18. Ian
EIGHTEEN
IAN
It’s been ages since I saw a night sky this clear and bright. I used to have them all the time on mountaintops, grand rewards for my efforts to reach new peaks. Now, I can’t remember the last time I looked up at the stars. But I’ve been sitting on my back porch staring up at the sky for longer than I care to admit. If I was a wishing kind of man, I’d have a few in my back pocket from the meteorites that have zipped across the sky.
It’s gorgeous. And oddly lonely. But maybe that’s just me.
At my side, Dutch whines. I run my hand over his head. He really does have the softest fur.
Should probably do something about that breath, though.
“I know. I feel the same.”
The lights are out next door. Have been all evening. Tess doesn’t usually get home this late. I’m not keeping track to be a creep, but it’s impossible not to notice her habits when she lives ten feet away from me.
I have no right to wonder where she is. She’s not mine to deserve that kind of info. That hasn’t stopped the questions from spinning through my head. Maybe we should exchange numbers. Just in case she ever needs anything.
No. She’s got family. She would call them in an emergency. But…maybe it’d be good to have another option. Just in case.
I’m not worried . Worrying isn’t my style. Anyway, it’s not late enough to panic that something bad has happened to them. It’s only a little after nine. The most realistic scenario is that she’s with her sister or mom. Maybe out with friends.
Possibly on a date.
I catalogue the constellations I know by name, telling myself it’s fine. If she is on a date, good for her, right? She deserves it. Well done, and happy for her.
Yeah, right. I’ve got the urge to throttle anyone who would even think to ask her out, like a knuckle-dragging Neanderthal declaring mine .
I stand and stretch my neck from side to side. “Let’s go inside, Dutch. No sense pining by their door any more tonight.”
We go inside, and I wander the small apartment, absently rubbing the center of my chest. I’ve been doing this all evening—moving from puttering around in the kitchen to trying to read a book to watching the stars. But I can’t get comfortable anywhere I go. Everything’s off.
Dutch must agree. He lies down in front of the back door, his face pressed to the crack like he’s still sniffing for them.
“It’s pathetic to miss them this much already.”
I’m talking to us both.
I go into the living room just in time to watch headlights come up our lane and pull into the space out front. The weight that’s been sitting on my chest all night melts away. They’re home. Dutch gets up and does circles by the front door, tail wagging, hoping to play with his boy.
“Come on.” I sit on the couch and pat the cushion beside me. He looks at the door another minute, but reluctantly joins me, laying his head across my thigh. I scratch behind his ears until his eyes close. “I’m disappointed, too.”
We won’t have any socializing tonight. Tess will surely put August straight to bed. Then she’ll go to bed, too.
I do not need to think about her getting ready for bed somewhere on the other side of this wall. I definitely don’t need to scroll through pajama options, trying to imagine whether she’d wear a nightshirt or one of those cute short sets.
I rake my free hand down my face. Keeping track of her schedule and entertaining a skimpy mental fashion show. I really am a creep.
Grabbing the book I tried and failed to focus on all evening, I settle in to read now that I’m relaxed enough to enjoy it. The front windows are open, and somewhere in the distance, frogs croak back and forth to each other.
After a while, Dutch must decide if he can’t play with August, he’s done for the evening. He slinks off the couch, probably heading for my room. He’s got a plush bed of his own out here, but I’m likely to find him sprawled out on mine with his head on my pillow.
Right when I’m debating if I should call it a night too, a scream punches the air, followed by a crash. I’m on my feet in an instant, my heart hammering as I rush through my front door and onto the porch. Tess’s light is on, her door closed, but the sounds definitely came from that direction. I’m about to hammer on her door when I hear scrambling on the far side of the house.
Blood thunders in my ears as I storm that way, on alert for intruders or pushy dates or I can’t think what else. I round the corner of the house and run straight into something soft.
Tess screams again, but then throws herself into my arms. “Ian!”
I hold her close, her body trembling beneath my touch. Whoever hurt her is going to pay. Looking past her, I try to assess our surroundings, but we’re on the edge of the puddle of light from the porch, and the neighbor’s house is dark. The rest of the side yard is too thick with shadows to make much of anything out.
I cup her face in one hand, the other tight around her. “Are you okay?”
She nods, but even in the dim light I can see how pale she is, how wide her eyes have grown.
“What happened?”
“I think it’s a bear.” She barely whispers the words.
I’m still trying to figure out if I heard her right when a muffled sound comes from behind her, like something’s going through the big plastic garbage cans she keeps back there.
I release her, putting myself between her and the other end of the alley. “Go inside.”
She clutches the back of my shirt with both hands. “Not without you!”
I love that she thinks I might actually try to confront this bear for her. I fully intend to go inside with her, but if I’m going to report a bear sighting to wildlife management, I need to know what we’re dealing with.
