Page 38 of Known By You
Right as I held up my fist to knock, he pulled the door wide.
His hazel eyes squinted out at me, the brightness of the snow no doubt nearly blinding him. He’d pulled his longish hair back so it looked neat rather than like a clue to a puzzle, so this and the clarity in his gaze eased the frantic gallop of my heart.
“Hi, friend.”
He stood there for another second before stepping back and making space for me to enter.
“Thank you so much. And yes, I’m doing well, thank you so much for asking!”
My fake enthusiasm for his nonexistent question had him shaking his head.
He led the way into the kitchen and his Alaskan Malamute, Bear, raised his head, then slumped back down on his bed.
“I come visit you and I get no love from you or your dog.Noted,” I said, but approached Stone’s beast of a dog anyway. I took a knee and held out my hand. He nuzzled it instantly and gave it a soft lick, blue eyes looking at me with such feeling, it always made me a little sad.
Not because Bear was sad. Bear had a dog dad who’d be more than willing todiefor him, he’dlivedfor him. In their story, that was the most loving thing possible, and it was beautiful.
Bear’s comfortable energy and those blue eyes drilled me right in my chest, though. More and more lately, I’d felt a longing for my own pet. I could’ve gotten one by now, and probably should’ve, but I’d always felt like I’d know the right one at the right time. Like love stories—I’d just know.
This might have also extended to the way I thought about not just a pet, but a person, too. I wanted a person. As more of my closest friends paired off with loving, wonderful partners, happiness and hope filled me up, up, up. But there was the small voice I couldn’t avoid hearing that asked when it would be my turn, and the harsher answer insisting it never would be.
“I don’t need checking on anymore.”
Stone stood watching me pet Bear’s soft head, his arms crossed and feet spread wide.
“I’m notcheckingon you. I’m just…”
“Checking on me.”
I huffed. “Well, yeah. But I want you to check on me, too, and so I showed up so you can do that. Cookie’s working and Beast’s busy and I just wanted to see a friend.”
Not justafriend, but someone who knew me. Everyone at Saint was a friend and now Liz was a new friend, but this restlessness in me needed a touchpoint grounded in more than just the here and now. I needed the history of friendship, the honesty of shared service, the vulnerability of shared pain.
Stone moved away while I hugged Bear—the dog was nearly ninety pounds of black and white fluff Stone kept shampooed and brushed and pampered. He required hugging.
“Let me get us a snack and some tea.”
I smiled into Bear’s thick winter coat which Stone really must’ve just washed because it smelled fresh and clean in a way a dog almost shouldn’t.
“He’s such a good host, isn’t he?” I asked Bear.
“Just making sure you’re fed. You look skinny.” His words came out in a scowly grumble as he rustled around in the kitchen, which made me ridiculous levels of happy.
I shouldn’t have been so pleased by his concern, but I remembered times when he could hardly manage to eat, let alone worry about anyone else. His fussing over me was evidence of his triumph.
“I’ll have you know I’m not skinny. I’m just not a giant like you and Beast. Some of us are normal human sized.” At just over six feet tall, I was, by many metrics, one of the shortest male members of Saint Security. That said, Beast stood a bit over six-foot-four, and I was fairly certain Stoneclocked in around six-three, so they were the big boys of the crew.
I stood and slipped down the hallway to the bathroom. After washing my hands, I returned to the living room to see Stone setting a little tray with teacups on saucers and two dessert-looking things on a plate in the middle.
“Shortbread cookies and mini lemon bundt cakes.”
My mouth dropped open. I made no effort to hide the amazed and delighted grin on my face.
“This looks amazing and also I have a feeling you baked those both from scratch and I think it’s finally time you tell me what’s going on with the baking.”
He’d started doing it a few years ago here and there, but lately he’d leaned into it. He’d showed up with a platter full of some cookie or biscotti or homemade cracker during our Monday all-hands, and it’d taken us all a while to realizehe’dmade them.
“You came here for a reason, so let’s start with?—”
