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I smile down at her. “Me too.”
She looks cute in a gray winter jacket and cap. She’s wearing sturdy boots, and she’s steady over the yard. Though Christmas isn’t that far off, we don’t have much snow, and my snowbank fantasy turns into having her against a tree, but we’re wearing too many clothes to do anything. Besides, Sierra and I stayed for a bit after I calmed Zarah down at the gallery, and I watched how her date treated her. Protective and kind. Just what she needs.
“Did you enjoy the rest of your evening?” I ask.
“When?”
“Last night at the gallery.”
She blushes, or it could have been the chilly air. “The photo will be delivered this week. Did you buy anything?”
“No.” I couldn’t afford anything at the showing even if I had found something I wanted. “You and...” I trail off. I don’t know her date’s name.
“Tate.”
I laugh. “Tate? What kind of a name is that?”
She looks at me and squints. “What do you mean?”
I’m being stupid for judging someone for their name, especially since I saw evidence for myself he seemed like a decent guy. I’m not usually so vindictive. As you get to know me, you’ll see jealousy can make me a little mean. It doesn’t happen often.
“Not very manly is all,” I mumble.
She shrugs. “He was nice, but when he looked at me, I didn’t get the squishy feeling. Like when I’m with you.”
I put a hand to her shoulder and we stop. Up ahead, the dogs are scrabbling through the trees, and the rustling echoes to us, the twigs snapping. “You get a squishy feeling when you’re with me? Is that bad? I wouldneverhurt you.”
“You wouldn’t mean to,” she says, correcting me.
I have nothing to say to that because she’s right. I’d never intentionally hurt her, but that’s not how relationships work.
“Right.”
We pick our way through an overgrown trail, and all I can hear are the dogs barking at the squirrels, the squirrels running off, and birds. Tons of birds too high up in the trees to care about the dogs below.
It’s eerie, and I can’t say I like it.
Maybe I’m more city than I thought.
The air smells clean, like winter, cold, if that makes sense. Woodsy. Earthy. Like how I drink my coffee. Smoky. It’s a lot different than car exhaust or the stink of the Renegade on a hot summer’s day, I can tell you that.
The trees have completely swallowed us, and I’ll have to trust Zarah knows her way back.
“Do you spend a lot of time out here?” I ask, helping her step over a large log blocking the path.
She looks at me, smiling her thanks. She’s gorgeous, her brown skin popping against the snow, her lips painted a berry pink. Mittens protect her tiny hands from the cold, and she looks like a little girl wearing her knit cap. The expression in her eyes says the same. Innocence, but it’s not. She’s seen too much, been treated without kindness for too long, and it’s then I realize it’s not innocence but maybe trust. We’re alone in the middle of the woods, and she’s not scared of me.
I want to wrap my arms around her and keep her safe forever.
“I like to be alone. It’s exhausting trying to explain what I’m thinking, puzzling out my emotions for the right words to describe what I need. The drugs make me feel like I’m swimming. My memories are liquid.” She moves her hand in an up and down motion mimicking a fish in the water.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. The people in my life are patient. Stella talks to me like I’m normal, and Ingrid works with me. Lucille lets me help her cook. Everyone is doing what they can, and that tires me out, too.”
“I understand. Sometimes after a tough case, I veg out on the couch and watch movies for a couple of days.”
“Zane told me you’re a private investigator, and he gave me your number. I hope you don’t mind I texted you.”