June:
Yeah… I’m definitely team firefighter.
A light knock on the back door interrupts my spiral. I turn, and through the window I see Aiden petting Neptune’s head, his hand resting gently between his ears, and something in my chest tightens in a way I don’t expect.
“Come in,” I call.
He opens the door, and both dogs rush in.
“Skye, manners,” Aiden says softly, and she immediately slows, then sits, looking up at him, waiting for approval.
“Is it okay if she comes in?” he asks, glancing at me as he walks toward the kitchen and sets a six-pack of wheat beers on the counter.
“Absolutely.” I smile.
As if understanding she’s welcome, Skye gets up from her seated position and walks over to Neptune, who’s already sprawled out in his new favorite spot by the window. She lowers herself beside him, rests her head on the floor, and within seconds, they’re calm, settled, comfortable together in a way that makes me feel strangely emotional.
“They really like each other,” I say quietly.
Aiden grabs a beer from the box, opens it, and hands it to me. I take it while he opens one for himself, lifting it in a small, casual cheer before taking a sip. I mirror him.
“Do you mind if I put these in the fridge?”
“Sure. There should be plenty of space.”
He opens the fridge and laughs.
It’s completely empty.
“I need to go to the grocery store,” I admit. “But that’s a tomorrow problem.”
He starts placing the beers inside, then pauses and drops to one knee.
“Oh.” He peers behind the fridge. “You’ve got a bit of a water leak.”
“This is a new fridge,” I tell him. “It was just installed this weekend.”
“It’s probably something simple.” He shrugs. “I’ll check.”
I hesitate, watching him, feeling a strange mix of gratitude and uncertainty. After all, this is my home, but I still feel like a stranger in it.
“There are towels in the closet under the stairs.” He glances at it. “Would you mind grabbing a couple for me?”
I set my beer on the counter and head for the door under the stairs I noticed earlier but hadn’t opened yet. Inside, I find towels and sheets, all of them folded neatly, a few with tags still on. I grab a couple of the older-looking towels and carry them back to the kitchen.
When I return, he’s already pulled the fridge away from the wall and unplugged it, fully focused on fixing the problem. He looks up, and when he sees me, smiles, taking the towels from my hands.
“Looks like the water line to the ice maker wasn’t properly connected. Easy fix.”
“Thank you,” I say softly.
He’s already on the floor drying the water with the towels, and I don’t quite know where to put myself or where to look.
“Is there anything I can do?” I ask, unsure whether I’m helping or hovering.
“Oh, no.” He glances up, still smiling. “I’ve got it. I’m happy to help.”
“Okay.” I nod. “I’ll start getting my bags out of the truck. Let me know if you need me.”
