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She takes a few deep breaths. “Okay. I’m going to try it,” she finally says. “You’ll stay right here? You won’t move? You promise?”

“Promise.”

She takes two steps and turns back to me. “Is anyone in there?”

“Nobody. I live alone.”

I watch from the garage window as she walks toward my house with the dog and fox following her, opens my front door, stands on the threshold for a few minutes, looks back toward the garage, and disappears inside.

She’s braver than I am, confronting her fears. Unlike me, hiding from the world like a pussy.

A few seconds later my phone rings, and I pull it out of my pocket to see Holly’s number on the screen.

“You okay?”

“Yes,” she says. “Your house is so cute and cozy. But… where is the rest of it?”

I laugh into the phone. “What?”

“The other rooms? How do I get to them?”

“There aren’t any more rooms. Just the bedroom loft upstairs. Use the stairs to go up there and look around. It’s one room with a bed, some drawers under the bed, and a small window. Nothing else.”

“I don’t think I want to go up there.”

“Then you don’t have to.”

“Where is the basement?”

“Don’t have one.”

There’s a long silence as she contemplates whether this could be true.

“You’re sure?” she asks suspiciously. “There’s no rooms under the house?”

“No lie. Cross my heart.”

Another long silence, except for the sound of her breathing.

“I think I’m okay. You can come in now.”

“You sure? You can have more time.”

“No. I’m okay.”

I end the call with a grin on my face that comes partly from being proud of her, and partly from finally having her in my house and being able to smell her perfume in my personal space.

When I go inside, I find her sitting in the small leather chair right by the door with Poppy on her lap.

“I’m sorry, Ty,” she says, looking down at the dog.

“For?”

Her shoulder lifts in a slight shrug. “Being difficult.”

I take off my leather jacket and hang it on a metal skull hook by the door. “You’re not. I’m trying to help you, that’s all.” I hold my hand out to her. “Take your jacket off. I’ll hang it up with mine.”

“Are you stray-catting me?” she asks, pulling off her jacket. “Is that why you asked me to come inside?” She chooses to shove her jacket behind her on the chair rather than give it to me, and I know that’s because she feels safer having it with her, in case she has to run. I’d guess she probably lifted one of my kitchen knives, too, and has it hidden on her someplace.