“Your room is good,” Tyler interrupted, glancing away before meeting my eyes again.
In my room, we sat on the floor, letting the kittens tumble out, tiny paws skittering across the carpet, their curious eyes wide as they explored every corner. Tyler was transformed, his eyes lighting up in a rare, unguarded way, a smile spreading across his face as Rascal—my favorite of the three—climbed onto his lap, curled into a small ball, and promptly fell asleep.
“He likes you,” I observed, warmth blooming in my chest at seeing Tyler so relaxed.
“Yeah,” he murmured, his fingertips trailing over Rascal’s fur, careful not to disturb his sleep. “I like him, too.”
The afternoon sun filtered through the blinds, casting gentle light patterns across Tyler’s features. His shoulders relaxed, and for a moment, the shadows that usually lingered in his expression seemed to fade.
“Animals are good for that, aren’t they?” I ventured, giving him room to speak.
“Good for what?”
“Healing. Quiet company. Trust. They don’t expect anything; they just… are.”
“Yeah. I get that.”
We fell into a comfortable silence, the only sounds coming from occasional sleepy kitten sighs and rustling cardboard. My heart rate picked up when Tyler’s fingers drifted toward mine. Our hands brushed, warmth radiating from the gentle contact, and then, I threaded my fingers through his, hearing him release a quiet, relieved sigh. I squeezed his hand in a promise that I wasn’t going anywhere.
“Could we have our outside date tomorrow?” Tyler whispered, squeezing my fingers lightly.
“Absolutely,” I reassured him, my heart picking up its pace. “I’m off shift from two until five.”
“I have counseling until three.”
“Then three it is.”
The next afternoon,my heart wouldn’t settle. I’d dressed up as much as I could manage—dark slacks instead of jeans, a nondescript sweatshirt without the Guardian Hall logo, and I’d touched up the pink in my hair when I’d first wokenup, wanting Tyler to see this mattered to me. Waiting for him by the front door, I shifted from foot to foot, anxious, palms damp.
When Tyler emerged from his session, my breath caught.
“Wow,” I said.
He’d changed into clean jeans and a soft gray sweater, and his coat was folded over his arm.
“Wow, back,” he said, and I grinned as we headed for the front door.
“I was thinking,” he continued, fingers fumbling as he zipped his coat and pulled a beanie down over his hair, “maybe it’s time for a haircut. I don’t know, it’s a mess.” He caught the zip against one of his scars as he pulled up his collar, wincing as his confidence faltered. This was the first time he’d stepped beyond the safety of Guardian Hall since he arrived, and I could see his anxiety—the slight tremble of his hands, the way his eyes darted toward the world beyond the doorway, and the subtle tension holding his shoulders stiff. I placed a reassuring hand on his back, silently reminding him he wasn’t alone.
“I love your hair,” I said, feeling my neck flush.
“Thank you,” he replied as I opened the door to the cold December wind.
“What if it all goes to shit, and I fuck it up?”
I laced my gloved hand with his and shut the door behind him, allowing him to stop me if he wanted to.
“Simple,” I murmured. “We’ll try again.”
We sauntered toward the coffee shop, the chilly air brisk on our faces, Tyler gripping my hand. I kept sneaking concerned glances at him, noting how his gaze darted around, anxiously taking in every passing stranger.
“Almost there,” I reassured him, squeezing his hand. “It’s just at the end of this block.”
He nodded, ducking his head, clearly lost in thoughts of everything that might go wrong. I felt a pang of guilt, wondering if I’d pushed him too far, too soon. Maybe suggesting coffee back at Guardian Hall would have been safer.
But Tyler straightened his shoulders and offered me a shaky smile. “I’m okay,” he murmured, almost more to himself than to me.
Tyler hesitated at the coffee shop’s threshold, his grip on my hand tightening further. I moved a little closer, supporting him as we walked inside. The interior was cozy and inviting—soft, low, indie music playing in the background—and we chose a secluded booth at the back.
