Chapter 5 David #2
“I can’t thank you enough for training him, Milly,” David said, meaning every word. “It makes a huge difference.”
Chaos had been a handful when David first got him. Smart, eager, but completely untrained. Milly had offered to work with him, and the transformation had been remarkable. The dog still had his moments of puppyish chaos, but he was learning fast.
“We like to know we have at least one highly trained dog between us out here,” Dan said, taking a sip of his beer. “After all, we do live in the back of beyond on the outskirts of town.”
“I think his sister was adopted by the Christmas family that owns the Christmas Inn,” David said, watching as Chaos finally dropped to all fours and started sniffing around the porch. “The detective who took her gave her to Jack Christmas.”
“Oh no,” Milly said, her brow furrowing. “I would’ve taken her.”
“We’ll get you another one,” Dan promised, leaning over to kiss her hair.
They stood there for a while, drinking their beers and watching the late afternoon light filter through the trees. This was what David liked about Dan and Milly. They didn’t need to fill every silence with words. They just existed together, comfortable and easy.
“Hey,” Dan said after a while. “I’ve been contracted to do some work on Anastasia Island over the next two weeks. You interested in helping with the plumbing?”
David’s mind went immediately to Eve, to the way she’d said she was staying at the Christmas Inn.
He shook it off. “Yes, of course. My calendar is clear.” He glanced at Milly. “As far as I know.”
“Yup,” Milly nodded. She handled both their business schedules, keeping track of jobs and invoices with the kind of precision that suggested she’d done far more complicated work in another life.
“You’re free except if Margaret’s boutique floods again.
” She sighed. “She really needs to get those pipes updated.”
“She said she will in the new year,” David told her.
They chatted for a few more minutes about the Anastasia Island job, about the work Dan had lined up, about whether the weather would hold through New Year’s.
Finally, Milly stood and stretched. “I made stew for dinner if you want some.”
David’s stomach rumbled at the thought. “I won’t turn that down.”
“We’ll bring it around later,” Milly said, collecting the empty beer bottles.
David watched them head back to their cabin, Chaos trotting after them like he couldn’t decide which human to shadow.
He grabbed his toolbox and headed inside.
The cabin was cool and quiet, the way he liked it.
Simple furniture. Clean lines. Nothing unnecessary.
He set the toolbox in the mudroom and headed straight for the shower, stripping off his work clothes and stepping under the hot water.
David heard Chaos trotting inside and then the scrunch of his bed as the dog lay down.
David relaxed into the spray, his mind filled with images of Eve Reynolds. The surprise in her eyes. The flush on her cheeks. The way her hand had felt in his, small and warm and real.
It had been so long since he’d felt that pull toward someone. That awareness. The excitement that zings through you.
He shut off the water and dried off, pulling on clean jeans and a flannel shirt before heading to his bedroom.
His eyes fell on the picture sitting on his dresser.
A beautiful woman smiled at the camera, her dark hair pulled back, her eyes bright with happiness. Beside her stood a small girl, serious-faced and curious, chin lifted in that way children have when they’re trying to look brave.
David’s heart ached.
He picked up the frame and ran his thumb over the glass, over the faces he’d memorized a thousand times over.
His wife. His daughter.
Who were both lost to him.
Guilt crashed over him, sharp and sudden. What was he doing thinking about Eve Reynolds when these two faces were the only ones that mattered?
“It’s been a long time,” Milly’s voice said from the doorway.
David turned, startled. He hadn’t heard her come in.
“You should wear a freakin’ bell,” David muttered.
“I knocked, but there was no answer,” Milly said, stepping into the room. “I came to see if you’d fallen asleep.”
David gave her a tight smile and glanced at the picture again.
“Time seems to move slowly when you lose people you love. You think the more time that’s passed, the easier it gets.
..” He ran his finger over the frame. “It doesn’t.
You learn to live with it and ignore it, but it slowly eats away at your soul each day. ”
“I know what you mean,” Milly said, walking into the room and giving his arm a comforting squeeze. “That’s how I feel about losing the only family I had, not too long after you lost yours.”
Their eyes met in common pain.
Milly picked the photo up and turned to him. “David, you shouldn’t have this...”
“I know,” David nodded and took it from her. “I’ll put it away.”
“Like you tell me all the time,” Milly pointed out. “Out of sight, out of mind.”
David nodded, took the photo, and opened his dresser drawer. He set it face down inside, beneath a stack of t-shirts where he wouldn’t see it every day.
“There,” he said, closing the drawer. “Now let’s go eat. I’m starving.”
They walked into the dining room together. Dan was already setting the table, plates, and bowls arranged with military precision. Chaos wandered after him, shadowing his every step, sniffing the air as the mouthwatering aroma of stew filled it.
The three of them sat down to eat, passing the stew and bread around, falling into the comfortable rhythm they’d developed over a long friendship.
David watched his two friends as they ate. Dan reached over to refill Milly’s water glass without being asked. Milly stole a piece of bread from Dan’s plate with a grin. The way they moved around each other like they’d been doing it forever.
His heart lurched as an image of Eve drifted into his mind.
He shook it off.
Yes, he wanted what they had, he realized. Wanted it with a fierceness that surprised him.
Only, he had some baggage he needed to sort out first.
David set his fork down, the stew suddenly heavy in his stomach. Across the table, Dan and Milly were arguing good-naturedly about whether the garlic bread needed more butter, the kind of comfortable bickering that only came from years of knowing someone completely.
Chaos settled at David’s feet with a contented sigh, the dog’s warmth against his leg grounding.
This was his life now. Quiet. Controlled. Safe. A place where he had been slowly sorting out his life.
But the feel of Eve’s hand in his, the way her eyes had met his with surprise and something else he hadn’t dared name, the sound of Lila’s laughter as she’d talked about cryptography with the same passion his daughter once had...
It had cracked something open inside him that he’d worked very hard to seal shut.
“You okay?” Dan asked, his voice cutting through David’s thoughts.
David looked up to find both of them watching him with the kind of careful attention that came from people who understood what it meant to carry ghosts.
“Yeah,” David said, picking his fork back up. “Just tired.”
Milly’s eyes narrowed knowingly, but she didn’t say anything.
David took another bite of stew and let the conversation flow around him. But in his mind, he was already thinking about Anastasia Island. About the job Dan had mentioned. About the Christmas Inn.
About whether running into Eve Reynolds again would be the worst idea he’d ever had, or the best chance he’d had in twenty-eight years to remember what it felt like to be alive.