I slip my phone from my back pocket—not an easy thing to do with her clinging to my back. Quickly thumbing across the icons, I turn the flashlight on.
Her recycle bin is lying on its side, paper strewn around it. Past that, the garbage can sits against the wooden fence, a trash bag abandoned on the ground next to it. We’re effectively boxed in by the house and the two lengths of fence, creating a tight alley a bear could accidentally corner itself in. But there’s no sign of one.
“Was it right here?” I ask quietly. Best scenario is it climbed the fence on its way to the green space beyond the neighborhood and is already lumbering up the hillside.
“It’s in the can.”
“ In the can?” I take a step closer, but the trash bag Tess left behind moves.
She stifles a shriek, plastering herself to my back. I peer at the bag. A mother wouldn’t abandon her cubs in a spot like this, so what?—
The garbage can lid lifts a few inches, revealing a furry black face, rounded ears, and beady eyes. Definitely a wild animal, but not a bear. The raccoon hisses at us, white teeth gleaming as its paws scramble with the lid. Tess gasps right in my ear.
The trash bag on the ground splits open as a second raccoon rears up, paws out in a defensive stance. This one lets out a shrill scream, and one of Tess’s hands comes around to clutch at my stomach, her other holding tight to my shoulder.
“It’s okay,” I say, trying to soothe all three of them at once.
I lower my phone so the light isn’t shining in the raccoons’ faces, and attempt to back away. Not an easy thing to do with Tess glued to me like a koala, but I’m not putting a stop to that before I have to.
“We’re all going to leave each other alone,” I say gently.
When Tess and I reach the light from the porch, there’s a loud scramble at the dark end of the alley. Pretty sure our intruders left in search of a meal with fewer interruptions.
I exhale the last few minutes of stress from my body. Not what I expected, but a good outcome all in all.
Tess rests her forehead against my upper back, her hands still wrapped in my shirt. “Those were really small bears.”
She starts giggling, and soon, we’re both shaking from laughter. I turn around, lightly placing my hands on her hips while hers come to rest on my shoulders. My heart’s still racing, but it’s got a new source of adrenaline now.
“You were brave to take on two dangerous predators like that,” I tell her solemnly.
She rolls her eyes. “It’s so dang shadowy back there. What else was I supposed to think?”
“Could have been anything.”
She purses her lips at me but can’t maintain the frown. “This is your fault, you know. You’re the one who told me about bears and bobcats and snakes. You got in my head.”
I flex my fingers tighter on her hips. “Good to know I’m in your head.”
Her mouth curves up into a smile. “You were prepared to fight whatever was out here.”
“Seemed like the neighborly thing to do.” That, and the thought of anyone hurting her made me see red.
Now…I just see her. In my arms. Where I’ve been picturing her since we met.
The moment drags out too long, begging me to act on these impulses swirling through my head. But the second my gaze drops to her lips, she slides her hands from my shoulders to my forearms, taking a step back as though just now realizing how close we’ve been standing. I don’t want to let her go, but I’m not brute enough to hold tight if she’s pulling away. When I finally release her, my hands feel strangely empty, like I’ve lost something essential I’m meant to be holding.
“I’m sorry I freaked out over nothing.” She glances to the dark end of the alley, the scene of her freak-out.
“Raccoons aren’t nothing.” She got close enough they could have scratched or bitten her. They could have been rabid. But pointing that out would probably have the opposite effect from the one I want.
She levels me a flat look. “I thought they were a bear.”
“And I’m glad you were wrong.”
She laughs, but then winces. Folding one arm up, she reveals a bloody scrape just below her elbow. “Oof. I forgot about that.”
I step closer to gently take her arm in my hand. “They didn’t do this, did they?”
Do not say anything about potentially rabid raccoons. Do not even think it.
“No. I, uh…kind of fell over the recycle bin when I saw the first one.” She cringes adorably.
“That explains the crash I heard. Are you hurt anywhere else?” It’s all gravel and decorative rock out here.
She pauses a second to assess. “I mean…my butt hurts where I landed on the bin.”
I chuckle, refusing to consider any of the ways I could help her out with that. “I’ll focus on the elbow. Do you have a first aid kit?”
“Of course, but you don’t have to do that.”
As I watch, blood pools and drips toward the point of her elbow. In this light, I can’t tell how badly she’s scraped up, but the smear of dirt is obvious. I want to be sure it gets clean and that nothing under there needs stitches. “I’ll feel better when I know you’re patched up.”
She watches the blood, too, and her face pales again. “Maybe that’s a good idea.” She tilts her head toward the duplex. “Follow me, Dr. Vaughn.”
At this point, I’d follow her anywhere.