23. Liam #2
I glanced down the trail. It was quite a distance between us and the canal path. Walking back would take time, and the people searching for her were already moving farther down the trails.
The faster we returned, the faster Zoey could stop imagining the worst.
I crouched slightly so we were closer to the same height.
“Bobbi,” I said carefully, “I can get us back faster if I shift.”
She tilted her head, then she nodded with immediate interest. “That seems efficient.”
“It is,” I agreed. “But I want to make sure you’re comfortable with that.”
She studied my face seriously. “You mean riding on your back?”
“Yes.”
“That is acceptable.”
I couldn’t stop the chuckle that left me. “Good. There are a few rules first,” I said. “You’ll need to hold onto my fur near my shoulders. Not my neck.”
She nodded again. “That would interfere with movement.”
“Exactly. If you need me to slow down,” I said, “tap my shoulder twice.”
“And if I need you to stop?”
“Three taps.”
“That is logical.” Her expression remained thoughtful. “What if I fall?”
“You won’t,” I said calmly. “But if you start to slide, grab tighter and I will stop.”
She nodded again. “Understood.”
I stood and stepped back a few feet, so she had room.
The shift moved through me quickly this time. Bones rearranged. Muscles expanded. The forest sharpened again as the wolf took control.
Bobbi watched the transformation with quiet fascination. “Impressive.”
Then she approached and placed one small hand into the fur along my shoulder.
“May I climb?”
I lowered slightly.
She swung one leg carefully over my back and settled into place with surprising balance. Her small hands gathered in my fur exactly where I had instructed.
“Secure,” she said.
I started forward slowly to test her balance.
Her grip tightened slightly.
“Ready.”
We ran.
I followed the trail back toward the canal path, the forest passing quickly around us. Bobbi leaned forward slightly with the motion, adjusting naturally to the rhythm of my stride, her grip firm on me.
The scent of the canal grew stronger as we moved closer to the search area, and voices carried faintly through the trees ahead.
People were still calling her name.
We broke through the last line of brush, and the clearing opened ahead.
Zoey stood near the path entrance with several others. Her head snapped toward the trees the moment we appeared.
For a second, she didn’t move.
Then she saw Bobbi.
“Bobbi!”
The sound broke out of her with startling force.
Bobbi slid off my back before I had fully stopped running.
“I’m here,” she announced.
Zoey crossed the distance between them in seconds and dropped to her knees in the dirt. She wrapped her arms around Bobbi so tightly that the girl lifted slightly off the ground.
“Oh my god,” Zoey said, her voice shaking. “You scared the absolute hell out of me.”
Bobbi patted her shoulder. “I encountered dogs.”
“Wow, you’ll have to tell me about that,” Zoey said roughly.
Bobbi’s mother came running over, and the reunion became even louder.
Crying. Hands reaching for Bobbi from every direction.
While that unfolded, I shifted back to my human form.
Zoey watched Bobbi and her mother, then stood, her face wet with tears. She looked over at me, and the expression on her face changed immediately.
Gratitude.
Relief.
Something deeper underneath both.
She walked toward me slowly. “Thank you,” she said. “You found her.”
“Yes.”
For several seconds, she said nothing. Her gaze moved over my face carefully, as though confirming that I was real and standing in front of her, and not another piece of information arriving through a phone call.
The tension she had been holding was still in her posture. Her shoulders remained tight. Her hands opened and closed at her sides.
She stepped forward suddenly and hugged me.
The impact of it was sudden and firm enough that I rocked back half a step before regaining my balance. She pressed herself fully against my chest, gripping the back of my shirt as though she had no intention of letting go any time soon.
I simply stood there, then after a beat, my arms came up around her.
A shaky breath left her. Her shoulders moved with the exhale. The sound that followed was quiet, but unmistakable.
She was crying.
The realization tightened something in my chest immediately.
My hand moved instinctively to the back of her head. I slid my fingers gently into her hair and held her there, one arm wrapped firmly around her shoulders.
“It’s okay,” I murmured.
Her grip tightened slightly. “I know,” she said, but the words were muffled against my shirt. Another small breath followed. This one shook more than the last.
I kept my hand steady in her hair, smoothing it slowly away from her face. The movement seemed to ground her a little. Her shoulders lowered gradually as the adrenaline drained out of her.
“You found her,” she murmured. “I was trying very hard not to imagine worst-case scenarios.”
“I know.”
The relief in her posture was obvious now. The rigid control she had held through the search was finally giving way to exhaustion and gratitude in equal measure.
“She’s safe,” I said. “Everything is okay.”
Zoey stayed where she was. For once, she didn’t rush to step away. She remained pressed against my chest, her breathing slowly settling into an easier rhythm.
I stroked her hair and leaned down just enough to press a soft kiss on the top of her head.
The contact was simple, meant to comfort.
She let out one last quiet breath that sounded almost like a laugh. “Today has been a lot,” she said.
“I’m sure.”
She finally pulled back just enough to look up at me.
Her eyes were still damp, but the tension in them had eased. Relief had replaced the fear.
“Will you walk back with me?” she asked.
Her voice carried a quiet vulnerability now that had not been there earlier.
The edge around her had softened in the aftermath of the search and the relief of finding Bobbi.
The tears hadn’t completely dried on her face yet, and there was something about the way she looked at me that made the request feel heavier than the words themselves.
“To my apartment.”
Two days ago, she had asked me not to contact her.
Two days ago, I had walked away from her building convinced that whatever fragile connection had been growing between us, might be permanently damaged.
And now she was asking me to come back with her.
Not out of obligation or because she needed help with something practical, but because she wanted me there.
That alone was enough to leave me speechless.
But there was something else as well.
