“Oh shit,” I cursed, unable to come up with anything else. “Micah.” His name came out sounding like an apology, and I immediately wanted to take it back.
A decade worth of moments filled my brain. Micah walking away from me when I told him to leave me the fuck alone. Graduating college. My first day teaching. Buying my own home.
All of those moments paled in comparison to those that must have filled Micah’s years.
Thankfully, he cut the thick silence when he asked “Got another one of those for me?” as he tipped his head down to the unopened beer in my hand.
“Uh, yeah. Of course,” I stumbled over my words as my feet began to move. “Come on inside.”
The dog tagged alongside him as he followed me into the kitchen.
I had hoped to keep the conversation light and casual.
How have you been?
Where did you end up going to college?
Why did you leave me behind?
Okay, maybe that last one was a little heavy.
But knowing he’d lost his arm massively complicated the task, as did the sadness in his eyes.
As we made our way to the refrigerator, I shook those thoughts out of my head and struggled to find something to say. My hands worked as my brain couldn’t. After opening his beer, I slid it across the granite countertop to his waiting hand.
The real one.Fuck.
Silently, I cursed myself for even making the acknowledgment.
His voice competed with the sound of me cracking open my own beer. “Nice place,” he announced as his eyes roamed around the kitchen.
“Thanks” was all I could muster up. Before sliding off the bar stool, he let go a sad-sounding chuckle.
He walked over to his bags, running his hand through his hair and tucking it behind his ear. It didn’t stay there, flopping in front of his face. “I had to get him some food,” he explained, answering the question I hadn’t asked.
And honestly, if I had asked him anything, it wouldn’t have had anything to do with where he went just now.
It would have had everything to do with where he’d been for the last ten years.
“Over here okay?” His question cut through my distraction. Squatting in the corner, he set up the dog bowls so they were out of the way. A small smile pulled at my lips. Having toyed with the idea of getting a dog for myself, I’d often thought of using that exact place for food and water, but I always dismissed the idea of adopting a dog since I was never home. It didn’t seem fair.
But instead of getting into that—because how fucking stupid would that soundSure. Over there is fine. I always wanted a dog. But I’m just so busy with my full life to even think about taking care of another living thing—instead of making a fool of myself, I simply said, “Of course” as I brought my beer up to my mouth, nodding like a fool. Deciding I needed to get my head on straight, I went with what I figured was a normal line of conversation, hoping to get back on some kind of even keel.
Because from the second I laid my eyes on Micah, my entire world had been thrown off kilter. And paying mind to that feeling was far too much to deal with right now.
Or ever.
“How long have you had him um . . . what’s his name again?” I asked, proud of myself for the regularity of my voice and embarrassed that I’d already forgotten the dog’s name.
Running his hand through his hair once more, he eyed the ceiling as if the answer was plastered there. “Sarge,” he answered as he dropped some kibble into the bowl. “A few weeks. Come,” he commanded, and Sarge responded instantly.
Hearing the wordcomefall from his hard mouth did more to me than it should’ve. But now was definitely not the time to think about that.
Micah’s eyes softened as he ran his hand through Sarge’s fur and when the dog looked up at Micah, some silent conversation took place. Suddenly, I felt like an outsider in my own home. The clarity of their unbreakable bond made me feel oddly jealous.
Rather than paying mind to that, I said lamely, “He listens so well for only having him such a short time.”
Standing from Sarge, who was snout deep in his food, Micah let out a strangled sigh, the muscles and cords of his neck actually straining. When he said, “It was part of his training,” it sounded more like an admission of guilt than anything else.
