8. Lyric
EIGHT
LYRIC
I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do with myself.
The solace of my apartment was strangely absent. It had been a busy day at Trick or Treat. Admin was shared with Nova, but Valentine’s Day shopping was already in full swing. Add in the viral videos that had increased foot traffic, and they had left all of us scrambling to cover.
I’d even called in reinforcements.
The fact that I’d almost called Jensen proved I’d hit a desperation point.
He’d been wasted in the store, I knew that. Retail wasn’t made for someone like him. I knew he’d just been biding his time until he found something that actually clicked for him.
We paid a competitive wage, but it was still a retail wage.
At least that was what I told myself when I’d made more and more excuses not to add him to the schedule. By the time we’d brought Nova onto the payroll, it had seemed likely Jensen would no longer be available.
Due to my own hesitation.
Guilt had clawed at me for the first few months, but then it just got easier not to see him. Easier to allow myself to become more insulated against that day—hell, that time in my life.
Already, it had been more than a year, and in a fingersnap, it could feel like yesterday.
Just like that evening at The Cove. Just merely getting a glimpse of Jensen had made me tumble into the past. What would it be like if I had to see him every single day?
And I’d ruined a perfectly nice date with Mike London. The teacher at St. Agnes Academy was funny and safe. It had been easy to talk to him, easy to ride the wave of like-minded reading, television, and music.
He’d attempted a few texts, and I’d answered him, but I think he could tell I wasn’t in a good space. Our once easy conversations now were stilted. Finally, he stopped replying, and I didn’t try again.
I glanced down at my phone at the sound of a notification from the dating app. Stomach churning, I logged in and deactivated my account, then I cleared the notifications.
A small whine from Sheba had me turning my head to see her in my backseat. “I’m okay. Just so fucking bored and sick of myself.” She whined again and I twisted in my seat to pet her. “Do you want to go walk around TJ Maxx?”
Her tail thumped.
She probably didn’t know what I was asking, but she was always up for a roadtrip. It was one of the few places that allowed dogs to come in without me having to put on her therapy dog harness paraphernalia.
I pointed my Jeep out of town instead of toward Cove Meadows, my apartment complex. I spun through a few playlists and landed on a Taylor Swift-heavy one that suited my mood. I sang along to “The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived” and Sheba howled along with me.
I was laughing as we hit a drive-thru and shared our favorite treat, Wendy’s nuggets along with a large fry. Next, we hit the trifecta of unnecessary shopping with TJ Maxx, Home Goods, and Michael’s.
A little retail therapy helped put me in a better mood. Crafting wasn’t exactly my thing, but my sister loved yarn. If I picked out yarn, she usually made me something cozy or ridiculous, depending on her whims. Thanks to a very nice coupon, I left with a paper bag full of funky yarn and a happy dog.
There was a side benefit of Sheba getting all the attention at stores, which put both of us in good spirits. She was far too pretty for her own good.
However, I still wasn’t ready to head home to face another evening of my empty room. Normally, it was my favorite way to end the day. A book and my dog, sometimes a few episodes of Golden Girls with my sister with more wine than was wise—all of that usually made me feel happy and content these days.
The problem was that Crescent Cove pretty much shut down after six in the evening, especially on a weeknight.
Sheba gave a happy bark from the backseat as we rolled past the park. It was a warm night, for once. Well, warm relative to January in Central New York temperatures.
After driving around for a few moments, I found a lone parking spot near the mouth of the park.
Ashes & Wine was doing a brisk business. It was mostly a wine tasting room, but they had a handful of events every month.
From the looks of the flushed faces of the women on the patio, especially one woman with a bride sash, it was safe to say it was a bachelorette party. They were all wearing scrubs and firefighter T-shirts, indicating they most likely didn’t have regular schedules. Probably why they were having a bachelorette party on a Thursday night.
I grabbed my scarf, then I opened my door and released Sheba from the back. She leaped out and ran circles around me.
“Okay, okay.” I laughed and wrapped my scarf around my neck, then I tucked a toy and her leash in my pocket. The park was empty, and Sheba wouldn’t leave my side, but other people didn’t know that—namely whoever was on duty tonight from the CCPD.
The laughter from Ashes & Wine faded as we made our way down the path toward the picnic areas. I dragged in a deep lungful of the cold air, and it cleared my head.
