Skylar: Yup! I left out a bowl of water next to it and some kibble too.
I check the time again. Well, I guess I’ll wait here.
Thirty minutes later, Adam arrives, and I fly out the door, then race down the porch steps to tackle-hug him the second he emerges from the car. I didn’t realize how much I needed to see him until right now, and I don’t let go. Even if things didn’t work out with Ford, I’m so glad I met him and had a brief and beautiful love affair—thanks to my brother, who made it possible by letting me live here.
“Whoa. Everything okay?” Adam asks when I break the hug.
I frown, my eyes welling with tears. “I fell for your neighbor. I’m sorry…but I’m also not sorry.”
With a protective gaze, he glances next door, then cups my elbow and ushers me inside, passing a brown paper bag on the front porch. I didn’t notice that earlier, but I’ll grab it when I leave in a bit.
Inside, his green eyes—a similar shade to mine, andbright behind his glasses—hold mine with concern. “Is it the hockey player?”
“Yes,” I say through tears. But once we sit on the couch, Adam reaches for a tissue from the table and offers it to me. I take it as Simon hurls himself into Adam’s lap. Adam pets the shameless boy, who offers his belly to my brother.
I dab at my eyes. “I started seeing him, even though you said it was a bad idea. But I promise I won’t make things awkward as neighbors. I’ll be civilized. You have my word.”
Adam’s expression is soft, his voice gentle as he says, “Don’t worry about it. All I care about is if you’re okay. Are you? And do I need to beat up this jerk?”
The prospect of Adam taking on the burly, sturdy Ford is amusing but unnecessary. “No. He was worried he was distracted by…me,” I say, then I blurt out the whole sad story. But when I’m done, I add, “But it’s fine. I’m moving on. I have my friends, and my dog, and you and Mom and Dad. Everything is fine.”
“Good,” he says, then cocks his head. “But did you ever tell him how you felt?”
I shoot him awhat do you meanlook. “Well, no. He ended it.”
“Right, but when you explained how you broke up, it sounds like he started to say‘take a break’and you finished the sentence. So you didn’t even tell him how you felt.”
I open my mouth to protest, but…he’s not wrong. “I don’t know that it would have made a difference though,” I say.
But then again, would it have mattered?
“You also don’tnotknow,” he says. “Sometimes in science, you have to test things.”
I purse my lips and narrow my brow. “Look at you, turning science around and using it against me.”
“Science just works. What can I say?” he says with a smile.
I say goodbye to him and Simon, then leave, shutting the door behind me, wondering if I should have told Ford how I felt. I bound down the steps, then stop.
Right. The paper bag.
I trot back up and grab it.
Oh.
There’s a drawing on one side. A simple line sketch of a dog. And the words:
For Simon—his favorite.
And yours too.
I miss you so much.
My heart nearly bursts in my chest as I flash back on the moment on his porch when we confessed our love for this type of dog biscuit.
Sometimes when I get peanut butter biscuits, I eat them too. Well, I take a bite,he’d said.
I’d replied with an excitedme too.
