“He’s really not scary. He’s just had a hard life. People kept giving up on him.”
Something shifts in Levi’s expression. The humor drains out, replaced by something quieter. Something that recognizes itself in what I just said.
“Yeah,” he says. “I know how that feels.”
The words hang in the air between us. And I’m standing behind my counter with my hands full ofribbon scraps, thinking about how Levi and Ruffy are more alike than either of them would appreciate—guarded, particular, waiting for someone who won’t leave.
“How’s the writing?” I ask, because I don’t know what else to say.
“Slow. But...better.” He picks up the flowers, cradling them carefully. “I wrote something yesterday. First time in months.”
“That’s great, Levi.”
“It’s probably garbage.”
“Most first drafts are. Doesn’t mean it’s not worth something.”
He looks at me then—really looks at me—and for a moment, I’m seventeen again, standing on the pier in the moonlight, feeling like maybe this boy could see all the way through me. Like he could read every thought I’ve ever had and still choose to stay.
Except he’s not a boy anymore. And I’m the one who didn’t stay.
“Thanks,” he says. “For the flowers. And the...conversation.”
“Anytime.”
He heads for the door, then pauses. Looks back.
“For what it’s worth,” Levi says, “I think Ruffy’s lucky. To be chosen by someone who understands that trust takes time.”
Then he’s gone, the bell chiming behind him.
I stare at the door for longer than I should. The shop settles back into its quiet rhythms—the cooler humming, a car passing outside, Ruffy’s nails clicking on the floor as he returns to his post.
To be chosen by someone who understands that trust takes time.
He wasn’t talking about the dog.
Ruffy nudges my hand with his nose, demanding attention.
“I know,” I tell him, scratching behind his ears. “I know. It’s complicated.”
He huffs.
“Don’t give me that. You just met him. You don’t get to have opinions yet.”
Another huff, more pointed this time.
“Fine. You can have opinions. But I’m not required to listen to them.”
Ruffy sighs heavily, as if the burden of watching out for me is already exhausting.
“Welcome to your new life,” I tell him. “It’s a mess. But it’s ours.”
He settles back into his spot behind the counter, chin on paws, eyes on the door.
Waiting. Watching.
Just in case that man with the flowers decides to come back.
