Page 24 of Into The Light
I look up at him. The self-doubt in his voice and the implication that I shouldn’t be with him breaks my heart for him. "Why not?"
He doesn't answer for a long time. We’ve long since come full circle back to his building, now standing near my car again. "Lotta guys out there for you, Noelle. Guys who didn't do a dime in the pen for manslaughter."
I shrug. "I suppose. I likeyou, though." I smile up at him, in the darkness.
"Weird."
I laugh at that. "It's not weird. Geez."
“Is to me."
I sigh and rub his thick, firm forearm with my other hand. "Well, fine. But it's not weird to me."
"I don't understand you, Noelle Harper."
I lift up and kiss the side of his cheek, just above the line of his beard. "Well, Bear Olafsson, we have time for you to learn. I’m not all that complicated, though, I promise."
He doesn’t move for a long time, as if shocked and paralyzed by my kiss.
I'm not sure what possessed me, either, and I know this whole thing is probably crazy. My family won't get it at all. But I find myself not caring.
I've lived most of my life doing things for other people, my family in particular.
This? Getting to know Bear? It's for me.
Five
BEAR
Riley gives two short blasts on his horn, alerting me that he’s there. I drain the last of my coffee, pouring more into the scratched, dented, and battered gray-green Stanley thermos I'd found at the thrift store yesterday, along with the restaurant-grade Bunn coffeemaker. Screwing the top on, I carry it to the door.
I glance back at Panzer, who is lying on the couch, watching me with his big, deep, soulful brown eyes. "Panzer, Fuss."
He stretches his forepaws on the carpet, trots forward a couple of steps, lets his hind legs down, pauses to stretch forward with one hind leg and then the other kicked out and shuddering, and then he trots to my right heel, following me out and down the steps. It’s a gray day, heavy, soggy, leaden skies promising rain later.
As I approach his truck, Riley lowers his window, frowning at me. "Bear, buddy, what in the actual motherfuck isthat?”
"Sitz," I command, and Panzer plops his big ass on the ground as I open the rear door and reorganize the back bench to make room. I pat the bench. "Komm rein."K-oh-m r-EYE-n—come in.
Panzer springs up onto the bench with a lithe athleticism belied by his monstrous size.
He's so big, he sits his butt and hind legs on the seat with his forelegs on the footwell, resting his chin on the console between the front seats. Riley twists in his seat, eyeing the dog warily.
I round the hood and get in. "That's Panzer."
"Like the German tanks from World War Two?"
I nod. "Means tank in German."
"I have questions." He puts the truck into reverse but doesn't back out.
"Okay."
"I repeat—what the actual motherfuckisthat thing?"
"A dog. Cane Corso. Owner died and he got turned in by animal control. They were gonna kill him."
"And you adopted him?" Riley asks, dark brows lifting.