Crescent Lake was still, and the sky was lightly overcast. The streetlamps lit our way to the hill. I pulled out Sheba’s favorite ball with a light-up core and threw it toward the top of the hill.
“Free!”
She took off like a shot, rolling around in the snow at the top of the hill before she skidded her way back down to me. Delighted that the snow gave her a boost of speed she pranced in front of me to toss the ball for a repeat performance.
I overshot my throw, and it ended up in the trees.
Sheba didn’t care. She still took off, but she didn’t come back right away.
“Sheba?” I called out.
That was usually all it took for recall. Unless her ball had ended up farther into the trees.
“Hell,” I muttered, heading toward the path.
Suddenly, she showed up at the top of the hill, her ball in her mouth and a delighted wiggle to her butt. She dropped the ball and gave a sharp bark. Then she spun around and nosed the ball back where she’d gone.
Was someone up there? While Sheba was a working dog for the most part, I’d released her for play, and she got easily distracted.
She wasn’t the only one.
I was just about to make the slippery climb when her ball sailed over the hill and bounced down my way. She bounded down to me, snow and crystals clinging to her whiskers.
“Is someone up there?”
Not that she would answer me, obviously. All her attention was riveted on the ball.
As I flung it up, a figure came into view. His hand shot out to catch the ball. Sheba didn’t care, since she tore off and was rewarded with the ball arcing into the air once more.
The streetlight was behind the man’s head, throwing him into shadow. I was pretty sure it was a guy by the sheer breadth of his shoulders.
My heart gave one hard kick. Crescent Cove was a friendly place, but I was still alone in the dark.
Sheba barked excitedly as the man crouched down and gave her a vigorous rub down that made her immediately throw herself shamefully on her back for belly rubs. His husky laughter ended with a yelp as Sheba gave him one of her sneak attacks.
She pressed her paws onto his chest, tail wagging.
“Sheba!” I headed up the path. My dog was not the biting kind, but most people wouldn’t welcome an unexpected flattening by forty-five pounds of dog.
“It’s okay.” The husky male laughter finally registered.
Jensen .
My heart jolted hard and the sudden need to retreat was as overwhelming as a rotten scent.
Cripes, get a grip .
He was just a man.
When the hell would this reaction go away?
He sat up, his long arms curled around Sheba. She was absolutely delighted with the snuggles and practically vibrating in his lap. He grinned up at me. “I didn’t know you had a dog.”
I nodded. “After the…” I huffed out a strangled breath. I could do this . “After the fire, I needed someone.”
His dark eyes went solemn as his smile slipped away.
Instantly, Sheba hopped off him and hurried to my side, pressing her head hard against my thigh.
His eyes tracked from the dog to me before he slowly got to his feet.
He was ridiculously fit. The need to retreat lessened as a hum of awareness interrupted the flight response that I couldn’t control.
“Glad she could help,” he said quietly.
Sheba was dying to go back to him. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that, but I gave her a hand signal of release and she pranced back over to him with her butt wiggling.
“Jensen, meet Sheba. She usually has far better manners.”
He crouched down to her again, scratching her ears until she was a mass of bliss.
Lucky dog.
Surprised at that thought, I wished my stupid system would get its shit together. Swinging from the need to run to jealousy of my dog in a few breaths was disconcerting.
“Hello, Sheba.” He glanced up at me. “She’s gorgeous. Preternaturally so.”
I laughed. “It’s the eyes. They see too much.”
Nodding, he rose. “Yeah, I guess.” He drew his thumb along her nose to between her eyes in a soft stroke. “Seems a bit more though.”
She was more. It was rare for others to see it, however. She had a very high level of empathy, and I was seriously lucky to have her.
“She’s too smart for her own good. And she seems taken with you.”
“Animals tend to like me.”
The awkwardness was creeping in again, and I was about to make my excuses. It was easier to back away and be alone.
“What are you guys doing out here this late?”
“I should ask you the same.”
He shrugged. “Restless. Couldn’t settle.”
“Same.”
“Do you want to walk with me, maybe? We don’t have to talk.”
I grinned. “We don’t?”
“No. It’s just nice to be outside sometimes. Plus, I’m sick of the walls of my apartment.”
The fact that I felt the same made me relax.
Sheba pranced around the two of us, bringing us closer together.
I laughed. “She really does like you.”
“What is she doing?”
“Herding us to where she wants us. She does the same when she wants me and my sister to be in the same room.”
