciding to be vulnerable with each other. To stay when everything in them says run.
She would know about that. The running part.
The thought is mean and I’m ashamed of it the second it forms. But it’s there, lodged in the space between what I feel and what I’ll say, and I can’t pretend it isn’t.
“That’s...” I shake my head. “Yeah. That’s it.”
“You’re welcome.”
“I didn’t say thank you.”
“You were thinking it.”
I was. I am. She just handed me the key to a song about two people being brave enough to stay, and she’s the one who never could. The irony is so thick I could choke on it.
Ruffy shifts, and for a moment I tense. Instead, he stretches out, his back paw barely touching my shoe.
It’s not affection. It’s grudging tolerance at best.
But it’s something.
“He’s warming up to you,” Delilah says, eyebrows raised.
“You don’t have to sound so stunned.”
“I am. He stares down the mailman every single day.”
“Maybe he knows I’m not a threat.”
“Maybe.” She looks at me, and something in her expression shifts. “Or maybe he’s starting to trust my judgment.”
The words hang in the air.
I should respond to that. Acknowledge what she just admitted—that she’s opening a door she’s kept locked for a long time, and she’s opening it for me, which means—
Instead, my phone buzzes.
Dean: Got Rex home. Jo’s making dinner if you want to come. Also your car is still at my place.
Right. My car.
“I should go,” I say, standing. “My car’s at Dean’s.”
“Right. Of course.”
“But maybe...” I hesitate. Every alarm in my head is going off. Don’t do this. Don’t open a door she’s going to walk out of. “Maybe Rex could come visit Ruffy sometime. Officially. Instead of breaking and entering.”
Delilah’s mouth curves. Not quite a smile, but close. “I think Ruffy would like that.”
“Cool.”
“Cool.”
We’re both terrible at this.
Ruffy follows me to the gate, not guarding now but...escorting. Like he’s making sure I leave properly.
“Bye, Ruffy,” I say.
He huffs.
“I’ll take that as progress.”
Delilah’s still on the porch when I close the gate behind me. She lifts her coffee mug in a small wave.
I wave back.
Then I walk to Dean’s house with the wedding song finally taking shape in my head.
She crashed into my life like chaos in a storm, Made me want to open doors I’d sworn I’d keep closed...
It’s not finished. It’s probably not even good. And I’m trying not to think about the fact that I just described Dean and Jo’s love story using words that fit mine and Delilah’s just as well.
But for the first time, it’s honest.
And that’s a start.
Even if that’s the most dangerous thing I could be right now.