Page 32 of I’ll Find You

Ihold the postcard between my fingers, the edges worn soft from handling it. Greetings from the Grand Canyon. My aunt’s handwriting curls across the back in that familiar decorative script. She says they’re extending their trip, and they’ll catch up with me after the holidays. I exhale slowly. I can’t fault her for it.

She gave me years of her life to help me rebuild mine. She was never meant to be my mother, never planned to take me in after her only sister, my mom, died. She had no partner to lean on. No one to share the burden. It was just us. And not once did she ever make me feel like an obligation. Not when she worked double shifts. Not when she stretched the life insurance money, setting aside most of it to cover my schooling, to cover me, to cover my future. And definitely not when she showed up for every birthday, every practice, every moment that mattered. She was always there. So no. I don’t begrudge her this. If anything, she deserves more than a few months of freedom.

“Were you going to tell me you’d be alone for the holidays?” Alex's voice pulls me from my thoughts.

Still…the word alone hits harder than I expect. I bite the inside of my lip, giving myself a second before I say anything. The car is silent except for the tires rolling over the pavement beneath us, but something between us feels off now—strained. Have I said the wrong thing? Alex glances at me, quick but deliberate, then looks back at the road.

I shrug, aiming for casualness. “Probably not.”

He exhales slowly, restrained, running his hand over the five o’clock shadow that is already starting to show. I know he has more to say, but chooses not to. I turn toward him, watching the tension in his jaw.

“Why, though?” I ask.

He looks at me, fully this time, like I’ve said something that doesn’t make sense. Like I’m the one being unreasonable. His expression looks pained.

“Look,” I start, my voice softer now, uncertain. “I had no idea that whatever this is between us would be…” I hesitate, searching for the right word, and not finding one that doesn’t feel borderline dangerous to admit. “...this.” I gesture faintly between us. “So soon.”

He nods slowly, understanding. The rest of the drive passes by as we pull into the shelter parking lot. Watson spots us the second we walk in. Our beagle—ours, because somehow that has happened—lets out an excited howl, tail wagging hard enough to shake his whole body. He doesn’t react that way with anyone else. Just us.

We slip into the routine of figuring out who’s responsible for what. I start on the cages, checking latches and refilling water bowls while Alex moves down the row beside me, quieter but just as focused. The kennels run along both sides of the room, with metal doors and concrete floors. The faint smell of disinfectant and wet fur grounds me. It's familiar, reminding me why I've always loved being here.

Now and then, I feel him glance my way, not enough to interrupt me, but just enough that I notice. We work for a while, side by side, doing what needs to be done. When I reach Watson’s kennel, I crouch and unclip the latch. He’s out the second the door opens. Watson nudges his way between us. He’s had enough of being ignored, letting out a low whine until I laugh. “Okay, okay,” I murmur, scratching behind his ears.

He leans into me, tail wagging hard, then moves toward Alex, pressing against his leg just as insistently.

“Traitor,” I say lightly, glancing up.

Alex lets out a resigned breath that almost sounds like a sigh, the tension loosening from his chest. His hand brushes briefly against my shoulder as Watson pushes closer between us. The touch is quick, barely there, but I still notice. I’ve always felt it with Alex—his closeness, his look, and his touch that I crave more than I want to admit.

My phone buzzes. I pull it out, wondering who it could be. Chelsea. I hesitate for a second before opening the message.

I’m sorry about earlier.

I shouldn’t have reacted like that at the library.

I hope you can forgive me.

My fingers tighten slightly around the phone, which doesn’t go unnoticed.

Beside me, Alex turns his attention to me. “Everything okay?” he asks.

I nod, even though I haven’t answered yet. “Yeah, it’s just Chelsea.”

There’s a brief pause. “What does she want?” he asks, his voice remaining even-toned.

“Just…apologizing.” Another pause, longer this time, before he asks.

“Are you going to answer her?”

I glance up at him. There’s nothing obvious in his expression. Nothing I can point to. But it feels like the answer I give him matters.

“I don’t know,” I admit. “She was pretty brutal in the library when she said all those awful things, but…” I trail off, thinking about all the fun times we had over the years, until this year changed, and everything turned to shit.

His gaze holds mine for a second longer than it should.

“Take your time thinking about it,” he says. “After what she said to you, she can at least offer you that.”

“Maybe,” I say, nodding slowly, even though it doesn't feel nearly that simple.