Zoey didn’t seem like the kind of person to let anyone see her when she was shaken. The version of her standing in front of me now was different.
The fear had passed, but her hands were still shaking slightly, and her shoulders hadn’t quite returned to their usual guarded posture.
And for some reason, she had turned to me.
The realization moved quietly through my chest.
I had spent most of my life being careful about the way I interacted with people. Careful about how much space I took up in their lives. Careful not to become the problem that needed managing.
But standing here with Zoey leaning closer to me than she had earlier, still recovering from the shock of the evening, the instinct that rose inside me was not restraint.
It was protective.
Grounded.
The same instinct that had pushed me through the woods when she called.
The same instinct that had made it impossible to ignore the fear in her voice.
Being the person she leaned on now felt right.
“Of course,” I said.
Zoey held my gaze for another second before glancing back toward Bobbi.
The girl was now firmly contained in her mother’s arms while explaining the tactical reasoning behind climbing trees when confronted with hostile animals. Several neighbors hovered nearby, offering reassurances and water bottles.
“Let’s go home,” Zoey said.
I fell into step beside her.
As soon as Zoey opened her door, familiar chaos greeted us.
Markie spotted me before either of us had fully stepped through the doorway.
The bird launched off the back of the kitchen chair, and flapped halfway across the room, with the enthusiasm of a creature that had been waiting for this moment for days.
“BAD DOG!” His wings beat loudly once before he landed on the counter. “BAD DOG!”
Zoey closed the door behind us and leaned back against it, rubbing her hand over her face. “Yes,” she said. “We’ve established that.”
Markie turned his head toward me. “HELLO.”
“Hello,” I said carefully.
He leaned forward. “BAD DOG.”
I stepped farther into the room. “You called the police on me.”
Markie puffed slightly. “INTRUDER.”
Zoey snorted quietly and walked toward the kitchen. “You did break into my apartment.”
“I didn’t break in,” I said.
“You used a hidden key and triggered a bird.”
Markie lifted one foot. “SECURITY.”
I stared at him. “You are a narc.”
Markie nodded and clicked. “GOOD JOB.”
Zoey opened a cabinet and pulled down two glasses. “I need wine.”
“That seems reasonable.”
She looked over her shoulder at me. “You want some?”
“Yes.”
She filled both glasses generously and carried them into the living room. I followed her, trying not to overanalyze the situation unfolding around me.
The last time I had been here, the police had been involved.
Now Zoey was pouring wine.
It felt like a significant shift.
She handed me a glass and dropped onto the couch beside me. Not across the room. Not in the armchair. Directly beside me with her knee angled slightly toward mine.
Markie hopped down from the counter and strutted across the floor toward us.
“HEEL.”
“You are a bird,” I told him.
“HEEL.”
Zoey took a long drink of wine and exhaled slowly. “Today has been… intense.”
“I can believe it.”
She leaned back against the couch and studied the ceiling, then turned to me. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For being someone I felt safe calling.”
The sentence landed heavily in my chest.
We had only known each other briefly, but I already knew Zoey rarely handed out that kind of trust.
“And,” she continued, “for actually showing up.”
“I would never dream of not helping you.”
The answer came easily because it was true.
Her mouth twitched slightly at the seriousness of my tone. “I know.” She took another drink, then set the glass down on the table in front of us. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking the last two days.”
My shoulders tensed. That could go in several directions.
“Therapy,” she added.
“That makes sense.”
“It does.” Zoey tucked one leg underneath herself and turned toward me more fully. “I’m working through some things. A lot of old habits. Patterns. The way I respond to people.”
I waited.
She met my gaze steadily. “I want to be open to having real relationships in my life.”
The statement was simple, but the meaning underneath it was anything but.
“And,” she added, “I would like to go out to dinner. With you.”
The sentence took a moment to fully register.
“Dinner.”
“Yes.”
Her expression held a mix of determination and vulnerability that felt very Zoey.
“I’m not promising perfection,” she continued. “I’m actively learning how to do this in a healthier way. But I really want to try.”
My chest tightened again. “That sounds like a good plan.”
“But,” she added carefully, “I think you might need to do some work too.”
That caught my attention. “What kind of work?”
Zoey shrugged one shoulder. “I don’t want to armchair diagnose you because I’m not qualified.”
“Fair.”
“But some of the things you’ve said about how your brain works, some habits I’ve observed, reminded me of a teacher I had once. She had OCD.”
The room went quiet. I sat there for a moment, turning the statement over in my mind. Pete’s voice drifted through my memory. You’ve always had these tendencies.
The card Connor had slid across the bar. Therapy group for shifters.
Zoey watched me carefully. “You don’t have to agree with me. But if we’re going to try to build something healthy together, I want both of us working on our stuff.”
I nodded slowly. “That seems reasonable.”
“Does it?”
“Yes.” I rested my forearms on my knees and stared into my wineglass. “I’ve been thinking about that already.”
Her head tilted slightly.
“I have a card for a therapy group.”
Zoey blinked. “That was faster than I expected.”
“A stranger at the bar gave it to me.”
“That sentence contains several concerning details.”
I shrugged. “He was a shifter.”
“Okay, that makes it a bit better.”
“I was planning to look into it.”
She studied my face again. “You would actually do that?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
I looked up. “Because if I’m going to be part of your life, I want to be the best version of myself.”
Zoey went very still, then suddenly she leaned forward, pressing her lips against mine. She slid her hand into mine, the other resting against my chest. I pulled her closer, wrapping an arm around her waist.
Zoey broke the kiss. “Okay,” she said.
“Okay.”
She picked up her wine again and took a long drink. “Have you ever had Korean barbecue?”
I blinked. “No.”
She smiled. “Good. We’re fixing that Saturday night.”