Page 32 of Into The Light
"It's Saturday," I say. "What are you doing today?"
He shrugs. "Dunno. Downtime ain't my friend. Was thinking I'd work at the rescue."
"Downtime isn't your friend—what does that mean?" I ask.
"I can't afford to get in trouble. I don't know anyone around here except you and Riley and the guys I work with. I volunteer at the rescue to keep myself busy and out of trouble. And because I like animals more than people.”
"Would you…want to spend the day with me?" I ask, my voice a hesitant whisper.
He stares at me, blinking slowly, brows knitted. “You wanna spend a whole day…withme?"
I nod. "Yeah." I reach up and brush his coppery locks away from his eyes and mouth.
His eyes flare at the contact—surprised? "What do you want to do?"
I shrug. "I dunno. Whatever. Get breakfast, to start with. We could take Panzer to the dog park and let him play. There are some nice hiking trails a few miles north of town." I hesitate, and then my mouth runs away from my brain. "My family is getting together for a cookout tonight. You could come."
He goes perfectly still—quite a feat for someone as given to stillness as he is. "Noelle…"
I touch his lips. "I understand if you don't want to. No pressure."
He swallows hard. "I…I don’t fit, Noelle."
I frown. "You don't fit? I don’t know what that means."
"You're…good. Clean. Normal. I…ain't."
My heart breaks a little. "Goodness, Bear. Don’t be ridiculous. My family is…we're just people." I keep going before he can say anything. "Just set that aside for now. Don't worry about it."
"'Kay."
I rub his cheek, the fuzz of his beard along his jaw. "Breakfast first. How about that?"
"I could eat."
I smile. "Me too. C'mon. I know a good spot."
Fifteen minutes later, we're parking in the back of the lot at The Good Egg, my favorite breakfast and lunch cafe. It's on the north end of Main Street on the corner of Compass, with outdoor, dog-friendly seating facing the rippling waters of the lake.
Carrying a leash, Bear paces beside me, Panzer at perfect heel, head on a swivel, nose going a mile a minute. We stop at the hostess station and wait.
A teenage girl with curly, mouse-brown hair approaches, nose buried in a tablet, a stack of menus under one arm. "Hello, welcome to The Good Egg-holy-shit-you’re-huge.” Her wide, shocked brown eyes go to Panzer. “All d-d-dogs must be on a l-l-leash.” She squeezes her eyes shut and takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry. Let me try again. Welcome to The Good Egg. Table for two outside?"
"Yes, please," I say.
Her eyes flick to Panzer. "All dogs must be on a leash, please."
Bear hooks the leash to Panzer's collar, but then drapes the leash across the dog's back; his gaze dares the poor, trembling girl to say anything else.
"This way, please." She leads us to a table along the fence near the far side of the outdoor area. "Your server will be right with you."
Bear waits until I take a seat and then sits across from me; Panzer, without needing instruction, curls up into as small of a ball as he can manage behind Bear's chair, out of the way. Within seconds, the big beast is snoring.
"He stayed in that doorway all night?" I ask.
Bear nods. "Yup. Tell him to stay, he stays. No matter what."
"He's such a good dog," I say. "I'm so glad you saved him."
