Page 38 of Shelter for Shay
But then Moose’s face would appear in her mind.
If she was going to give them a fighting chance at anything, she needed to be closer to Virginia. Only, she’d never even been to the state. She had no idea what the area looked like. Felt like. Smelled like. And while none of that really mattered because she’d moved to so many places with little to no knowledge of the surroundings, she had a romantic notion about the countries she visited. About the jobs she took.
And that was another thing. Being a school counselor, while always the end game, she’d never pursued. She hadn’t a cluewhat she needed to do to find that kind of job… in Virginia. She had all the credentials she needed for the state of New York. Her mother made damn sure she kept those up. But every state was different. It would require research. It also meant taking a much bigger leap of faith when it came to Moose. They just weren’t ready.
She wasn’t ready.
They barely knew each other—and yet they knew everything they needed to know.
She dropped her grocery bag on the kitchen counter and made her way back through the house and out the front door to gather the day’s mail. She had half a mind to leave it for tomorrow. It would be more bills that she didn’t have the money to pay. But the lady at the hospital had told her that even if she paid only five dollars when each bill came, that was enough to keep the creditors off her back.
A dark, fancy sports car rolled by the front of the house, slow and deliberate. It had tinted windows, which gave it an ominous feel. She didn’t know much about cars, but that one looked as though it cost more than she could ever dream of getting for her mom’s house. She stood there as it passed… a little too slowly. A vehicle like that didn’t belong in this neighborhood. Perhaps they were lost.
A blinker flashed and the car turned at the next street.
She sighed.
The sun dipped behind the mountains and the cool air chilled her bones. She opened the mailbox and was pleasantly surprised. Only junk mail and one other letter.
A special letter just for her. She held it in her fingertips and smiled as she made her way back in the house, dumping the junk mail in the recycle bin. She eased into her mother’s favorite chair, tucking her feet under her butt.
The envelope’s return address was a base in Virginia. Her name in blocky, careful handwriting and a smear of dirt across the corner like it had been handled by a dozen different hands before reaching her door made her heart flutter.
Shay ran a thumb over the seal, then carefully slid her finger beneath it and unfolded the paper inside. Butterflies filled her stomach. How this man had wormed his way into her heart, she hadn’t a clue, but she was grateful for the small piece of joy that just thinking about him brought.
Hey you,
I didn’t want to leave without saying goodbye again. Not really sure how to explain what’s in my head, but if I could pick anywhere to be right now, it’d be next to you.
I’ll write when I can. Text when I can. But if you don’t hear from me for a bit, it’s not because I forgot. It’s because I’m doing my job. If this deployment goes as planned, you might be getting a pile of letters from me when we’re together. That might actually be super embarrassing for me. Thor writes to his wife every day. Sometimes twice a day. On short deployments, he doesn’t bother sending them. He just brings the letters home, leaves them on the nightstand, and she reads them while he’s passed out from exhaustion. Sometimes she reads them to their daughter. Damn cute if you ask me. I hope you get the chance to meet both Danni and Cassandra soon. Danni is one of the kindest, sweetest people I know. She’s good for Thor. Grounds him. They’ve known each other since they were eight and four. It’s amazing. Some think it’s weird. Me and the team, we just think they fit.
Now I’m chuckling to myself because I half expected the team to razz me harder than they have about you. But they haven’t. They keep telling me I’m softer. Gentler. Less like my chickens. I have no idea what that means. My chickens are awesome.
But you’ve given me something to look forward to again. Don’t know what that means yet, but I think it means something. Be safe. Go to the park. Feed the birds. Try not to overthink everything.
— Moose
She stared at the letter for a long time, letting the edges curl in her fingers. She hadn’t realized how much she needed this small piece of him—something tangible, something that felt like a tether.
He’d only texted once since he left. A short message two days in: "Alive. Busy. Thinking about you."
And nothing since.
She folded the letter and slipped it back into the envelope just as a knock landed on the door. She didn’t even have to ask—only one person knocked with that kind of rhythm.
“Door’s open!” she called, even as she stood to go greet her friend.
Becca stepped inside, cheeks pink from the wind, holding a bottle of red wine like it was the solution to everything. “I come bearing alcohol and zero tiny humans.”
“That’s the best kind of visit.”
They ended up curled on the couch in front of the fireplace, socks pulled high and glasses full. The fire crackled softly, casting warm flickers across the hardwood floors. The TV droned on in the background—something on low volume they weren’t paying attention to.
“Colin ate a crayon this morning,” Becca said. “Green. Entire freaking thing and now we’re waiting for it to come out the other end. Everything always comes out the other end.”
Shay raised an eyebrow. “Aspiring artist or future goat?”
“He cried when I tried to take it away and called me a ‘dream smusher.’”
