He stepped across the room, and I followed again, drawn in without thinking. The way he saidwemade me ache in a way I didn’t expect. There was a security there, even in the grief.
“Mags still lives up there,” he added.
I snorted. “Seriously? I thought her fiancé was loaded.”
Charlie glanced over his shoulder, the corner of his mouth twitching like he was trying not to smile. “You’re awfully chatty today. Must be feeling better.”
I wanted to make it a joke, toss the moment aside. But all I could think about was his touch—how the room had gone still, how it hadn’t felt fleeting at all. “Yeah,” I admitted. “I guess I am.”
He leaned onto his elbows over the worktable, fixing me with a playful squint. “Okay, then riddle me this, Nancy Drew. Why the hell is that dog named after a First Lady?”
I smirked, gesturing vaguely toward Nancy Reagan, curled into a tight ball and snoring dramatically on the loveseat. “She doesn’t give off major Nancy Reagan energy to you?”
“Not even a little,” Charlie said, after pretending to study her like a museum piece.
I popped open an iced tea from the mini fridge, that familiar tightness in my chest easing enough to let the moment in. “She was my Nonie’s dog. My grandmother.”
Charlie looked up, quiet now.
“When Nonie got really sick, she had a fall and had to be moved into a nursing home. Doyle told me our momma was planning to send Nancy to the pound.” I twisted the cap tighter on my tea and looked down at the table, the sharp memory of that day still catching at my throat. “Said she was too old, too untrained. That she didn’t comply.”
Charlie winced.
“The shelter said dogs like her don’t get adopted out at that age.” I gave a small shrug, like the whole thing still didn’t piss me off. “I was back in New York, trying to get some money together before my next trip to Scotland, but instead, I hitchhiked home and picked her up.”
His head snapped toward me. “Wait. Youhitchhiked? For a poodle?”
I laughed, and maybe it was a little unhinged, but I couldn’t help it. “Yeah. It sounds wild, I know. But... I know what it’s like to be left behind for reasons you don’t understand. What it feels like when someone decides you’re too much trouble to keep around. I couldn’t let that happen to her.”
Charlie didn’t say anything for a second, the air between us softening into the kind of quiet that said he got it. That he wasn’t going to tell me it wasn’t that bad or that I should move on.
I looked over at Nancy, the stubborn, crusty little thing. “She’s kind of the worst. Smells like socks and corn chips. But I’d do it all over again.”
Charlie studied me for a moment. “I knew I was right about you, Tally Aden.”
I tilted my head, the corner of my mouth tugging up. “And how’s that?”
His voice was low. “You’re the one doing the rescuing. Not the one waiting to be saved.”
I rolled my eyes, mostly to keep from crying.
I settled back into my spot on the couch while Charlie went back to work, his hands moving with focused precision. Every so often, he paused to glance over at me. “So what happened next?” he asked, trimming a photo down to fit an empty space.
“What do you mean?”
He shrugged. “You hitchhiked, picked up the dog, brought her back to New York—then what? What’d you do with her when you traveled?”
As if she knew we were talking about her, Nancy started chasing her tail, barking at it like she had just discovered it was attached to her body.
“Well,” I said, nodding toward the mayhem, “She clearly needs constant supervision, so I stayed in New York.”
“So you gave up all your dreams for a poodle?”
It did sound ridiculous. But that was one thing Charlie and I had in common.
“I’d do anything for the people and creatures I love, even if it means rearranging everything. Not everyone gets that kind of love. I didn’t, not really. But I do now. Especially now.”
“I get it,” he said, his eyes locked on mine.