Jensen stuffed his fingers into the pockets of his leather jacket. “Guess we should go where she wants then.”
Because it was easier to say yes, I nodded.
We followed the path through the trees, past the benches that were placed everywhere. The path was wide and wound lazily through the park and out along the natural barrier between the park and the lake.
Crescent Lake was practically still and seemed endless from this vantage point.
True to his word, Jensen didn’t try to push for small talk. And his quiet breathing was soothing as the sounds of the water.
Was this tranquility? Quiet moments that added up to peace, however fleeting.
Sheba ran ahead, the random smells intriguing her enough that she was happy to keep her busy. She kept us in sight, but she was more excited about sniffing her way around every tree and bush.
We got to the lookout point that butted against one of the handful of churches in town. I wasn’t an overly faith-based person, but there was a peacefulness about a church that had helped me during the worst of the days after my many grafting procedures.
Jensen leaned on the half wall and looked out on the water.
“Something on your mind?”
He didn’t answer for a few beats before he sighed. “I have to face something tomorrow. Something I’m not sure I’m ready for.”
“I know what that’s like.”
He straightened. “Like facing me?”
My breath stalled in my lungs. “Going right for the jugular, huh?”
“I’m sorry, Lyric. Sorry I couldn’t help you that night.”
I frowned. “You did. I promise you did.”
I could see the questions in his dark eyes. The well-lit path left me no place to hide from his far too probing gaze.
But how could I explain my problem when I didn’t even understand it myself?
“I need to get back. Sheba’s dinner is insanely late.”
He nodded. “Yeah. I have an early morning too. I’ll walk you back.”
“You don’t need to.”
“I do.”
“I have Sheba.”
His fingers fisted in his pockets. I could see the outline of them through his leather motorcycle jacket as frustration came off him in a wave. “I’d still feel better if I walked you back.”
“Fine.”
This time, the quiet was heavy.
Sheba bounded back to us and her playful bouncing didn’t have quite the same effect this time. And in her Sheba way, she picked up on the vibes and fell into step beside me.
“She always does that?” he asked quietly.
“What?”
“I don’t know…instinctively knows what you need without words.”
“Yes. All the time.”
“Does she guard you as well?”
“When she needs to.”
“Couldn’t have gotten a Rottweiler or German Shepard?”
I laughed. “I could have. But she picked me at the same time I chose her.”
Explaining how I got her would give him too many clues into my fucked-up psyche. But when I’d interviewed for a trained support dog, there had been a whole lot of steps to get Sheba.
I’d almost given up on it until the day I met her.
And I knew she was mine.
She’d saved me so many times.
We got to the hill where I’d run into Jensen. Sheba took off like a shot and came trotting back with her ball. She’d left it behind in her pure joy at finding a new friend.
“Damn, she is smart,” he muttered.
“You have no idea.” She nosed my leg with her ball. “Enough play.”
She sat down beside me and her tongue lolled out.
I took the slobbery ball and tucked it in my pocket. “I don’t care how cute you are, it’s time to go home.”
He grinned. “How do you resist that face?”
“Practice. Thanks for the walk.” I started to turn away.
“Wait.”
I stayed where I was. “It’s late, Jensen.”
“I know I said I’d do whatever you wanted about the murals, but I haven’t been able to stop thinking about them.”
I nodded. “I know. I haven’t stopped thinking about them, either. Not after I saw your painting for Nolan.”
“I have a portfolio if you want to see more.”
“It’s not that. I know you’re right for the job.”
He pulled one hand out of his pocket and reached for me, curling his fingers around mine. They were warm and rough and made me ache in a way that I wasn’t sure I could face. “Then let me do it.”
“We haven’t done the contracts with our vendors yet. It’s going to take some time.”
“How much time?”
I laughed. This one thing definitely hadn’t changed about him. “Patience, Jensen.”
“I’m not a patient man.”
“I’ll let you know by next week.”
He nodded. “That works.”
He let my hand go and I hated that I missed the warmth. I stuffed my fingers into my jacket. “Good. I’ll be in touch.”
I started up the path, Sheba following dutifully. I could feel his gaze on me and that warmth spread.
I glanced back. “Good luck tomorrow.”
“Thanks.” His face eased into a smile. It was almost like the one I remembered from when we used to work together. The charm was there, but the boyish part had fallen away.
Truthfully, I wasn’t sure that was a good thing.
I supposed I was going to find out.
God help me.